#*posts these here while pretending it didn't take me a month to get back to some of these* :))))))))) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bucketsorbueckers · 13 days ago

Text

No Hard Feelings - Chapter 8

Paige X Azzi

Warning: language.

A/N: didn't plan to post this early get this chapter away from me before i edit to the point of disservice. if it doesn't make sense, its not my business. xoxo

Azzi’s POV

A few months ago.

Hard fracture.

That’s the only way Azzi knew how to describe it.

There had been small fissures forming between them for a while. Cracks in the foundation. Somehow, putting a name on what they were made it feel heavier. More difficult to carry.

It had been a steady eleven months, mostly. Private. Careful. A thing she held close to her chest.

Caroline knew. Nika too. Though she never said it out loud. Just offered knowing looks and quiet exits when things got too soft around the edges.

But beyond that, it was just the two of them. Her and Paige.

They said it was better this way. Safer. Cleaner. No headlines. No rumors. No room for people to ruin it before it ever got the chance to breathe.

And in the beginning, that quiet felt like protection. Like something theirs in a world that wanted to take everything.

But the world doesn’t stay quiet for long. Not when Paige was in it.

Because there were nights when Paige would light up an arena and the whole world would look at her like she belonged to them. And Azzi would be in the background, clapping quietly, pretending her heart wasn’t in the front row.

There were moments where she’d catch Paige smiling at someone else and think, I’m not sure she even remembers I’m here.

She didn’t blame her for it. Not really.

Paige wasn’t really hiding her. She offered soft touches. Lingering glances. Quiet, firm reminders that she belonged to Azzi—at least in the ways that counted. But the longer they stayed hidden, the harder it became to believe there was a difference between protecting something and burying it.

And that quiet, gnawing feeling…the one Azzi couldn’t shake, kept whispering the same truth: Paige belonged to the world. And Azzi belonged to no one.

Som she started pulling back. Just a little. Just enough to see if she still had a pulse outside of Paige Bueckers. And maybe, if she was being honest, it wasn’t just about herself. Maybe it was also to see if Paige would notice. If she’d feel the shift. If she’d say something.

Because sometimes, truthfully, Azzi felt less like a person Paige loved and more like a weight strapped to her ankle—quiet, heavy, and always just barely out of step.

Paige did notice. Azzi could see it in the way she reached for her. In the way her eyes searched the room before her body followed. In the way she kept trying to press her hands to the bleeding wound of who they were. Like if she held it hard enough, long enough, maybe it would stop.

But she didn’t say anything. And Azzi didn’t know how to ask for what she needed without sounding like she was asking Paige to be smaller. To shine a little less bright. To come back down to a place Azzi wasn’t sure she belonged anymore.

So the silence grew teeth. Not sudden. Not sharp. Just slow. Choking. The kind you don’t notice until you realize you haven’t taken a full breath in weeks.

Paige was still Paige. All in. Loyal. Constant. But she didn’t ask.

And Azzi didn’t know how to say it. Didn’t know how to explain that being loved by someone like Paige Bueckers meant being seen by everyone but still somehow forgotten by yourself.

The realization struck her on a Thursday night. There was no grand trigger. No dramatic fight. Just the quiet, aching feeling that had made a home of her chest stretching a little too wide like her ribs were forgetting how to hold it in.

She sat with it. Let it settle. Didn’t cry. And then, two nights later, she showed up on Paige’s doorstep.

The conversation wasn’t angry. They didn’t raise their voices. Didn’t say things they’d regret.

Azzi just stood there in Paige’s apartment—small and familiar and somehow already too far gone—and said the thing she hadn’t known how to say until it became the only thing she could.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Paige looked at her like she’d dropped something. Like any second now, Azzi would laugh. Take it back. Say just kidding, I’m tired, ignore me.

But Azzi didn’t. She couldn’t. Because she wanted to leave while there was still something left of her to carry.

Paige didn’t beg. Didn’t cry. Didn’t chase. She just nodded. And that hurt more than if she’d screamed.

Azzi stood there for a beat, her heart clawing against the inside of her ribs like it might rip its way out. She wanted to apologize. To explain. To say I love you, I just don’t know how to survive it. But the words stuck to the back of her throat like they were trying to save themselves.

So instead, she turned. And let the door close behind her. In that moment, it felt like the right thing. But God, it still split her clean through.

Paige’s POV

Azzi stirred, and Paige stayed perfectly still. Eyes closed. Breathing slow. Like if she moved, even a little, the moment might vanish.

Azzi fit against her like something Paige had been missing long before she even knew it. And then—soft, gentle—fingers began to walk their way up her arm. Curious. Familiar. Like they remembered this path even after all that time.

Paige couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.

“I know you’re awake, Bueckers,” Azzi whispered, fingers still tracing lazy lines up her arm.

Paige shook her head, voice low and muffled against the pillow. “Five more minutes.”

“No such luck,” Azzi murmured. “We’ve gotta be downstairs for breakfast in ten.”

Her tone was gentle, but Paige could hear the smile in it too.

“Then five more minutes isn’t an indecent request,” Paige mumbled.

Azzi hummed in mock disapproval, already shifting, starting to slip from her arms with the kind of quiet ease that made it feel like she’d never been there at all. And for some reason, it hit Paige like a wave.

Panic, fast and silent. Like her body remembered every morning she’d woken up without this. Like it didn’t trust that Azzi wouldn’t disappear again if she let go now.

Her hand tightened instinctively around Azzi’s wrist.

“Wait,” she said, too quickly.

Azzi froze. And Paige couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t breathe around the sudden fear clawing at her throat.

“I just… one more minute,” she whispered. “Just stay a minute longer.”

Azzi didn’t answer right away.

Then Paige felt it. The soft press of Azzi’s body folding back into hers. No questions. No teasing. Just quiet understanding. Like Azzi could feel how badly Paige needed her without either of them having to say it out loud.

They stayed like that longer than they probably should’ve. Long enough for the sun to climb a little higher, for the real world to start creeping back in around the edges.

“Paige,” Azzi whispered, voice low against her neck. “We need to go to breakfast. Geno will have both our asses.”

Paige groaned, half into the pillow. “Let him.”

But she knew Azzi was right.

Reluctantly, she began to untangle their bodies—slow and careful, like letting go might break something. Her fingers hesitated for a beat too long at Azzi’s waist before pulling back. And then, summoning whatever courage she had left, she turned. Looked at her. Really looked.

And it was stupid, probably, but in that moment, Azzi looked like the beginning of something. Or maybe the middle of something Paige had never stopped wanting.

“Did you sleep okay?” Azzi asked, pulling on her sweatpants, her voice still scratchy with morning.

Paige nodded. “You?”

“Great,” Azzi said, and it came out like a sigh. Light. Content. Like she meant it.

They held each other’s gaze a second too long. Not uncomfortable, just weighted. Words hovering just below the surface, so many unsaid. So many that didn’t know how to come out yet.

Paige swallowed. Looked away first and grabbed her hoodie from the end of the bed, tugging it over her head.

“You ready?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. All good.”

They took the elevator in silence. Walked in silence. But as they neared the breakfast room, the quiet broke. Voices spilling into the lobby.

A few heads turned when they walked in.

“Nice of you to join us!” Jana called, far too loud for the hour.

Paige rolled her eyes, peeling off from Azzi to head toward Nika and Aaliyah. Not out of the ordinary. They always split up at team things, even when things were good. Careful to not draw too much attention.

She absentmindedly filled her plate with eggs and whatever else was closest, before doubling back for the only thing she actually wanted.

Cereal.

“Will you ever grow up?” Azzi’s voice came from just behind her, amused and familiar and so, so easy.

Paige smirked without turning around. “Wouldn’t hold your breath.”

And even though their shoulders didn’t touch, it felt like something had clicked back into place. Quietly. Carefully. Like maybe they weren’t pretending anymore. Not completely.

Paige dropped into the seat beside Nika and Aaliyah, pushing the full plate to the side without a second glance. She focused on the only thing that mattered, her bowl of Froot Loops.

“Well, good morning,” Nika sang, her grin entirely too knowing. “How are you, Paige Bueckers?”

Paige paused mid-chew, eyes narrowing. “I’m fine.”

“I can see that,” Aaliyah muttered, not even looking up from the book in her hand.

Paige turned to her, brow arched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Aaliyah shrugged. “Just saying. You look like someone who actually slept last night.”

Paige blinked. “Don’t know if I should be offended or flattered.”

“Up to you,” Aaliyah said, flipping a page.

Paige watched Aaliyah for a second longer, then finally dropped her gaze and started eating again.

“Huh.”

The sound came from across the table—low, amused, and laced with something dangerous. Paige gritted her teeth and turned toward Nika, who was watching her like she knew something Paige didn’t.

“Can I help you?”

Nika licked her lips, clearly trying not to smile. “I wasn’t aware you added a three to your number.”

“What?”

Nika nodded toward Paige’s sleeve. Paige looked down. And there it was, embroidered in soft white thread on the shoulder of her hoodie.

Not just her number. Not just 5.

35. Azzi’s number. Which meant she was wearing Azzi’s sweatshirt.

Her eyes went wide for only a second before she reeled it back in, smoothing her expression like it hadn’t cracked at all.

“Must’ve gotten them switched up in the room.”

Nika nodded slowly, a smirk slipping through. “Totally. Happens to us all the time, right Liyah?”

Aaliyah didn’t even glance up. “Constantly.”

“Last week she accidentally wore my socks,” Nika added, deadpan. “So intimate.”

Paige shot her a look. “You’re hilarious.”

“I know,” Nika said, grinning now. “And observant.”

Paige swallowed, the cereal suddenly harder to get down. She turned slowly, gaze drifting over her shoulder, like she already knew what she’d find.

Azzi sat at her table, cheeks flushed unmistakably pink. Her eyes darted between Jana and Caroline, who were whispering with the subtlety of a car alarm. Then, like she could feel it, her gaze snapped to Paige.

Their eyes locked. Azzi froze. Then her gaze dropped, first to the 35 stitched on Paige’s sleeve. Then to the 5 on her own.

Her expression flickered, a full-body oh no.

Across the table, Caroline and Jana followed the trail of her stare. Their eyes narrowed in sync before they leaned their heads together, whispering like they knew something the world didn’t. Maybe they did. But Paige didn’t really care. She just kept looking at Azzi.

They locked eyes again, stunned into silence by their own stupidity. Or softness. Or something dangerously close to both.

Paige raised a single eyebrow, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

Azzi’s mouth parted like she might say something. An excuse. A threat. A please stop looking at me like that. But all that came out was a tiny shake of her head.

Paige just shrugged. Too late now.

And maybe it was petty, but she tugged the sleeve up a little higher, just so the 35 was nice and visible.

The rest of breakfast passed without much fanfare. A few lingering looks. A few too-pointed whispers. But no one said anything outright.

Geno dismissed them with two hours to kill before departure, his only instruction being, “Use it accordingly,” in the tone that meant I don’t care what you do as long as you win.

So they filed out.

Azzi didn’t take the same elevator, and Paige beat her back to the room.

She collapsed onto the bed without thinking, face first into the pillow Azzi had used. It still smelled like her—faint shampoo, maybe lotion. Something specific and warm and unmistakably Azzi.

Real, Paige told herself. Last night was real. She let herself believe it. Clung to it like proof.

But time passed. The room stayed quiet, and Azzi was still nowhere to be found.

Paige rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling like it might give her answers. Her stomach buzzed with nerves and she tried not to read too much into the silence.

She also tried very hard not to listen to the buzz of a phone coming from across the room. Persistent. Again. And again. They didn’t bring phones to breakfast anymore. Geno had made that habit a short-lived one. So, she knew it was Azzi’s.

Paige tried to ignore it. She really did. But it was steady. Rhythmic. A little desperate.

Azzi still wasn’t back, and the silence had begun to feel like a warning.

And so, Paige stood, slow. Crossed to the other bed, where Azzi’s phone was lit up like it had something urgent to say.

She picked it up before she could think better of it.

Cam — 9 Messages

No nickname. No emojis. Just his name. Three little letters that felt too big. She didn’t mean to read them. Not really. But the previews were right there.

10:42 p.m. let me know when you're back.

10:57 p.m. you said you’d call.

11:10 p.m. guess you got distracted.

11:26 p.m. how close is too close? just wondering.

11:31 p.m. Cam FaceTime missed call

11:32 p.m. Cam FaceTime missed call

11:34 p.m. seriously azzi.

7:12 a.m. Still nothing?

7:16 a.m. it’s wild how she always manages to be the exception.

7:18 a.m. you act different when she’s around.

7:21 a.m. you think she’s not doing this on purpose?

Paige exhaled through her nose. Not quite a laugh. Not quite not. He hadn’t said her name. But he didn’t have to. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t supposed to be.

There was something in the messages—some mix of insecurity and entitlement—that made her skin crawl a little. Not loud, not dangerous. Just... controlling. Dressed up as concern.

Like Paige was a problem Azzi should’ve outgrown by now. Like Azzi owed him reassurance just for being near her. Paige set the phone back down, screen still glowing, refusing to let it consume her like she wanted to let it. And at that exact moment, the door swung open.

Azzi walked in, a little out of breath, like she’d been pacing or thinking too hard or both. Paige dove back onto her bed like she’d been caught stealing something. Azzi didn’t seem to notice or maybe she did and just didn’t care. She dropped onto her own bed with a sigh, the kind that sounded heavier than it should’ve.

“Hey.”

“Your phone’s been going off like crazy,” Paige said before she could stop herself. The words landed somewhere between casual and sharp.

Azzi blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, blunt this time.

Azzi tilted her head, brow barely furrowed, then crossed the room. She picked up the phone and studied the screen, chewing her bottom lip like she didn’t realize she was doing it.

Paige watched her, watched the way her thumb hovered before she finally tapped out a response. Something quick, definitive and set the phone back down, face-first.

“Everything okay?” Paige asked, trying to sound light. She wasn’t sure she pulled it off.

“Oh yeah,” Azzi said, and it was so clearly a lie that it almost made Paige laugh.

They lay in the silence for a while, but it wasn’t the kind that soothed.

It was heavy. It pressed against Paige’s chest like a weight she hadn’t agreed to carry, and the longer it stretched, the more she felt like she might crawl out of her own skin just to get away from it.

“Cam?” she said, too softly to sound casual.

She saw Azzi’s throat bob at the name. A beat passed. Then another.

“Yeah,” Azzi said finally.

Paige nodded, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“He doesn’t like me, does he?”

Azzi rolled over then, slow and quiet, like she already knew there wasn’t a good answer.

“No,” she said finally. “He doesn’t.”

Paige blinked, not really surprised by the answer but Azzi’s honesty.

Azzi let out a slow breath. “He’s jealous of you.”

Paige huffed a laugh.

“He thinks I turn into someone else when you're around,” Azzi added. “Someone who might not come back to him.”

That one landed harder.

Paige nodded again, slow this time. “I don’t want you to ever have to be someone else. Not for me. Not for him.”

“I know,” Azzi said.

“But he acts like I do.”

Azzi didn’t argue. Just nodded, barely, and turned her face toward the ceiling like she couldn’t look at Paige anymore.

“I didn’t tell him,” she said after a beat. “About last night.”

The silence that followed felt colder than the room had any right to be.

Paige stared at the ceiling now too. “Because it didn’t mean anything?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered shut. Like maybe if she closed them, the question would disappear.

“Paige,” she whispered. The name barely audible. “You know that’s not possible.”

Paige turned her head, watching her in the half-light like she might be able to peel her open—layer by layer—until the truth finally spilled out. And then, before she could stop herself:

“Do you think you could love him, Az?”

Not accusing. Not angry. Just a quiet kind of devastation. The kind that doesn’t ask to be answered gently.

Azzi’s breath caught. “That’s not a fair question, P.”

Paige stared at the ceiling for one more second, then turned her head.

“I don’t care,” she said, and she didn’t. Not right now. Not here, with the room pressed full of all the things they’d refused to say for two months. She didn’t want calm. She wanted the wave. Wanted to drown in it. In Azzi. In whatever this was, finally spoken out loud. “I’ve never said I was fair.”

Azzi was chewing on the inside of her cheek again. Paige watched it for a second too long, the familiar twitch of avoidance, and felt something flare in her chest. Anger maybe, or fear disguised as it.

She stood. Crossed the room before she could talk herself out of it. Lowered herself onto the bed and reached out, slow but certain. Her hands found Azzi’s face like they’d done it before. Like they still knew how.

Azzi’s skin was warm. Her eyes unreadable. Paige tilted her chin until their foreheads nearly touched.

“Do you think you could love him?” she asked again quietly.

And then, just a beat later, her voice cracked, the sentence coming out like something pulled from the trenches of her breaking heart.

“Because if you could… if that’s where this is headed, then just…tell me. And I’ll step back. I’ll get out of the way.”

Azzi didn’t move. Paige smiled. Not kindly.

“I won’t pretend I’ll be fine. I won’t do the whole mature, understanding thing. I’ll be pissed and probably a little unbearable for a while.”

She paused. Her thumbs brushed against Azzi’s cheeks, like she was memorizing the shape of her before she had to let go.

“But if there’s a version of you that’s happy without me...I’ll try not to make that harder.”

The words hung there, trembling between them. Paige didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. She just stayed there, waiting—already preparing for the worst kind of kindness.

Azzi’s POV

Three years ago

Azzi wanted to kill Paige.

She pictured it now—grabbing a pillow, shoving it over her face, maybe just hard enough to shut her up. Paige would probably still talk through it. Still try to win the argument with her last breath.

They were three hours into a game of Monopoly with her family. Her brother had already quit. Her mom was trying to referee from the kitchen. And Paige?

Paige was drunk on power.

She had Boardwalk, Park Place, and a terrifying collection of oranges. She was chewing on the corner of a Chance card and grinning.

“I’m just saying,” she said, leaning across the board like a lawyer mid-cross-examination, “if you invested earlier, this wouldn’t be happening to you.”

“You’re insufferable,” Azzi muttered, watching her dad mortgage yet another property to cover rent.

“I’m winning,” Paige corrected, and tossed the dice with one hand like she was born to do it.

Azzi rolled her eyes.

God, she’s so annoying.

And then Paige laughed—loud and shameless and totally unselfconscious—and looked at her like she’d been waiting the whole game just for Azzi to catch up.

And it hit her.

God, I’m in trouble.

The thought landed fast and quiet. No big reveal. No warning. Just Paige Bueckers, in the middle of her family’s kitchen, being a complete idiot and somehow making every person in the room fall in love with her without even trying.

Including Azzi.

Especially Azzi.

“You’re staring, Fudd. Plotting my downfall?” Paige whispered, leaning in.

Azzi jumped, like she'd been caught thinking something she shouldn't. Which, yeah. She had.

She tried to shake it off, the realization still crawling under her skin. She wanted to say no. Just realizing you’re mine. But instead, she laughed. Shoved her shoulder.

“It’s a wonder you still have friends,” she muttered, eyes fixed firmly on the board.

And Azzi, sitting across the table with her arms crossed and her pulse loud in her ears, realized her whole life had tilted slightly off its axis.

That was it. That was the shift.

No thunder. No music.

Just Paige Bueckers in a hoodie that wasn’t hers, trash-talking her little brother, laughing like the world was hers to break open and Azzi watching her like she was already broken.

She hadn’t meant for it to happen. She hadn’t even seen it coming. One second, Paige was just Paige.

The next:

She was everything.

And Azzi loved her.

She loved her in a way she didn’t have the language for. In a way that made her chest feel too crowded and too hollow, all at once. Like something blooming and breaking inside her at the same time.

In a way that made everyone else feel…quieter. Smaller. Like the volume had been turned down on the rest of the world and Paige was the only thing still in color.

Azzi blinked the memory back into her chest, where it lived. Where it always lived. And when she looked at Paige again, almost nothing had changed.The world was still dimmer. Softer. A little out of focus.

Except for her.

Paige in screaming color. Heart-stopping, breath-stealing, goddamn technicolor. Inches away, close enough to touch, and somehow still not close enough.

And Azzi, despite everything, still wanted to reach for her. She always had.

Azzi exhaled, slow and shaky, and Paige winced—like she was bracing for impact. Like she expected to be shattered. Like she had no idea. No idea that Azzi had never loved anyone else. That she couldn’t.

No matter how hard she tried. No matter who she kissed, or how far she ran, she couldn’t outrun Paige Bueckers. And if she was being honest? She never really wanted to.

Still, she’d spent the last few months trying to keep a safe distance. Not because she didn’t want Paige. But because she did. Too much.

In the kind of way that made her want to wrap herself around her and never let go. In the kind of way that made her believe, just for a second, that maybe love could be enough to protect someone like Paige from everything else.

But love didn’t work like that. No matter how badly she wished it did.

Azzi had seen it. Watched the world wear people down until all the soft parts were scraped raw. And Paige…she was made almost entirely of soft parts. Of second chances and wide-open faith and that stupid, stubborn light that made people want to be near her, even when they didn’t deserve to be.

Azzi wanted to protect her. Wasn’t that the root of it all? The world was loud, and terrifying, and unforgiving—and that scared Azzi. But the real rot, the thing she never said out loud, was simpler than fear. It was doubt.

The quiet, aching belief that she couldn’t do right by Paige. That she couldn’t give her what she needed. Not fully. Not in the ways that mattered.

Azzi had always wanted to be the person who could take on the world so Paige didn’t have to. But the truth was... she couldn’t. She couldn’t shield her from the pressure. From the attention. From the thousand tiny ways the world tried to hollow her out.

And over time, loving Paige started to feel like standing at the edge of a storm, arms stretched wide, trying to hold it back with nothing but good intentions. And it drained Azzi wholly until there was nothing left to give that didn’t ache.

She thought leaving was the kindest thing. For Paige. For herself. The most loving choice she could make. Because staying felt like dragging them both through something she couldn’t name without bleeding.

She told herself it was mercy. That walking away would hurt less than slowly coming undone. And since then, she has tried. Tried to move on. To force Paige too as well.

But now, looking at her, color-bright and too close and still holding out her heart like it wasn’t the most dangerous thing in the world to give…

Azzi felt that familiar weight settle in her chest again. That impossible, unshakable truth: I love Paige Bueckers. Even if it’s the most impossible thing in the world.

And just like that, all the shuttered windows of her heart—ones she’d nailed closed out of fear and exhaustion and the ache of almosts—swung open again. Not easily. Not cleanly. But with the creaking kind of honesty that only comes when you finally stop pretending you’re not still standing at the door, waiting.

She hadn’t meant to want this again. Hadn’t meant to let it back in. But Paige had always been the thing she couldn’t unwant. The one thing she’d never outgrow.

So maybe, finally, it was time to stop trying to outgrow impossible things. Maybe it was time to live with them. To choose them. To choose her.

She sighed, leaning her head into Paige’s palm like it steadied her. Life with Paige would never be simple. It wouldn’t be quiet. Or easy. Or something you could fold neatly into a plan.

Azzi would probably stumble. She’d fall short. Say the wrong thing when it mattered, shut down when she should speak up, lash out when all Paige wanted was softness. But she was starting to understand. Paige didn’t need perfect. Didn’t need a protector. She just needed honest.

She needed someone who would stand beside her when the lights were too bright and the world asked too much. Someone who wouldn’t flinch when the noise got loud or the pressure cracked something open.

And Azzi, God help her, wanted to be that person. Not just when it was beautiful. Not just when it was easy. But when it was messy and loud and real.

Because loving Paige Bueckers meant standing still while the world shifted. Meant holding on through the storm, not waiting for the calm. And Azzi was done running from it.

Azzi was quiet for a long time. Too long. And Paige just waited—like she always did—still and patient and probably bracing for an answer that might undo them both.

“I think I wanted to,” She finally said. “I really, really wanted to.”

Paige didn’t move. Not a blink. Not a breath.

“Because he made sense. And I was so tired of wanting things that didn’t make sense.” She laughed, barely. “But the whole time I was with him, I kept thinking about how it didn’t feel like it did with you.”

Her voice cracked. She didn’t bother to fix it.

“It didn’t make me nervous. It didn’t make me ache. It didn’t make me feel anything, not really.” She blinked, looked away. “I thought maybe that meant it was good. Safe. But it just felt quiet in all the wrong places.”A breath. “And I missed you. In every version of him.”

She forced her eyes back to Paige.

“So no,” she said. “I don’t think I could ever love him.” She paused. Let it sit there for a second. “I don’t think I could love anyone else.”

Her voice didn’t break. It didn’t have to. Then, after a beat, quieter:

“How could I Paige? I know you.” She looked up. Met Paige’s watery eyes. “Not the version people cheer for. Not the one they write about or put on billboards.”

A breath.

“I know the you who shuts down when things get too loud. The you who tries to make everything okay for everyone else even when you're barely holding it together.” Another breath, tighter this time. “And the thing is… people love the idea of you.” Her voice dropped, barely above a whisper now. “But I know you. And it’s… impossible. It’s impossible not to love you.”

Paige didn’t speak. Not right away. She just looked at her like Azzi had cracked something open in the room, in the air, in her chest. Like the words had knocked the breath out of her but left her standing.

Her hands stayed on Azzi’s cheeks, unmoving, like she was afraid that if she let go, this would all disappear. That Azzi would take it back. That the moment would fold up and vanish the way it had so many times before.

And then, quietly, so soft Azzi almost didn’t catch it:

“I’ve loved you so long it started to feel like grief.” Azzi’s breath caught. Paige blinked like she was still trying to hold herself together. “I tried to bury it. To grow around it. To pretend it wasn’t still there every time you walked into a room.”

She let out a breath, sharp and shaky.

“But it never left. You never left.”

Her thumbs brushed gently across Azzi’s skin—almost like apology, almost like worship.

“I think I’ve been waiting years for you to say that. And I think some part of me would’ve waited forever.” Paige sighed. “I know we said it—that we were together. Girlfriends. But we never really talked about what that meant. Not when it got hard.”

Azzi didn’t move. Just listened.

“We never talked about how to stay when it stopped being easy,” Paige said. “Or what it would mean if one of us started pulling away. Or how to ask for more without sounding like we were asking the other person to be less.”

Her voice cracked, just a little.

“I think I kept waiting for us to just...figure it out. Like we always did. But this wasn’t something we could outrun or joke through. She looked at Azzi then. “And I should’ve said something. Sooner. I just didn’t know how. And when you showed up at my apartment that night, I thought the kindest thing I could do…the thing that would prove I loved you most, was to let you go.”

She looked away, jaw tight, eyes watery.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave. I should’ve fought for you. For us.”

Azzi exhaled slowly. Not in frustration. Just heartbreak. Or relief. She wasn’t sure.

“It’s on me too, P,” she said gently. “You can’t always be the one doing the holding. I could’ve said something. I could’ve stayed.”

Paige blinked at her, like hearing it was somehow worse.

Azzi smiled, small and sad. “We both broke it. We both thought the other one would stop us.”

“We didn’t break it.” She looked up, eyes steady. “Not fully. I don’t think we could.”

Azzi stared at her. Breath caught. And Paige just nodded once, like that was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Things bend,” she said, “but they don’t break. Not really. They bruise. They splinter. But they hold.” Paige exhaled. “We hold. Because we’ve always been each other’s. Terribly. Damningly. Even when we were too afraid to say it out loud. Even when we pretended we weren’t.”

The words settled between them. Confessions bleeding out slowly. Shortcomings they both named. Faults they both owned. No one flinched. No one looked away.

“I know there’s still more to talk about,” she said. “Things we have to figure out. “But I’m yours. If you’ll have me. Always been yours”

Azzi bit back tears, reached out, and traced Paige’s face the way she always had, like she was memorizing her all over again.

“You were never mine to lose,” she whispered. “You’ve always been the thing I came back to. Even when I didn’t know how.”

She let her thumb rest against Paige’s cheek, breath catching.

“So yeah. I’ll have you.” A pause. “I think I always have.”

Paige leaned forward, carefully, as if touching something holy.

She rested her forehead against Azzi’s, and for a moment, they just breathed. Like that was enough. Like it had always been enough.

Then, with a smile so small it almost hurt:

“I don’t want easy.” Her voice cracked, just a little. “I want this. I want you.”

And then, finally—finally—she kissed her.

Not like a beginning. Not like an apology. But like the middle of something they’d been writing for years. Something neither of them had words for yet, but both of them had always known.

Paige’s POV

The game came and went without much stress. They did what they were supposed to do. Won. Controlled the pace. Made it look easy. No one made too much of it. That was the expectation.

There wasn’t time to celebrate doing what was expected. There never was.

The press conference was routine. Predictable questions. Predictable answers. Nika sat between them like a human buffer, mic in front of her, legs crossed It was halfway over when someone asked it. Not a stat question. Not a headline grab.

Just: “There seems to be a real shift in the team’s chemistry this season. What do you think’s changed, culture-wise?”

All eyes shift don Paige and she cleared her throat.

“I think we’ve just committed to each other more this year. Everyone knows their role, and no one’s trying to be the hero. It’s not about who scores—it’s about who shows up. We hold each other accountable, but we’ve also learned how to have each other’s backs. That kind of trust doesn’t happen overnight.”

She leaned back, stretched her arms a little like it was nothing. Just another answer. Just another press cycle. But Azzi turned her head. Looked right at her.

“That was a really good answer,” she said.

Not to the room. Not to the mic.

To Paige. Direct. Steady. Soft in the way that made Paige’s entire ribcage feel too small. Paige’s eyes flicked sideways. Her cheeks flushed, color blooming fast.

She stretched her arms again, suddenly a little restless, blinking like the lighting had changed.

“What?” she asked, not quite casual.

Azzi shrugged, still looking at her. “I said it was a good answer.”

They both snapped their attention back to the room, as if remembering they weren’t alone in it. But beside her, Nika shifted. Not much. Just a slight stiffening of posture, the kind of movement that meant she was holding back a smile so smug it could power a city.

Nika stared straight ahead, face neutral, but the smug was radiating.

Paige narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Nika tilted her head. “Nothing,” she said, far too quickly. “Just listening. Press conference, remember?”

Paige’s eyes darted to Azzi again but she was pretending to read her stat sheet like it held national secrets.

The next question rolled in, something about defensive matchups, but Paige could feel it. The heat still rising in her cheeks, the ghost of Azzi’s compliment still pressed into her skin.

When the conference finally wrapped and they stepped off the dais, Paige didn’t get more than three steps down the hallway before Nika spoke.

“You’re not subtle.”

Paige froze. “Excuse me?”

Nika didn’t even look at her. Just kept walking.

“You know you were making heart-eyes at her for half the press conference, right?”

“I was not,” Paige muttered, cheeks already warming.

Nika glanced sideways, all innocence. “Sure. And I’m not sitting directly between you like the world’s most underpaid chaperone.”

Paige groaned. “You’re making things up.”

“You blushed when she said your answer was good.”

“That’s not—”

“You stretched, Paige.” Paige clamped her mouth shut. Nika just laughed. “God, I can’t wait to get paid.”

Paige blinked. “Paid?”

“I’ve been in the betting pool since day one.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “A betting pool?”

Nika gave her a look. “Paige. I told you this last year. Well, I told you I wasn’t involved. But truth is, I practically started it.”

Paige groaned, already regretting this conversation. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No,” Nika said, grinning now. “You two are. I’ve been emotionally and financially invested in this mess since sophomore year. I deserve a bonus for emotional damages alone.”

Paige muttered something under her breath. Azzi was already waiting near the locker room door, trying very hard not to laugh. Nika leaned in as she passed, voice just low enough to sting a little:

“Took you long enough.”

Then she winked. And Paige—red-faced and heart full—didn’t even argue.

As they walked into the locker room, Nika threw her arms open and bowed like a queen returning from war.

“Pay up,” she announced, gaze sweeping the room. “Every single one of you.”

The chatter stopped. Every eye in the locker room flicked to Paige and Azzi. Not subtly. Not quickly.

Just…assessed. The space between them. The not-so-casual brush of Azzi’s shoulder against Paige’s. The way Paige didn’t even flinch when it happened, like it had already become a habit. The room practically buzzed with the sound of realization.

Jana immediately groaned. “No. Absolutely not. I won.”

Nika snorted. “You said before the season, which—spoiler alert—is not what happened.”

“We’re still in preseason,” Jana countered, already standing, arms crossed like a lawyer preparing her closing argument. “So technically, I win.”

“Technically,” Caroline chimed in, “you tampered with the outcome by getting them to room together. That’s rigging the bracket.”

“I was accelerating fate,” Jana said.

“You were cheating,” Nika corrected. “You played God with the rooming chart. You’re disqualified.”

Jana lifted her chin. “Caroline did help me with my psych project!”

Caroline sighed. “I did. But still, rules are rules.”

“There were no rules,” Jana argued. “And if there were rules against…gently pushing them together, I would’ve been disqualified forever ago.”

Nika laughed. Loud, delighted. “Yeah, we know. Between ‘accidentally’ texting Paige from Azzi’s phone and rearranging the movie night seating chart so they’d end up next to each other—”

“That was a coincidence,” Jana cut in.

“You literally made us watch The Notebook,” Caroline said flatly.

“I was creating emotional vulnerability!”

Nika grinned. “You’ve been toeing the line for weeks. But rooming them together? You cleared it. That was a full-on sabotage play.”

Jana rolled her eyes. “I should at least get half.”

“You should get a moral penalty,” Caroline muttered.

In the middle of it all, Azzi paused, towel slung around her neck, brow furrowed.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “What?”

Silence.

She turned to Nika. “Paid for what?”

Nika blinked. “Oh.”

Jana looked at her. “She doesn’t know?”

“Guess not,” Nika said, not even a little apologetic. She smiled. “There’s been a...small betting pool.”

Azzi blinked. “A what.”

“On when you and Paige would finally get your shit together,” Caroline said, like it was obvious.

“Been going since sophomore year,” Nika added cheerfully. “Technically it closed when we all knew you were together last year. But then you broke up—or, like, emotionally imploded without telling anyone—so we reopened the pool. Odds were terrible a month ago but I held the damn line.”

Azzi looked around the room like she’d been dropped into an alternate universe. “You were betting on us?”

“I prefer to think of it as investing in emotional inevitability,” Nika said.

Azzi’s jaw dropped. “We were in turmoil.”

“And we appreciate your suffering,” Jana said, clapping her on the back. “Deeply.”

Azzi turned to Paige, scandalized. “Did you know about this?”

“Don’t look at me. I just found out in the hallway.”

Azzi opened her mouth, then shut it. And then, she laughed.

“You’re all insane.”

“And you’re in love,” Nika said, already opening her phone. “Which means I’m rich.”

The room went quiet for a second, but then it hit Paige.

“Wait,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You all knew we were together last year?”

The entire locker room groaned in unison.

“Not like you’re subtle, P,” someone muttered.

“You used to wait for her after film,” Aaliyah said. “Like a golden retriever in basketball shorts.”

“You guys shared entire closets,” Caroline added. “You’d wear something one day and then Azzi would show up in it a few days later.”

“That’s just being proactive with fashion,” Paige argued.

Snorts followed. “Yeah, because you’re so known for sharing your NIL-funded closet with the rest of us.”

“I’m generous,” Paige muttered.

“Name one other person on this team who’s worn your coach jacket,” Nika said, raising a brow.

Paige opened her mouth. Closed it. Pointed at Azzi. “Technically, she wore it without asking.”

“Exactly,” Caroline said, triumphantly. “You didn’t even blink.”

“Because she’s Azzi,” Paige said, like that explained everything.

The room, once again, groaned. But this time, it sounded different. There was laughter, yes, but behind it, Paige could see it. The love in their eyes. The knowing. The relief.

She looked around and saw it clearly: They’d never been hiding. Not really. And keeping it a secret had been a waste of time. Because the people who mattered had always known. And worse…they’d been rooting for them.

Paige let out a quiet breath. Then glanced sideways, where Azzi was watching her with something soft behind her smile.

Nika shoved her before clearing her throat, “With that said, Venmo me or bring cash to the next practice. Thanks for playing.”

“Split pot,” Jana grumbled.

“No chance,” Nika replied, already texting. “Love and capitalism, baby.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡⌦ .｡.:*♡❁۪۪ ཻུ♡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

They didn’t say much on the way back. Not because there was nothing left to say, just because the silence finally felt like something they didn’t need to fill.

Azzi’s pinky brushed against Paige’s once, then stayed there. And Paige held on like it was permission.

It was late when they got to campus, the sky a kind of navy that made the world feel folded in. Paige lingered outside the door of Azzi’s dorm, keys in Azzi’s hand, like maybe it wasn’t real until they were inside.

“I can go back to mine,” Paige offered, not really meaning it.

Azzi turned to her. No hesitation.

“Or you could stay.”

The words landed soft.

Paige nodded, like her heart had already decided. “Yeah. Okay.”

They didn’t do anything important but being together was important enough.

Azzi tossed her an old worn shirt. Paige’s favorite, secretly. And they grinned at each other as she tugged it on. They sat on the couch, sharing one blanket, and half watched a movie neither of them cared much about.

Around 1:30 a.m., Azzi’s head dropped against Paige’s shoulder and stayed there.

Paige didn’t move. Didn’t breathe, maybe.

The credits were halfway through when Azzi finally stirred, blinking up at her with sleep in her eyes.

“You could’ve woke me up,” she murmured.

Paige shrugged, eyes still on the screen. “Was kind of enjoying it.”

Azzi laughed and stood, tugging Paige up by the hand without a word.

Later, tangled in sheets that smelled like laundry detergent and something distinctly Azzi, Paige lay there for a while, eyes on the ceiling, heart doing something that felt both too fast and too careful. And then, without looking at her, she asked:

“Do you think we missed it?”

Azzi didn’t move. Just listened.

“The timing,” Paige added, like she couldn’t bear to say it twice.

There was a beat. Then Azzi’s sighed.

“Maybe.” She shifted just enough for their arms to brush under the blanket. “But I think we found the version of us that lasts,” she said. “And I’d take that over the one that didn’t.”

Paige closed her eyes. Let that sit in the dark with them. Then she whispered, barely audible

“Don’t let me ruin it.”

Azzi didn’t laugh. Didn’t say you won’t.

She just reached under the covers, found Paige’s hand, and held it like that was the answer.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡⌦ .｡.:*♡❁۪۪ ཻུ♡˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

The knock came in the morning.

Not hesitant. Not aggressive. Just…certain. Like whoever it was already knew what they’d find on the other side.

Paige stirred first. Azzi’s shirt hung off her shoulder, boxers hanging from her hips, hair a tangle from sleep. She rubbed a hand over her face, still floating in that warm, soft quiet The kind that made her feel like the world had stopped just long enough for them to exist.

She opened the door without thinking.

Cam.

He laughed. Not loudly. Just once. Low. Bitter.

“Bueckers,” he said, like it tasted wrong in his mouth. “Of course.”

Paige tucked her hair behind her ears. “Good morning to you too.”

He didn’t smile. Just shook his head, eyes flicking down to the shirt she wore. Clearly Azzi’s. Then past her—to the two mugs on the table. One blanket on the couch. The faint sound of movement from the bedroom.

“I think I always knew,” he said, voice low but clean. Like he’d practiced it. “I just kept hoping she’d grow out of you.”

Paige’s jaw twitched, but she didn’t bite.

“I’m not a phase,” she said, finally.

Cam let out a dry laugh. “No. You’re a habit. A bad one she keeps calling back.”

Paige swallowed. “You should go.”

“You know what the worst part is?” Cam went on, like he’d been waiting to say this. “I watched her. Watched her watch you. Squirm when you were around. I could tell you hurt her. One way or another.”

He stepped forward a little. Not close enough to touch. Just enough to make her brace.

“And then she goes back to you.”

Paige's voice was flat. “She made a choice.”

He smiled without smiling. “She made a mess.”

There was a beat—long enough for the air between them to curdle. And this time, she saw it. The hurt. The fury. The part of him that wanted to say something worse, and the part that knew it wouldn’t change a thing.

Cam’s eyes narrowed.

“She used to flinch when your name came up.”

Paige hated that. Hated that he knew it. Hated that she knew it was true. It hit somewhere specific…somewhere ugly. The part of her that burned too hot, too fast. The part that never liked Azzi’s name in anyone else’s mouth. Especially his. But she didn’t let it show. Didn’t blink.

She just raised an eyebrow. Deadpan.

“And now she wears my shirt to bed,” Paige said. “We all evolve.”

Cam’s jaw twitched.

“She’s going to regret this,” he said.

Paige just nodded. She knew he was pissed. Hurt. People say all kinds of things when their back’s against the wall. But for all her media training and carefully crafted answers, she didn’t really care.

She hated Cam. Unfairly, maybe. But fully. So she shrugged, casual.

“It kind of sounds like you’re just trying to convince yourself, Cam.”

She didn’t give him time to respond. Just shut the door gently in hopes to not wake Azzi. Exhaling, she leaned her head against the door, trying to slow her heart.

“Baby?” Azzi’s voice floated down the hall, groggy and warm.

Paige smiled and any tension still clinging to her spine unraveling with that one word.

“Coming, Az,” she called back, her voice gentler now.

She turned away from the door. From Cam. From all of it. And walked toward the only thing that felt like peace.

#pazzi #pazzi fics #azzi x paige #paige x azzi

248 notes · View notes

urfavhecate · 3 months ago

Text

I’ve been waiting for too long | drunk!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: After your breakup with Wanda, Natasha takes care of you… good care…

Warnings: oneshot, drunk Natasha, SMUT, +18, MDNI ! drunk sex, breakup mention, short one, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), multiple orgasm, kinda overstimulation.

Note: Hey guy, it has been long time since last post. As always… English isn’t my first language sp im sorry for all mistakes. This year I have my finals so it’s hard to find time for hobbies but I hope I’ll find more time to write some stuff. If you have any ideas for next shots or stories m requests are open, or if you want to yapp a little I’m also here. <3

No one is allowed to copy, translate or pubish my work as their own!

The life of an Avengers was never easy. As soon as you started your relationship with Wanda, you felt like you had found everything you needed, almost like you had grabbed God by the legs. However, as it quickly turned out, nothing lasts forever, because a few months later Wanda broke up with you.

It was one of those evenings when the Avengers tower seemed empty. While everyone else was busy with their own things, Natasha was sitting in the living room drinking her beer. When she saw you enter the room, she handed you a bottle so you could rest a bit.

„Have a drink and relax” she simply said. You thanked her and fell down on the couch next to Natasha. She just looked at you, knowing something was wrong. "Rough day?" she asked with a stoic face.

“Wanda broke up with me,” you replied quietly, your voice breaking at the thought of what had happened. “She chose that fucking toaster on legs over me.”

Natasha couldn’t help but giggle softly at the comment. “Vision you mean?”

“i don’t get it… what did i do wrong?”

Natasha’s smirk disappeared from her face. She leaned back on the couch, and she sighed before she could muster up a response. “Maybe you didn’t do anything… Sometimes its about what people want or don’t want”

“But him?! Really?! What did he have what i don’t?” You were irritated just thinking about him. He was a robot, he wasn’t even human.

"Beats me... He can fly and shoot lasers from his head" Natasha laughed again "You know... not everyone has good taste"

You laughed softly as you started to question whether or not he had a metal dick. You started to joke as Natasha smiled knowing that she cheered you up a bit, she didn't like seeing you down. Your relationship had always been weird. It wasn't just friendly flirting, but you never talked about what was between you, pretending that you were just friends and worked together.

“I think we should find you a new hobby because I don’t want to picture his metal dick again” The redhead laughed.

“I have one idea… We could always go to a bar”

It wasn’t long before you ended up at one of the nearby bars, drinking and dancing. A few shots and drinks later, you both were visibly tipsy, the alcohol was taking effect. Natasha’s usual composure loosened as her inhibitions lowered, her gaze more carefree and lighthearted. She leaned back against the barstool, studying you with a lazy smirk on her face.

“What?” you giggled noticing she was staring at you.

“Nothing… You just a lot more fun when youre drunk” she answered letting inner thoughts threaten to spill out.

When you finished on the dance floor, your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, you danced and your bodies rubbed against each other. She let her hand drift to your hip, pulling you even closer to her. Her eyes met yours, dark with mix of intoxication and desire.

“You're beautiful you know that?” you mumbled moving closer to her, your lips were now just inches apart.

“Am I?” she murmured softly, her voice a low seductive purr “Or is that just the alcohol talking”

“you are hot as fuck” Natasha's smirk turned cocky as her eyes burned with desire. She gently pushed you backwards until your back hit the wall, trapping you against it with the weight of her body. Her hand moved from your hip to your chin, tipping your face up to meet her gaze. Natasha chuckled, her body pressing against yours, her hand still holding your chin, her gaze boring into yours. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your earlobe, her voice a heady whisper in your ear.

"You don't know what you're asking for," she muttered huskily, her free hand roaming over the fabric of your clothes. "I can make you feel things you've never felt before." Wanda wasn’t really dominant so this was new and exiting at the same time.

Natasha dragged you into a taxi and you headed back to the tower. Throughout the whole way, you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves, wandering over the other woman's body.

Natasha's patience had reached its limit. The moment the elevator doors closed behind you, she punted. She slammed you against the wall, her body trapping yours, her gaze smoldering with desire.

"I can't wait anymore," she panted, her hands roaming all over your body, touching you with a desperate need. Her lips found your neck, kissing and nipping, leaving a trail of heated affection “I’ve been waiting for too long”

You moaned when her lips touched your neck and your fingers tangled with her hair. Natasha hummed against your neck, the sound a mixture of approval and desire. Your moan sent a jolt of arousal through her body, fueling her need to feel your skin against hers. Her hands roamed freely over your body, slipping under your clothes, seeking more contact, more flesh. Her kisses moved up until her lips found yours, capturing them in a passionate, demanding kiss.

When you got out of the elevator, Natasha immediately pushed you against the wall. Natasha groaned when you wrapped your leg around her waist, the action bringing your bodies even closer together. She ground her hips against you, the movement hard and desperate, her need for you becoming almost primal. She broke the kiss just long enough to let out a ragged exhale, her breath mingling with yours. "I want you. Now."

“Say it again... please….” You moaned. Natasha's hand gripped your hip, her fingers digging into your flesh as she pushed you harder against the wall. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a low, sinful whisper.

"I want you. I need you. Now." Her hand slid up the length of your thigh, hooking your leg over her hip, the movement more possessive than ever before. "You understand?"

At that moment, you didn't care about the breakup or that anyone could see you two. Natasha's sloppy kisses were driving you crazy, so you dragged her to your room. Natasha pushed you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and pinning your hands above your head.

"Wanda never dominated you huh?" Natasha smiled knowing it was true. "Baby with me you'll feel things you could only dream of with Wanda"

A moment later they ended up naked in your bed. Natasha moved lower kissing your chest, your stomach and finally ending between those legs. She couldn't help herself and ran her tongue through your wet folds. She moaned loudly at the taste of you on her tongue.

"oh god... you taste so good"

Your fingers tangled in her hair holding her where you needed her the most. Her tongue moved faster and faster, and you squirmed beneath her. Natasha grabbed your thighs to keep you in place. She continued to eat your pussy like it was her last meal. She was hungry for your taste. It wasn't long before she added her fingers, pushing two of them roughly into your pussy. You moaned with pleasure, wanting more. You tugged at her hair, holding her between your shaking legs. Her movements were still sloppy from the alcohol. She mumbled something under her breath as she gently sucked on your clit.

"I’m… I’m gonna... cum... Natasha please… can I cum?" you moaned. Your body trembled as you ere closer to the pleasure, as Natasha’s fingers curled inside you, finding that sweet spot.

"Good girl, asking for permission... such a submissive good girl." Natasha mumbled, pushing another finger into your pussy "Cum for me baby"

It wasn't long before you came on Natasha's face. The redhead lapped up your juices, not wanting to waste a single drop. Her face was covered in your orgasm and her eyes still held a hunger. Her pupils were much larger and her irises were a darker shade of green.

“Nat… Natasha… oh god… fuck…!”

“Good girl, scream my name… my good girl” she kept mumbling.

As you came down from your high, you thought Natasha would pull away to kiss you, but she continued eating your pussy. She couldn't hold back, it only took a moment for her to become addicted to your taste. Natara's free hand pressed gently against your lower abdomen.

"Natasha...tooo sensitve..." you tried to pull away but Natasha held you in place.

"Don't you dare move. Just one more"

Natasha continued fucking you not paying attention to the overwhelming pleasure that was spreading throughout your body. Life mattered to your cheeks. Your legs shook as Natasha's fingers moved in and out at a rapid pace. You squirmed, moaning her name like a prayer.

"I can't...I can't…" You kept screaming.

"You can do it baby....You'll feel so good..."

“Tell me when you belong to… Tell me you’re mine…” She softly bit your clit.

“I’m yours… only yours…”

As you came a second time Natasha smiled and kissed your forehead. Her hands moved to your breasts. “I’m not done with you yet”

#wlw #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #scarlett johansson x y/n #scarlett johansson #blackwidow #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff smut #oneshot #the avengers #smut #fanfiction #natasha smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #marvel #nat x reader #lesbian

778 notes · View notes

springismss · 28 days ago

Text

ᱬ⛧ baby mine 2.0 ~ s. todoroki

sum: how would shoto feel about becoming a father? here's a little month-by-month on how things would feel/go.

pairing: husband! shoto todoroki x wife! reader

content: sfw - established relationship, pregnancy, just an overview. fluffy and sweet. epilogue spoilers of shoto’s hero position for anime only watchers/those not caught up on the manga/new fans.

a/n: oh hey, i'm finally back after my first week of training at my new job with a work i've been doing when i come home. this is just a little rewrite of baby mine which i posted a good few years ago, but i feel like this is a good follow-up to perfect as well (both of which will be linked below). as always, likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated.

word count: 2.1k

links: bnha/mha masterlist | baby mine | perfect | masterlist

The air felt thick as you paced back and forth, chewing on your fingernail as you looked at the object on the bathroom countertop. You should be used to this feeling, but you still felt the same antagonising dread at what you would see. And much like every other time, you prayed that this one would be different.

The sound of the timer going off brought you out of your little ritual, feet bringing you to a stop in front of the object. Maybe you should leave it, pretend this wasn't happening once again and throw the stupid thing away. You knew what you were about to see, a sight all too familiar these past few years.

Taking a shaky breath, you reached forward and grabbed hold of the object, hand shaking slightly as you stalled for a moment. This was like every other time, so why were you feeling more anxious this time? Deciding it was best to get it over and done with, you quickly turned the object over, only to be met with the words you never thought would appear for you ever again.

‘Pregnant 3+’

Holding back a sob, you gripped the counter to ground yourself. This had to be a joke, right? A faulty test. Something just to get your hopes up before it was cruelly ripped away from you again. You didn't think you had it in you to go through that again.

A sudden knocking on the door brought you to your senses as you quickly wiped your eyes, hoping to catch any stray tears that had begun to fall. "(y/n)? Are you okay? You've been there a while this time". Of course, they were worried; you could tell by how they sounded.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you turned and walked towards the door, placing your hand on the handle and opening it with a small click. You looked up, taking in the person in front of you, the person who was just as worried as you were.

Shoto Todoroki - your husband and the current number two pro hero.

"Sorry my love, it took a little longer than I thought. I couldn’t find the towels…”. The look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you had been doing. Your ever attentive husband always knew when you were up to something, especially when it come to something like this.

It was no secret, that despite his past, both you and Shoto wanted to expand your family with a child of your own. A child that would no doubt be showered with love and given a childhood the pro never had a chance to have.

"So, tell me...". More tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold back another sob, unable to find the right words to say. Shoto, used to the heartbreak as well, sighed out, crushed that yet another attempt, to him, had been unsuccessful. "It's okay, there's always next time".

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him as he ran his hand through your hair. Trying to soothe you in one of the best ways he could. He knew it wasn't much, but it was the best he could do. Feeling powerless, even as your husband was a gut-wrenching feeling

"Sho, I'm pregnant". He looked at your teary eyes in shock as your words slowly began to sink in, looking down at your outstretched hand that held the test. A big smile tugging at his lips as he cupped your face, kissing you softly.

♡ Month 2 ♡

The feeling of being on cloud nine never left for you both, although Shoto was slightly wary. Sure his relationship with his father was slowly getting better but due to his childhood and upbringing, he was always left second-guessing himself.

What if he fucked up? What if he didn't fall into the role of being a father? Those questions stayed at the back of his mind, regardless of how much he pushed them aside. "Shoto, I still can't believe we're going to be parents".

Looking down at your belly, you smiled and rubbed your hand over your still soft stomach. As the days passed, it felt more like a dream. Sure, you'd suffered with the morning sickness, the bouts of fatigue, but you knew it would be worth it in the end. "We can't wait to see you, little one!".

The dual-haired male looked at you and smiled. He knew you'd support him in this journey, his past couldn't define how he was as a dad. Only he could, and with you by his side, he knew you would always cheer him on.

♡ Month 3 ♡

A blank screen greeted the two of you as you both entered a room, exchanging greetings with the sonographer.

Today was the day the two of you would get to see your child for the first time. Various 'what ifs' ran through your mind as you gripped Shoto's hand. His eyes looking into yours in a silent promise everything would be okay. He knew you wouldn’t be able to handle another heartbreak.

Laying yourself down, you got comfortable and closed your eyes as you waited for a sign that everything was fine. That the life growing inside you was still there and stronger than ever. The lump in your throat growing dangerously until you heard it.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

That small sound made you open your eyes, tears lining your waterline as you saw the tiny life on the screen. A slight squeeze of your hand drew your attention to Shoto, his eyes shining as he looked at your child.

"A perfectly happy and healthy baby. Such a strong heartbeat already".

Both of you smiled at each other, the tears finally slipping down the sides of your face as you took in the image. The lump that had been there moments ago was slowly disappearing as you gazed at the screen.

♡ Month 4 ♡

A small bump had begun to appear on you, your body finally starting to show the presence of the small life you were carrying. Your hand never left your bump whenever you had the time to touch it. "I guess I look kind of pregnant now".

Looking down, you smiled and wrapped your arms around your husband, your eyes meeting his before you closed yours slightly, falling into a much-needed sleep.

Gazing over you, then down to where you were starting to swell, Shoto’s eyes flashed in slight worry before returning to normal, gently placing a hand on yours, careful not to wake your sleeping form.

He wasn't going to lie, he was scared. Scared of what was to come and the type of father he'd be. No one could blame him, not even you, but you'd support him no matter what.

♡ Month 5 ♡

Facing the ultrasound screen again, the pair of you chatted amongst yourselves, having the odd argument about the gender of your child. Of course, you didn't mind what you were having, but it was nice to have a little friendly bet on who would be right.

The small image of your child appeared on the screen again as your hearts began thumping in disbelief, the high you felt gazing on the small life never leaving. Everything was perfect and normal, even seeing what looked like a small wave or two.

"Now, would you like to know the gender?". You both looked at each other, nodding with a smile. It might have seemed like a stupid question, one that others would most likely say no to, but to you and Shoto, it would mean you would get to prepare for what was to come.

"Well, I can tell you both, you're having a perfectly healthy baby-".

♡ Month 6 ♡

Clothes. Toys. Essentials.

You name it, it began to pile up as you started to finally prepare properly for the arrival of your child. Emotions had began to run high, and if it wasn't floods of tears, it was hot tempers. Your hormones weren't helping you whatsoever, as the slightest thing would set you off.

Shoto walked into the bedroom to find you curled up on the bed, a small baby grow hugged to your chest as you sobbed. In an obvious panic, he ran over and held you close to him after he sat down. "Hey, baby, what's wrong?".

That sentence, despite coming from a good place, made you cry harder, muffled sobbing sounding against his chest.

Turns out you were emotional over the fact that a small baby could fit into that piece of clothing.

♡ Month 7 ♡

Shoto's family gushed over you continually, making sure you were safe and comfortable whenever you visited them with Shoto.

Fuyumi and Rei would excitedly touch your bump, asking a variety of questions. Gossiping and sharing stories of how Shoto was as a baby, some making you laugh at your husband’s embarrassment.

Natsuo would spend time with Shoto, casually talking about life with his younger brother. Especially how he was feeling regarding the upcoming arrival and, despite not being a father himself, encouraging him to enjoy the years ahead.

Enji, on the other hand, would sit back and watch on. Taking in the buzz around him with a somewhat contented smile on his face. He still has a bit of a way to go before he could be a part of the family unit.

♡ Month 8 ♡

Things became more painful and tiring for you as your body ached. You wanted nothing more than for the heavy feeling to go and have your baby in your arms. Showering them with all the cuddles and kisses you could manage. "(y/n), it won't be long now, I promise".

You looked up a little and smiled, the overwhelming tiredness visible on your face. He hated not being able to help you, take away the pain you felt, the uneasiness, but most of all the worry. The worry that something was going to go wrong, regardless of you both making it this far.

Resting a hand on your swollen belly, you felt the strong movements as you hummed out. Taking hold of your husband's hand, you rested it on the place you had your hand moments ago, just in time to feel a kick.

"I hope so, Shoto. I just want to meet our little one".

♡ Month 9 ♡

A new cry pierced the silence of the room, ringing loud and clear as you gripped onto Shoto. The two of you smiled as tears slipped down your faces. The emotions you felt finally crashed through you at once. "You did it (y/n)! I'm so proud of you".

Shoto placed soft kisses on your dazed face as a small bundle was placed into your arms. The baby moved around slightly, settling down on the softness of its mother's skin, beginning its first feed. Eyes opening slightly before shutting, suckling away.

"White hair with red tips, gorgeous blue eyes. She's definitely a Todoroki".

You looked up as Shoto sat down beside you, giving a tired smile as you nodded your head. The past months had been a whirlwind. Despite the tiring time you’d just been through and the way your body ached, this moment made it worth every single second.

♡ The first year ♡

The tiring nights. The endless amount of changes and feeds.

Shoto couldn't deny it; it was hard. Really hard. He constantly second-guessed himself, and he didn't feel like he was good enough. Even during those doubtful times, you encouraged him as his biggest supporter, be that through words or actions, you always made sure he was okay.

Things became slightly easier, and cuddles and kisses became more frequent as your daughter grew. New milestones and wonders greeted you all. Even Shoto's family adored their niece and granddaughter. Especially Enji, who took his time, taking great care not to mess up this time around.

Then came the words.

The day she said "Dada".

Shoto sat crying. Normally, he wasn't one for showing emotion, but the moment she said that, he couldn't hold back. From the moment he found out you were finally pregnant to the first time holding his beautiful daughter, he couldn't believe he could be a dad, yet he was such a perfect dad to this little girl who couldn't help but adore the very ground he walked on.

Picking her up, he gently rocked the small girl as her eyes slowly closed, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

"I've got you, princess. Daddy will keep you safe. I'll always be your number one hero, no matter what happens".

permanent tags; @ani-net

312 notes · View notes

rogue-durin-16 · 1 month ago

Text

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part XIX/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri @ecompstolemysoul @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitter-post-millennial @gotxpenny @knight-of-thesun @scottstr3et

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, warfare, period typical misogyny

A/N: the shower scene ain't here, don't let my writing deceive you. It might or might not get posted in a couple of days as a drabble but I told you nothing. In the meantime, enjoy this part<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The mud didn't freeze right in Hagenau. It half-hardened, half-sucked at your boots, thick and sluggish like it couldn't make up its mind. The recently installed showers in the middle of the street didn't exactly help with that issue either.

"Alright... Second Platoon, on me!"

Malarkey looked like sleep was something he owed and never planned on repaying. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward as if he was trying to cave into himself. Maybe he thought if he curled in enough, the weight of everything wouldn't find him.

"I'll be leading this patrol." He stated, barely sparing us a proper glance. "They want Grant, Webster, Liebgott, Jackson, Y/l/n—"

My heart lurched.

"—Shifty from Third," Malarkey continued, looking over his shoulder to follow a distressed Jackson as the kid stalked away from the group.

"Is there anybody they want from First?" Cobb, who had gravitated towards what was left of our platoon, questioned.

"Is there anybody they don't want from Second?" Joe jumped in, his voice dripping with bitterness. Malarkey limited himself to walk away from the semicircle around him and toward the shower. "Swear to god," he grunted, his attention turning to me, Webster and Grant at his left. "We'd be down to three men and they'd still want us for it."

No one agreed with him out loud; after one too many promised breaks that didn't carry out past the officers' mouths, no one needed to agree with Joe aloud. He walked after Don, slow and heavy, in the direction of the steaming tents that didn't belong here, in a gutted town too far away from home.

"Can't believe they're gonna make Malarkey lead it." Chuck muttered, eyes trained on the ginger, now taking off his uniform like it was costing him something to get through the simplest motions.

"He just lost his five best friends," Babe sarcastically responded, his resentment towards the war evident in his voice. "What the fuck's he gotta live for?"

Chuck smacked the redhead's arm, earning a confused complaint from him —one that was quickly sorted out by Grant's head tilting in my direction. I pretended not to catch it.

It had been a rough couple of days. Or weeks. Or months. Years? I couldn't remember the last time I had allowed myself to feel something that wasn't dictated by the piercing cold or the bone-gnawing grief.

My battered boots carried me through the short path marked by Malarkey and Joe. Babe, Chuck and Cobb followed close behind while Webster stayed back with that new replacement. Another fresh faced soldier eager to prove himself in front of the veterans. This one was worse, though. It was always worse when they were officers.

We reached the edge of the tent, the heat rolling out in ghostly puffs from under the flaps. I started undoing the different straps, fingers clumsy from the cold, nodding to feign interest in whatever Chuck was mumbling about Webster.

The jacket was barely off my shoulders when the Lieutenant called stiffly for a rank.

"Wait— Sergeant?"

I fingers stilled around the worn-out fabric, both me and Grant meeting Lieutenant Jones' face, whose squinted glance was already trained on me.

"You're undressing?" he sounded incredulous enough to make me second-guess my actions for an instant, eyes scanning my friends' reactions, all of who gave me some variation of a tired shrug or a soft shake of their head.

Ignore him.

"I'm about to take a shower, Sir." My breath fogged in the air before me, almost deadpanning, as I shrugged off the jacket.

"That's not appropriate." I blinked at his statement. His narrowed gaze, devoid of authority but not effort, didn't relent at my lack of immediate obedience. "You can't go in there with the men."

Oh, God.

Before I could border on insolence due to the patience I didn't have, Malarkey stopped undressing to intercede for me.

"Sir, it's standard. It's been for months." He pointed his thumb behind us, prompting the officer to look at the overcrowded showers. "Regiment can't spare a tent just for her."

"It's distracting for the men." The younger soldier insisted.

"The fuck are you talkin' about?" Joe spat, gifting Jones an annoyed glare.

"Lieb." Malarkey muttered with caution.

"If Regiment can't spare a tent for her, then she shouldn't be here to begin with." Jones squared his jaw, puffed up his chest like the books had told him to. "She's not to shower with the men. I won't allow it."

"You won't allow it?" I scoffed. "So I'm stuck smelling like shit 'cause you're too much of a prude, Lieutenant?"

"That's no way to address a superior."

"Okay, West Point, what if you think before opening that big fucking mouth again?" Joe snapped, pivoting on his foot to face the baffled officer whilst removing his combat suspenders and cartridge belt.

"You're both out of line."

"They're out of line, Sir?" Grant questioned, pointing at both of us. "You're asking one of your Sergeants not to shower and they're out of line? For fuck's sake."

Maybe it was the easiness in his tone, or maybe the fact that all of us were past pretending kids with higher ranks and pristine uniforms had a say on what was appropriate or not, but we all went back to peeling off the dirty ODs to discard them on a pile.

"You get into that shower," Jones tried one last time, as sternly as possible. "You'll be disobeying a direct order, trooper."

That got our attention.

"What?"

"I think I made myself clear."

I blankly stared at him for a hot second. Perhaps eight months ago, I would have sucked it up; would have tried to find another way around it, a smarter one that wouldn't get me in trouble. Instead, without breaking eye contact with the Lieutenant, I pulled my sweater over my head. Then came the shirt. My digits were about to tug out the undershirt when a hand as frozen as mine clasped around my wrist, yanking my hold away from the item of clothing.

"What are you doing?" Don whispered, hollowed eyes filled with concern and exhaustion.

I attempted to release myself from my friend's grasp with no fruition. "Let go."

"Please, don't make a scene."

"I'm making a scene?" My voice broke on the edge of a bitter laugh, partly embarrassed. Mostly hurt. "I wanna have a shower, Don."

"Put on the damn shirt." He urged me, shoving the sweater back into my arms. "We'll sort this out with Speirs."

"I'm taking that damn shower."

"Jesus Christ, Y/n—" he exhaled, looking over my shoulder at Jones. "You're not about to get court-martialled for taking off your shirt."

"Don't care."

"Try to think with your head for a minute, okay?" The ginger nearly hissed, a stark contrast from the softening of his hold. "You're smarter than this."

It shouldn't have sounded like an offense, but it did to me. Probably because it came from him out of everyone.

"Alright, fuck this." I stepped away from Malarkey, sliding into the sweater again before turning heel and stalking away from the showers with my chin casted down. I didn't miss the way Joe's hand brushed my forearm when I walked past him; an effort to hold me back that didn't take him anywhere.

JOE'S P. O. V.

It took me a minute to find her—she'd beelined to second platoon's claimed shelter and down into the basement. The air smelled like damp stone and smoke. When I opened the door, Y/n spared me a second-long look before turning away. She was moving, pacing; grabbed her gear at some point to move it from the table to the shelf. She was desperately trying to keep herself busy in a way that made her resemble a hand grenade that had been stripped of its pin.

"You gonna talk or just stand there like a ghost?" She asked eventually, tucking behind her ear a strand of hair, shorter than the rest —the one that kept getting in the way whenever she bent over. Probably my doing, since the last time I had trimmed her hair, my hands had been unsteady due to the unforgiving winter.

She had yet to complain about that.

"Goddamnit, Liebgott. Just say what you're thinking.

I'm worried.

"I'm not thinking shit." I quickly countered, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

She laughed, or at least tried to, and finally turned to meet my gaze head-on. "Okay, that's bullshit."

There were a thousand ways I could have gone down to explain why the dullness in her irises and the way her shoulders hunched broke me a little; a thousand ways I could have said she didn't seem to realize how far past her breaking point she was, how scared I was she'd snap like a twig in the next patrol.

There were a thousand ways and yet I picked the worst one.

"You're getting sloppy."

"Sloppy." She repeated, slow, tilting her chin down with a quirked brow. "I'm getting sloppy."

"Almost got court-martialled over a shower," I pointed out, meaner than intended. "How'd you call that?"

"I call it being fucking sick and tired." Her tone faltered at the end of the sentence. Whether it was due to rage or sorrow, I couldn't tell. "Got something else to say? Or did you bolt from the showers queue to say I'm getting fucking sloppy?"

"You're not yourself." I laid it plain and simple, not quite realizing how wrong it must have come across until Y/n's face twisted with poorly masked pain, her brows drawing together. "None of us are the same," I added after a beat, trying to soften a blow I didn't know I had dealed. "But you're not even—"

"You are." She cut me off, with a calculating undertone that promised to hurt me just as bad. "You're exactly the same. Haven't changed one bit since we left Toccoa."

The silence was brief, but it violently clawed at the walls, at us. At me.

"Fuck's that supposed to mean?"

She scorned, but refused to give me clearance before moving in my direction, past my form, reaching for the door handle, twisting it—

SLAM!

Her flinching to my sudden, harsh movement was barely noticeable, and when she looked at me I saw nothing but fatigue.

"What the hell do you want from me, Joe?" she bit out, stepping forward, her voice brittle and hot all at once. "'Cause I don't have it in me to argue my ass off just so you can feel something other than miserable."

My heart thudded once, violent and loud, before cracking. She saw it. Considered backpedaling. Didn't do it. Instead, she yanked the door open.

I shut it again.

"Are you really gonna give me shit for tryin' to feel something other than fuckin' misery and cold and pain?" I barked, more pained than angry.

She took half a step forward, her digits abandoning the knob. "Fuckin' feel it with someone else."

"I don't wanna fuckin' feel it with someone else."

The words punched their way out, choking the air out of me so I wouldn't be able to swallow them, no matter how hard I tried. What she had expected me to throw back at her, it clearly wasn't that.

"... What?"

"You heard me."

Her mouth opened and closed twice before she questioned, "What's that even supposed to mean?"

"I'm not gonna spell it out for you."

She didn't look away. Not once. Just stood there and stared like she was trying to pick apart a puzzle she didn't wanna solve. Somehow that made it all worse.

"Fuck off." She breathed out, turning to lean back against the door, bracing herself with her eyes trained on her feet.

It wasn't really dismissive, nor hostile. It wasn't easy to read, either. My jaw clenched, bitting back the anxiety bubbling in my chest, my fingertips rapidly tapping the splintered wood as an outlet for the stress that threatened to tip me over the edge.

"Had we met outside of this," she began in a defeated stance, "would you have even looked my way?"

I sat on her question for an instant too long, gritting my teeth, taking her words apart to put together mine in a way that wouldn't make it all blow up in my face.

Would she have looked my way?

"Who the fuck cares? There's no outside." My voice, panicked to some degree, jumped an octave, scraping my windpipe on its way out. The hand that still rested against the door clenched. Unclenched. Clenched again. "There's no outside anymore, alright?" I reiterated.

Y/n looked straight ahead, her locked profile silhouetted against the cracked grey wall, her hands fisting the sleeves of her wool sweater.

"Okay." She whispered, devoid of emotion.

That's it, I thought to myself, you've fucked it up for good.

She peeked at my frame—a split second—, uninterested, almost as if I was a nuisance. Her arms unfolded and one of them reached out for the hem of my jacket.

A tug.

Come here.

I did. I followed her lead, one step, two steps, three. Close, closer, until I stood right in front of her. She hadn't moved and didn't plan on doing so either.

When she looked up, I barely saw anything other than annoyance, frustration, and deep exhaustion. Or maybe I did see something—a spark crackling behind her blown pupils.

Her lips parted, but she had no time to say a word before the building shook. We both jolted at the same time, not quite letting go; not staying in the moment either, ripped away by the blast of the mortar that had gone off somewhere above us. The thin dust coming off the ceiling peppered our heads in shades of grey.

By the time my attention returned to Y/n, she was still focused on the possible damage inflicted in the structure, brows furrowed, mouth still slightly open, her chin tilted up. Even half gone, she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

I moved before I thought it through; before she looked back at me. My lips pulled a sucked-in gasp from hers, her crown nearly bumping again the door due to the abruptness of the kiss.

The kiss. It dawned on her at the same time as it dawned on me. Merely two seconds into it, her palm pushed steady at my chest.

Move away. And I did, just a step back, just enough to see whatever pulled at her visage. Not good. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Shit— I'm sorry, I-"

She brought me back in, a hand on the back of my neck and the other holding onto my arm to keep me there —to anchor me when her lips pressed against mine again, hot, slow, frustrated. My hands glued to her sides on instinct, up, down, hasty, sliding under her sweater when she angled herself better to trap my lower lip between her teeth.

Every second of it felt like it'd kill me if it ended; like she was breathing life into me everytime she exhaled. My head, for once, had quieted down, and the only thing I felt was her. Our lips. The rustle of our uniforms.

Footsteps.

Footsteps coming down the stairs, heavy and careless.

We broke apart like we'd been hit. Gasping, frantic, our mouths raw and our hearts sprinting. She looked down, at the same time as I wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand, like that would somehow erase what just happened.

She was smart enough to move a step to the side right before Malarkey pushed the door open, sporting an uncharacteristic scowl.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" He scolded me, paying little attention to his shaken friend, standing by the entrance with folded arms. "You can't just run off mid-queue."

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Not because I didn’t have an excuse, but because everything in my chest felt like it was still pressed up against her.

Malarkey didn't wait for an answer. Probably didn't want one in the first place. "Get your ass back in line and take the damn shower. Stop makin' shit harder than it already is."

At my lack of words, I nodded, running a hand through my locks as I stepped out of the basement. Malarkey told Y/n something about talking to Speirs, about the showers, about whatever the fuck he was talking about. I didn't really catch it with the way my heartbeat thumped in my ears.

The ginger exited the basement too and I followed him up the stairs like a goddamn ghost, leaving everything that almost happened behind that door—along with the only thing that'd made me feel human in months.

122 notes · View notes

dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 2 months ago

Text

Hey, I was possessed with the need to write this interaction but with no story to tie it to, so now here's this. Takes place post canon.

While sailing with his brother over the last nine months had been everything they'd needed and more, Ford was willing to admit it was good to be back in Gravity Falls. The time with his brother had healed some deep ache inside his chest, but knowing hed soon beseeing his grand niece and nephew, along with all the residents and old friends he'd left behind, was a similar balm.

What wasn't a balm was the monstrosity built behind what had once been his house.

Since Soos had moved into the shack with his girlfriend and grandmother, the Pines were now technically homeless. Soos had been very willing to move back to his old house, but Stan had simply said he'd 'handled' it and not to worry. Ford had been very worried, but he was trying to learn how to trust his brother again, and had simply left him to it.

This proved to be a mistake, as now there was a second, terrible house now built behind the first. It was further in the woods so as to be outside the idle view of visiting tourists, bit still close enough to be considered in its back yard.

Ford stared at it, feeling some kind of emotion as Stan burst through the front door and starting hauling in their luggage. Everything on the ground and second floor was made of a sturdy dark wood, with a green front door and circular windows. If he kept looking at just that, he could almost pretend it was a normal house.

Unfortunately he couldn't, and his gaze moved to the third floor that had been built with what looked like purple wood and colorful stained glass windows depicting several familiar images, had a balcony, a slide, and what could be an observatory, topped with a multicolored rainbow roof. The whole house was built around a giant pine tree, with its large branches casting shade across the entire structure. There was no way to know what the inside looked line without looking, but he was to enraptured with the strange upper floors and the fact that the more he looked, the more he noticed the strangeness carried over to the bottom floors as well.

There were small wards carved around the doorways and windows, one of the second floor windows was suspiciously hinged, as if built to be jumped out of dramatically, and if he leaned to the side he could see what looked like a large porch wrapping around the back with built in seating, a swing, several cannond, and a giant slingshot.

Too many windows were vaguely pig shaped to mistake who helped design the whole thing.

"Stanley," he called, grabbing the suitcase at his feet and dragging it inside, "what is this."

"What's it look like Six!" Stan called out from deeper in the house, "It's our new digs!"

"Let me clarify," Ford followed the sound of his brothers rummaging to find him in what had to be the living room, leaning back in cozy looking couch holding a soda, "why do we have another house, why does it look like this, and where did you get the funds for it, because I know our findings weren't enough to cover a project this large."

"Soos is still taking up space in the shack with his lady friend, so we needed someplace to stay," Stan said, wiggling deeper into the couch, "I asked Mabel to help design it with Dipper. Told her to go wild, because-"

"I GAVE YOUR EVIL CLONE A MILLION DOLLARS!" Fiddleford screamed into Fords ear, cackling as Ford shouted and jumped away, then scuttling over the the couch to climb onto the back and sit hunched over.

"What he said," Stan said with a smirk, sipping his soda as Ford rubbed his ear and scowled.

"Fiddleford, always good to see you. Why are you giving my brother a million dollars."

"Hey, he didn't give it to me, he paid me. I'm doing him an expensive service here."

"Really?" Ford raised an eyebrow, then turned towards Fiddleford with a questioning tilt of his head, "what on earth are you paying Stanley a million dollars for?"

"Hey," Stan said, eyes darting around suspiciously as Fords narrowed, "we don't need to worry about the details, just-"

"He done did tell me he'd stop swerving to hit me with his car if I have him a million greeneronies!" Fiddleford cackled, then leaned in and held up a hand and pointed at Stan behind it, like he was sharing a secret.

"Poor fool don't get that i got one over on 'em!"

"I see." Ford put his hands behind his back as he watched his brother start to sweat and Fiddleford chuckled to himself, "and why is that something you need to pay Stan for?"

"Ain't it obvious?" Fiddleford gave him a pitying look, like he was the strange one here, "Stan here has the car, I need to pay him to get him to stop."

"Sounds like good reasoning to me!" Stan yelled, hunching further into the couch and avoiding eye contact, "I hit man, man pays me not to keep doing that. Let's continue on with out lives."

"No, I think I'm a bit stuck on the fact you've been hitting my friend with your car. On purpose it sounds like."

"Hey!" Stan sat up, outraged, "don't make it sound like I was the only one doing it! Lots of people hit McGucket with their cars! He ran out in the road all the time!"

"Its true Stanford, I wasn't in the best place for a while," Fiddleford sighed, then grabbed his hat and clutched it to his chest, "I'd just wander around all willy-nilly, and good all Stan here was the only one who'd remind me to always be aware of traffic. Never know when a car will smash through a guard rail, destroy some fencing, then try to slam into you as the driver yells 'fifty McGucket points!' Or somethin' out the window."

Ford had never seen his brother rehunch and look away so fast.

#the idea of fiddleford paying Stan #to not hit him with his car #seemed very funny to me #gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #fiddleford mcgucket

108 notes · View notes

niniane17 · 5 months ago

Text

I realize that anti Got Season 8 posting in late 2024 is a bit boomerish, but screw that it's my blog and there's no law stating that I can't post about That Series again.

I've stumbled across an old anti-Daenerys post written by a Sansa fan some months after the show ended and...oh my God. I had nearly forgotten just how batshit crazy those takes are.

Dany is a colonialist. Dany is a white supremacist. If you like her you are both. Martin is just pretending to write her as a hero, in the end he will reveal she was evil all along and freeing slaves was a secret code for enslaving people. Valyria is evil and the Targaryens are evil. Westeros is simultaneously the ancient Americas and Medieval Europe. Essos is Europe but also the Oppressed Middle East.

Sansa is the true anti colonialist hero. Sansa is the true opprossed woman. If you don't support her you are an oppressor and possibly a rapist yourself. The North is good and the Starks are good. When Arya sails West of Westeros sporting the North's banner, she is not partaking in colonialism, in fact, she will be the anti Christopher Columbus. How do we know that? Because she's a Stark, the Starks are good...

It's maddening. No wonder Daenerys fans are driven into a frenzy. It's not irrationality, it's just natural frustration at constantly being held to double standards and fighting some crazy takes.

Now, treating a fantasy tv show fandom as anti-colonial activism is bad enough, but it's clear to me that at least some of these takes are motivated by the fact they see Sansa as the underdog, mistreated by both the characters and sometimes even the narrative.

And here's where things get weird.

I've said many times that I didn't become a full Dany fan until she was heavily mistreated by the narrative, and I'm definitely not alone in this. Back in the day, many people who previously didn't care one bit for Daenerys suddenly ended up defending her or even stanning her.

Like, of course if somebody wants to root for the underdog, the first thing to do is rooting for the actual underdog. Season 8's underdog was Daenerys. Everyone and everything was deadly set against her from the moment she arrived in Winterfell. They constantly disrespected her, undercut her efforts, killed off or villainized her allies, snobbed her non-traditional upbringing, conspired behind her back. And all the while they always asked asked asked for more, nothing she was giving was enough.

In contrast, the Starks' and the North's actions were constantly justified or presented as good, even betrayal (which is a very huge deal in Westeros) or, in one instance, outright racism by the Northern people -this time fully intended by the production, rather than an unintentional outcome of some poor behind-the-scene choices.

At the end, Season 8's Starks were absolute gods who could do no wrong and were always in the right no matter what they did -except their bastard son, who was contaminated by the evil people's blood and has to symbolically kill that part of himself forever.

Well, guess what, people didn't like that. But the newfound Dany fans were perfectly consistent: they wanted the underdog to win, to overcome her hurdles, internal or external, and be happy at the end. If the underdog is Dany, well, then it's time for Dany to win.

It's Sansa stans that see everything in terms of How This Affects My Fave and are willing to bend over the narrative to get what they want. They are perfectly happy with a biased narrative and double standards, they just want it to be biased towards Sansa, and everything is fair game to them, including real life politics and vocabulary, with some hilarious results. For example: Sansa as the voice of the Oppressed Minorities is...a take, to say the least. Her world doesn't even have a prejudice against red hair, as it would have in real life.

And guess what else, this kind of Protagonist-Centered Morality is very similar to the one used by real life colonizers, especially in their "explorations". Not that it matters because this isn't a post-colonial story and it never will be. It's a story about a messed up Fantasy Medieval/Early Renassaince World with Dragons, heavily influenced by various periods of European history. The only vaguely post-colonial element are maybe the zombies-as-slaves metaphor, and I think it's more due to the fact that Martin was probably inspired by old horror Movies pre-dating the Romero ones. And who is liberating slaves in his story, again?

Anyway. 2019-2020 was a really weird time to be a Dany fan, and in hindsight it was crazy how much shit there was around a fantasy series with dragons. Surely five years later people are a little more normal, right? Right?

#asoiaf #anti got #daenerys targaryen #daenerys defense squad #anti sansa stans #sometimes I just think about daenerys and feel like crying #hey bertha mason is another fave and she first appeared in 1849

125 notes · View notes

sasageyoarmin · 4 months ago

Text

"wait a minute, are you jealous?"

---

hi favs!! pretend im not posting this like super late but college is literally kicking my booty rn and im trying my best to get this request out

this prompt from this list was requested by @decayedbong like a while ago so this is wayyyy overdue but here u go my love <33333

warnings: suggestive content at the end, martial jealousy, slight possessiveness

wc: 2.5k

“Armin, could you help me for a minute with this necklace? I can’t seem to get it on myself.” Armin finished adjusting his tie and turned toward the direction of his wife’s call. He knocked gently on the bathroom door, stepping into the room after hearing her response.

Armin let out a breath of disbelief and awe at the sight of his wife in front of him, dressed in a deep red satin dress that reached down to her ankles. The fabric hugged her curves in the most beautiful way, highlighting the dips in her hips and the contour of her chest. “God, babe, you look gorgeous.” He gazed down at his wife, rubbing the stubble of his chin with his hand as his eyes trailed over her body.

She blushed at his response to her outfit, making a mental note to bring the dress out for another occasion if he was going to act this way towards it. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she smiled, walking towards him to flip down the collar of the red button-up that matched her dress, a sharp contrast to the black blazer and slacks he was wearing. She stood on her toes, reaching for his jaw to give her husband a quick kiss before turning around so he could place the diamond necklace on her.

“Mmm, I love this necklace.” Armin fastened the gold clasps as he placed a kiss on the back of her neck, urging her to spin around so he could see the full picture.

She turned around, giving him a slight curtsy as her eyes met his, which slowly became darker with need as he continued to gaze at his lover. “Well thank God, it would have been a waste of your money if you hated it.” She giggled, letting out a ‘thank you’ in appreciation of the gift she had received on her birthday just a few months ago. She glanced at her phone, checking the time. “We only have a few more minutes before we need to leave, can you make sure everything is in my bag? I’m just going to put my heels on.”

Armin let out a nod, leaving the bathroom to check the items in her clutch purse.

---

It had only been an hour since they got to the party, but Armin had already had enough. What was supposed to be a simple gathering of Armin’s work friends had slowly turned into an event where every single person gawked at his wife. She was well-dressed, obviously, as noted by the other women at the party, both those who worked at the law firm and those who accompanied their husbands like his own wife did. It wasn’t the women who annoyed him though, it was those who he thought were buddies of his, male coworkers who would even look away from their own wives to stare at the woman in the red satin dress who sat at the bar next to Armin, sipping on a Malibu Bay Breeze with dark red painted lips.

Armin wasn’t the type to get jealous -- he knew his wife better than that to know that she would never cheat on him, even when given the opportunity to. However, he still felt possessive when other men would take a look at her, maybe since he didn't always feel worthy enough to have her, regardless of the number of times that she proved otherwise.

He needed a moment to clear his head.

“Babe,” he started, his hand trailing on the back of her dress as he stood up from the barstool. “I’m going to run to the bathroom, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She nodded an okay, pressing a kiss to his lips as she let him leave, continuing her conversation with his coworkers nearby.

After a few minutes, Armin felt like he had convinced himself enough to not be jealous of his wife, feeling stupid for acting in such a way, even if it was only in his head. He stepped back out into the bar area, catching his wife chatting with one of the younger interns at the company.

The jealousy immediately came right back.

Armin glared at the man next to his wife who was so obviously glaring at her chest, even though she was paying no attention to it. He watched from afar as the man talked to the bartender, ordering her a drink despite the half-full glass in her hand. She leaned towards him, laughing at something stupid that he must have said, probably a joke about finances or work or something boring that she could care less about. Regardless, she looked beautiful next to the half-wit of a man, and the sight was making him more and more upset by the second.

Once he saw the man put a hand on her thigh, even just for a moment, he knew that it was enough. Armin didn’t even see his wife retaliate or look disgusted at all, which added to his frustration. She wasn’t the best at picking up signals from men trying to flirt with her, given that Armin had always been so direct towards her, yet she didn’t even appear to look uncomfortable at all.

“Hey,” Armin said in a stern voice towards the man, turning his back towards him slightly as he stared into the eyes of his wife. “What’s going on here? Hmm?” He asked, trying not to seem like a total douche for asking his wife a simple question.

“Oh, nothing,” she responded while smiling up at her husband, obviously having no idea how he was feeling about the situation. Once her gaze focused on his tight lips and furrowed brows, she knew something was wrong, yet she brushed it off for a moment. “Mark here is just telling me a story about a funny client of his.”

A fake laugh came from Armin’s mouth at the excuse used by his wife. He knew that this guy - Mark - was just a new intern, not an employee who could take clients in the slightest. He was practically a coffee boy who fetched random things for Armin’s coworkers when they needed him. There wasn’t even a reason for him to be at the party.

“Oh, I see.” Armin faked a smile towards him, which she could tell wasn’t real, and she furrowed her brows in confusion. “Mark bought you a drink, too, didn’t he?” Armin knew that he was being annoying on purpose, yet there was no reason for Mark to buy his wife a drink, especially when he knew that her husband was just steps away.

“Oh! Yeah, wasn’t that nice of him?” She said, looking up at Armin with a smile. He gave a fake one back and responded with a stern ‘yes’, immediately feeling a pang of guilt since she seemed to be oblivious about the entire situation. Still, he was upset, and he wanted to get his wife away from the man and the party in general.

“Well, Mark, I think we may be heading out in a few minutes. I’m not feeling very well and we have quite the eager dog to feed back at home.” Armin subtly reminded Mark of the life that he and his wife had at home, trying to get him to back off of her.

“Really?” She asked, not wanting to push Armin to stay if he truly wasn’t feeling well yet not really wanting to leave either. “If you’re not feeling well though, we should head out.” She gave Armin a soft smile, still oblivious that Mark was hitting on her. “It was nice meeting you, Mark!” She said, taking the last sip of her drink and hopping off of the barstool.

“It was lovely meeting you,” Mark replied, exaggerating the word. “I could get your number so we could talk more often?” He asked, even though it was more of a demand than a question.

She finally caught on. “Oh. Umm, I don’t know.” She stuttered out a reply, realizing that Mark had been hitting on her. She felt a slight pang of sadness at the thought of losing yet another possible friend to flirtation tactics.

“She doesn’t want your number.” Armin glared at the man, giving him a fake smile for the final time that night. “She’s coming home with me tonight.” Mark caught on to Armin’s jealousy, laughing once he realized what was going on. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded like ‘pathetic’ and stood up from the stool, banging his class on the table.

After saying their goodbyes and having the last bits of food, the couple headed outside to continue their discussion, the tension hanging high in the air. They stood just outside of the restaurant under a pavilion as the wind blew around them, causing goosebumps to form on their skin.

“I should have brought a jacket.” Armin’s wife voiced aloud, not meaning it to say anything other than a critique toward herself. Armin thought about not handing her his blazer but decided that he would rather have an upset wife who’s a comfortable temperature versus an upset wife who’s cold. She took the jacket from his arms instead of letting him put it on her like he normally would.

“I’m surprised you’re even giving me a jacket.” She scoffed, retorting at his actions.

“What?”

“Don’t act like I can’t see right through you, Armin. I don’t know why you’re mad at me, but obviously something I did pissed you off.” The woman glared up at her husband, looking away with a scoff when he glared right back at her.

“You’re oblivious,” Armin said, letting his jealousy get the worst of him. He would surely regret saying that, but at the moment, it felt good.

“Excuse me?”

Armin cursed slightly, realizing the weight of what he said. “I didn’t really mean that.”

“Okay?” She replied, not taking him seriously. “What did you mean, then?” Her voice had an angry tone to it now that she realized Armin was annoyed at her for seemingly no reason. In her mind, nothing she had done was wrong, it was just a night out with Armin’s work friends.

“I just- I don’t know how you didn’t realize that Mark was hitting on you.”

“Wait a minute, are you jealous?” She asked, realizing what this whole issue was about. “Armin, Mark was like years younger than me. What makes you think I was interested in him?”

“I don’t know!” Armin responded with a sharp tone, his words loud. “You were leaning into him and laughing. He bought you a drink! How did you not know?”

“I’m sorry?” She didn’t feel bad at all, instead, she was wondering why her husband was so upset about this issue when it seemed like nothing to her. “I was just trying to have a conversation with someone who I thought was a friend of yours. Why is that so wrong?”

“It’s not-” Armin cut himself off, trying to lower his voice to not amplify the situation. “It’s not inherently wrong. If he wasn’t staring at your boobs or anything or asking for your number.” He retorted back.

“That’s not my fault and you know it.” She responded, glaring up at him again before scoffing. “You can’t get mad at me for that.”

The weight of her words finally caught up to Armin and he let out a curse at his realization. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry about that.” His hand touched her arm as she let him step forward, trying to apologize to his wife. “It’s not on you, baby, I’m sorry.”

“You mean it?” She said, still slightly annoyed at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I mean it.” He said, reaching around to hug her, trying to make up for his wrongdoing. “I just let jealousy get in the way of us, and I never want to do that to you, that’s not fair.”

“Well, I’m glad you acknowledged it.” She let out a smile, breaking away from the hug to look up at him again, this time with softer eyes. “Thank you for apologizing, baby. Do you want to talk about what made you jealous? It might help to clear your mind.”

He nodded, leading his wife back to the car so they could talk about it in a safer space. “Honestly, I just didn’t like the way he was acting towards you. He kept touching you and staring at your chest, and he basically lied to you about having clients.”

“Wait, what?” She asked about the last part, not realizing that the story he made up was fake.

“He’s an intern,” Armin explained, telling his wife about all of the duties that he did, none of which involved talking to clients. “Even if his story was true though, I didn’t like the way that he was looking at you at all. It was like you were just a body to him, and you’re so much more than that, baby.”

“Well, thank you for looking out for me, even if I got pissed about it.” She responded, smiling up at him after getting settled in the car.

“That’s not on you though, I get why you were annoyed. You had every right to be.” He took hold of her wrist, running his thumb over the smooth skin of her hand. “I wasn’t in my right mind, and I didn’t like that he looked at you like that.”

“I know, Armin, but it’s over now. Talk to your boss or something about it later, but for now just try not to think about it.” She rested her head against the car headrest, feeling tired from the night. “Plus, I would only ever let you look at me that way, you know that.” She lifted her hand to his neck, rubbing the hair on the back of his head.

He nodded, rubbing his hand on her clothed thigh, expressing his silent devotion towards her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She repeated the phrase, kissing him as she continued to touch the strands of hair on his neck.

---

The couple entered their quiet house, hands intertwined as Armin’s wife placed her clutch bag down on the foyer table, making sure to lock the door behind her. The story Armin had said about their dog earlier was fake, as he was already fed and fast asleep in his bed, too tired to even bark at the pair when they came in through the door.

Armin knelt down to help take his wife’s heels off, carefully unbuckling the straps and leaving them neatly by the door after taking his own shoes off. He placed his hands around her face, cupping her jaw as he bent down to kiss her, their lips moving in harmony together.

His wife put her arms once more around his neck, letting Armin pick her up to carry her to the bedroom. “Do you really want this, babe?” He asked, breaking apart the kiss for a moment to speak. She responded with a simple ‘yes’ before kissing him again and letting him place her on the bed. He continued passionately kissing his lover, letting her breathe soft moans into his mouth as hiked her dress up, placing his knee between her thighs to help with the friction of the moment.

“Let me show you that I’m the only person who gets to see you like this, mhm? Just me.”

ok the ending of this was really abrupt bc i didn't feel like making this a whole smut thing at the end so lmk if you want a part 2 :)

bye my lovesssss

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #lawyer!armin series #lawyer!armin #aot armin #armin x y/n

89 notes · View notes

warcats-cat · 5 days ago

Text

Confinement

Summary: In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses, but then humans went off and invented cars. Awful... Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

A/N: I'M ALIVE I SWEAR!!! I'm still writing for Hermes and this fandom!!! I love you all and I've MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! TLDR - I was in a car accident right after my birthday at the beginning of April, and while I wasn't badly injured, I've been mentally all over the place since then. Recovery-Scatter-Brain and Stress-Scatter-Brain are real... ANYWAY the irony is that I have had this one written for like forever and I was gearing up to post it right before I had my accident. So I guess Hermes was just trying to warn me in his own loving, mysterious, mischievous way. Also I linked to a song within the fic; it is one of my favorites to sing and one I sang as a part of my Senior Recital when I graduated university; if you take the time to listen I really do hope you enjoy it! (ALSO also, because of this, the reader does refer to themself as 'female' but only in the context of the song!) I hope you guys enjoy this one and hopefully I will have another edited/polished and posted for you before the two month mark... as always please let me know if I've missed any tags and have a truly lovely day, darlings!!!

Read on Ao3 Here!

-----

In Hermes’ incredibly correct and not at all humble opinion, humans should have stuck with horses.

Really, it was the altogether better option, compared to other modes of transportation, although he'd never tell his uncle that. Especially now, in the ‘modern era’ as humans called it, when things like capitalism and pollution and climate change hung over humans’ heads like a guillotine.

Horses didn't need oil from hundreds of cubits underground; they could just graze the grasses around where they were. Horses still went pretty fast over land compared to walking. Horses didn't stink like death-plastic-smoke that was worse than Tartarus.

But humans had gone and invented cars.

Awful.

Sure, cars went fast. Not nearly as fast as him, but Hermes was the god of speed; nothing went as fast as him. Cars could go a lot faster than horses, and in America, where the land was so massive and everything spread out so far, Hermes supposed it was nice to get to the grocer as quickly as possible.

But cars were also considerably small.

Therein lay the problem.

He wasn't necessarily claustrophobic, but Hermes didn't like small spaces. He didn't like feeling trapped. And cars did exactly that - with heavy metal doors that slammed and locked like prison cells, rough, scraping straps that pinned one in place (for safety, of course, which he couldn't begrudge; but he didn't have to like it), uncomfortable seats that pretended to be the ‘luxury’ of real leather even though he could smell the oily plastic layered in to make it cheaper.

And the windows only made things worse somehow - opening them made the winds beat the inside of the car and the unfortunate rider’s ears, easily causing hearing damage with the constant concussion. He’d tried pushing his head out, once; curious at seeing some teens in a car ahead of them do so, but the same beating effect applied; making his eyes sting and his ears ring from the force of it.

He didn't even have that problem when he was flying.

Hermes loved you; he really did. He adored you. But he loathed your car.

“I could get us to the craft store a lot faster,” he said to you, the barest hint of a whine in his voice. If he played it just right, with a little pout and a little whine, maybe he could change your mind.

“You would have to carry me, not to mention anything we bought, and I don't want to lose my supplies in your bag-of-holding.” You replied, not even looking at his big, slightly watery puppy-eyes.

No luck…

He sighed, and let his face drop back to normal. At least he understood the reference you made this time - you’d called his messenger bag a bag-of-holding a few times before he asked about it; it was a bag, it was supposed to hold stuff? But you were referring to a game you liked to play on nights he was away; a special bag that could hold almost anything a person put inside it, and was nearly endless. He’d had to admit after that that it was a fair nickname.

And it wasn't necessarily that things got lost in his bag; he could call up any paper or item that was in it by just thinking about it. It was that he could conveniently forget to grab some things back out. Or slip things in to hide them for later.

He was the god of thieves and master of tricks. Sue him.

He stared down the door handle of your car as if he could make it cower like a mortal he disliked. You slipped easily into the driver's seat and grinned at him; the cute, slightly devilish grin that he loved so much. Damn.

Hermes grumbled a Greek swear and submitted himself to the confinement.

Thankfully, you weren't an overly cautious driver going 10 under the speed limit.

The drive would take approximately 20 minutes; 18 if you pushed the speed limit a little and 16 if you managed to pass through the traffic lights without them turning red. Ugh. Traffic lights.

When horses had to cross a road, they could just go across. You didn't have to worry about being catastrophically slammed into from the side because horses had brains. …most of the time…

Hermes clicked the seatbelt into place. His feathers ruffled as he shuddered, but he felt your hand slip into his and squeeze in sympathy, and that made it a little better. The car rumbled under his feet like an angry animal as it started, and you began the drive, switching on the radio as it connected to the phone in your pocket.

Frankly, there was only one reason Hermes tolerated car rides at all.

“When I was a girl, I had a favorite story...”

Every time, he got to hear you sing.

“Of the meadowlark who lives where the rivers wind…”

In Hermes' very correct and not so humble opinion, you had the most beautiful voice. And he bragged to Apollo about you all the time, how he had found you and won your heart before the sun god even heard a single note. Hermes loved listening to you sing - singing along to movies you watched, singing quietly while you worked on a project, and yes, even singing in the car.

Car singing was the second-best singing, only because you weren't afraid to be loud . Your voice filled the little space with warmth, wrapped around Hermes like a safety blanket. If you had to stop at a traffic light, you liked to wiggle in your seat like a little dance. It felt like a secret, shared only between the two of you; the little moments he tucked away in his memory like shining jewels.

And you sang everything - regardless of the original musician’s gender. Musical Theater tended to be your favorite, but your phone shuffled through rock songs and pop songs and a few electronic melodies; indy and songs about video games and even (very rarely) a country song you said you kept because it was silly. Hamilton, and SpongeBob; Wicked, and Phantom of the Opera. Lately, you’d been fixating a bit on some songs from Next to Normal that made you tear up as you sang, and Hermes would reach over and pat your shoulder or take your hand, knowing that the music meant more to you than he could really understand. Songs full of stories that you knew by heart and told to yourself (and him) over and over again.

It felt extra special, sometimes; knowing that you were comfortable enough to sing with him around. Apollo had asked, several times now, but you had stammered and said you hadn't done any warm-ups and didn't know what he would like; maybe some other time. You’d confided in Hermes after the third time; for anyone else, it felt like a high stakes audition, especially for the ‘literal god of music’ as you had said. But Hermes made you feel comfortable, like you were singing with him, even though most of the time he wasn't actually singing; he joined in subtler ways. His head bobbed and swayed along to your music, and occasionally his wings ruffled and flapped for a particularly high or long or powerful note, and he savored every single second of it.

And then all too soon the show was cut short, as you slowed to a stop in the little store's parking lot, and Hermes became aware once again of the sensation of being trapped.

He all but ripped the seat belt apart - he actually had ripped the seat belt the first time, which you had been very upset about. He hadn't meant to, and thankfully you understood after an explanation (and when he offered to pay to fix the car - a full “work up” as you said. He’d kinda shrugged it off; money was a mortal thing.)

This time, he was out of the car before the belt had the chance to fully retract back into its hiding place, hopping a little from foot to foot to shake the phantom feelings of chains. You gave him a look of apology, and offered a hug, which he graciously accepted.

Finally, after a minute to fix his sunglasses and steal your hand for holding, the pair of you headed inside the craft store.

And if he slipped a few things that you seemed to like into his bag when you put them back down upon seeing the prices, well. That was his own little secret. He just couldn't resist the way your eyes glittered when he gave you presents.

You didn't need to know where they came from…

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!!)

#warcats writes #hermes x reader #hermes epic the musical #epic hermes #reader insert #gender neutral reader #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #ask to tag #another one i have no idea what to tag #driving #implied claustrophobia #claustrophobia #cars #Hermes' POV

51 notes · View notes

dustmusings · 10 months ago

Text

let me take care of you

Rex x F!Reader

word count: 5.7k

description: you have been suffering from depression for a few months and have shut yourself off from the world. a few weeks after getting laid off from your job, you get an unexpected knock at the door.

warnings: i'm gonna say this is 16+ just to be safe, heavily implied sex, depiction of depression, suicidal ideation, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining - let me know what I've missed !

a/n: okay so this is sooooo self-indulgent it's actually embarassing. I wrote the first bit of this when I was truly going through it and... yeah, it's just Rex taking care of the reader hehe, with a bit of suggestive stuff but not proper smut. if that's your kinda thing, I hope you enjoy! (also this is the first oneshot that I've actually posted so gimme constructive criticism pls !!)

Everything felt foggy.

For the past months, your life had felt like you were just going through the motions. Wake up, go to work, come home, struggle to sleep, and repeat. You didn't enjoy the things you used to anymore. It had been too long since you had taken a walk in the park, since you had sketched or written, and it hurt that you couldn't seem to even try and do them. Like there was an invisible force stopping you, and yet, there wasn't. It was just your own mind, lacking in whatever hormone would make you happy.

You couldn't find it in yourself to take care of yourself properly, and ever since being laid off from your job a few weeks ago, you had gone into the worst of it. You weren't eating properly, you couldn't sleep, sometimes staying up all night even though you would lay in your bed and just pray for it to be different. You hadn't seen your friends in months, though they would try and check in on you. You always told them you were busy, but you knew they knew what was going on. You had been like this before, though this time it was worse.

You shut yourself off from the world.

You hadn't been out of your apartment at all in days when you heard the knock. You made your way to your front door, and your breath hitched when you peered through the little hole and saw who was behind it.

Rex.

The clone stood in the hallway, his helmet at his hip, looking down the hall, and handsome as ever. There was no way you were letting him in while you were in this state. You hadn't brushed your hair in maker knows how long, you hadn't showered in… maybe a week? and the last time you had brushed your teeth was probably 2 days ago. Your personal hygiene was sorely lacking.

You watched the Captain through the door, your breath fogging up the glass, and jumped back when the knocking of the door reverberated around your small apartment.

What is he doing here?

You hadn't seen Rex since you lost your job, though he was among the few people who checked in with you regularly, trying to ask about how you were or convince you to come out of the house. Your stomach churned at the idea of people fussing about you, and now one of them was standing outside your door. A particular one of them that, in any given other state, you would be dying to see.

Your deep attraction and affection for Rex only made this situation more uncomfortable for you, the thought of answering the door making you feel physically sick.

You then heard your name called from behind the door in a deep, questioning voice, and your knees went weak.

“Are you in there?” He asked, followed by another knock.

You wanted to reply, to say anything, but you couldn't find your voice. What would I say? You elected to just go back to your bed, let him leave on his own, and pretend he was never here.

You scooted backwards but caught your hip on a table, sending a pile of your precious books hurtling to the floor. You held your breath, hoping Rex had not heard the noise, but it was no use.

Rex called your name again, and this time, it was gentler, “…Please let me in”

Your eyes watered as you walked up to the door, your finger hovering over the button that would cause it to slide open.

“I'm fine Rex, you can go” You tried to sound as resolute as you could, but the quiver in your voice was obvious.

“Cyare… let me in. I'm not leaving”

The nickname hit you hard, and you truly felt like clutching your chest as it pulled at the part of you that desired the clone on the other side of the door like no other.

You had met Rex years ago, at the job you had recently been let go from, working as a civilian medic on Coruscant.

The Captain could rarely be convinced by his brothers to take himself to the medbay, much more of the suffer in silence type. However, once you had begun working there, he had started making trips there for every little bump and scratch, and sometimes even when he was in perfect health, he would go claiming a cold or headache. He had always had a soft spot for you, and though he'd never admit it, he made it obvious. Everyone around him knew, everyone around you knew, but for whatever reason, you hadn't cottoned on at all.

He found you exceedingly beautiful, obviously intelligent, and just the most wonderful and bright spark of a person he'd ever met. Though, that was far from what you were feeling like at the moment.

You had also been enamoured by the Captain from the very start. The moment he walked into the medbay and made eye contact with you, you were done for. Whether it was his loyalty to his men, his commanding presence, or his wonderful smile that did it, you didn't know, but you were kriffed from the beginning.

“I can't let you in” You said, leaning your forehead into the door.

“Why not?” He said in a hushed tone that you could barely hear.

“I- I'm just not feeling well okay?” You choked out, vastly minimising the issue.

“I dont mind Cyare, just let me in. Please” He begged, but you just shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

You and Rex had grown into good friends quite naturally. In his needless visits to the med bay, he would often stay after hours and help you clean up, and you would fall into conversation about anything and everything. You shared many opinions about a variety of topics and would talk about your respective favourite things. Rex found that he learned a great deal about the wider galaxy from you, and he could hear you talk about art for hours upon end.

You were a fantastic artist, absolutely brilliant in any media, but Rex loved your sketches the most. You had brought him to your apartment once after work, when he had practically begged to see your work. He liked the simplicity of it, creating life with just a few stokes of a pencil. Your drawings held such character, such joy, such sorrow, and Rex thought that they were always so uniquely you. For that, he loved them.

“Rex I-” You didn't know what to say. You sank to your knees on the floor, letting your tears silently fall down your cheeks.

“Please…” He said one more time, and you finally broke.

You reached up and pressed the button, and the door zipped open to reveal your defeated posture to him. You dared not look up at him. You didn't want him to see you like this at all, but the thought of looking him in the eye when you knew how dishevelled, how weak you looked, you couldn't stomach it.

“Oh Cyare” He said softly and closed the door behind him, sinking to his knees in front of you. He tentatively placed a hand on your knee and began rubbing his thumb back and forth. “What's happened? You haven't been in the medbay for weeks”

“I was laid off” You replied quietly.

“What? Why would they do that?” He asked, genuinely confused. You were a talented medic. He could see no reason for it.

“Money is tight. We are at war after all” You chuckled a little bit, knowing that much was obvious to Rex.

“What are you upset about? I'm sure there's somewhere else that would take you, you're a great medic” He asked so innocently that you could almost laugh.

“It's not about that…” You sighed, running a hand over your face, still looking down.

“What is it about?” Rex said softly, shuffling forwards so his armoured knees touched your bare ones.

“I just… I can't do it anymore Rex” You whispered, the first time you had freely admitted it to anyone before.

Rex tensed up. He brought his other hand up and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head to look at you properly. The look in your eyes already told him the answer to the question he was about to ask, “Can't do what?”

“It. Life. Anything. I just want to disappear” You said, choking on your tears and overwhelmed by the thoughts that weighed you down. Rex's amber irises burned into yours with such an intensity, but not for long, as his arms made their way around your body, and he pulled you into his lap.

You cried into his chest, with him stroking your hair and holding you close to him with the other arm, scared that you would somehow get your wish and disappear in his arms.

He was at a loss for words. He couldn't understand how someone he thought was so wonderful and incredible could be harbouring such hateful feelings about themself. He feared saying anything that would upset you, and the last thing he wished to do was deny how you were feeling by telling you that you were wrong, so he just held you in his arms, silently letting you know he was there for you, no matter what. The sound of your crying was making his heart break, but he stayed like that until it died down.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked tentatively, drawing back and holding your jaw so he could see your face.

“I dont know… four or five months, maybe?” You replied, and it felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.

How had he not noticed anything was wrong? He felt like he had failed you, that your friendship was for nought if he couldn't even tell when you were upset. He didn't place any of the blame on you, but he had to ask…

“Why didn't you tell me?”

You sighed, “I didn't want to concern you with it. It's for me to deal with”

“What? It's not just for you to deal with, of course I'd want to know if you're not okay. I'm so sorry I didn't notice” He said, his tone so heavy with guilt.

“It's okay, it makes sense that you didn't”

Rex almost took offence to the comment, but the small smile on your lips didn't evade him, “Why does it make sense?”

“Uh, I guess I was always happy around you” You admit, “You- Uh we’re good friends, you know? I like spending time with you”

Despite the comment about being friends, Rex's heart soared, “I like spending time with you too Cyare”

“Why are you calling me that all of a sudden?” You asked. You knew what it meant, you'd spent enough time among the clones, and it was impossible to escape when you overheard their unabashed flirting on your few trips to 79s.

“Um” Rex gulped, not feeling like right now was the best time to admit that he was wildly in love with you, “I don't know, I care about you, you know? Like you said, we're good friends”

You nodded, seeming satisfied with the explanation, and Rex breathed out a shaky breath.

“I'm sorry you had to see me like this” You looked down, playing with your fingers as heat rose to your cheeks.

“It's fine, I really don't mind. Besides, you still look good to me” He said, and your eyes snapped back up to his instantly, your breath becoming short. Rex thinks I look good?

“Thanks Captain” You grinned shyly, your face feeling positively on fire at the compliment.

“It's no problem” He smiled, then he became more serious, “Have you eaten today?”

“Uh- no” You looked away again, feeling ashamed.

“Alright, let me fix you some food then” He readjusted his hold on you and picked you up, setting you down on your couch. Your head was spinning from the intimacy of feeling his breath fanning over your face.

“I don't really have any food here” You admitted sheepishly.

“Okay, how about this then” He crouched by the couch so that his eyes were level with yours, “Why don't you go and have a shower, do whatever you need to feel a bit better, and I'll go out and get us some food”

“Rex… I can't ask you to do that for me” You spoke hesitantly, but he shook his head.

“You're not asking, and in fact, neither am I” He said with a playful glint in his eye, “Go and freshen up, that's an order soldier”

You giggled at him and took the hand that he offered to help you up.

“Yes sir” You saluted him and marched off in the direction of the refresher, earning a laugh from the clone.

You stepped into the refresher and looked yourself in the eye for probably the first time in days. You did not look good. Your eyes held bags that looked so heavy that they could weigh down the skin they inhabited, your hair was a complete mess, and your skin was dull and lifeless.

You sighed, grabbed your hairbrush, and decided to start there. It took a few minutes, but soon, your hair was completely knot-free, and you stripped off and stepped into the shower. You took your time finding the perfect temperature, which ended up being almost scalding hot. You leaned your elbows against the wall, letting the water hit your back and relieving some of the tension you could feel there.

Now that you were actually in the shower, you didn't feel like leaving at all. Though, the idea of Rex being outside the door when you finished was enough for you to quickly wash yourself and your hair and hop out again. You brushed your teeth twice and moisturised your clean skin. Looking in the mirror, you looked a lot better than you did before you went in the shower, and you were eternally thankful for that. If you were going to see the person you had been in love with for years, you only wanted to look your best.

You stepped out of the refresher and headed for your bedroom with your dirty clothes in hand.

“Hey, are you-”

You jumped out of your skin when you saw Rex stood in the living area with a bag in hand, and he did too when he saw you with only a towel wrapped around you. Your eyes went wide, and you wrapped the towel tighter around your body on instinct, only fueling the less-than-pure thoughts that were spilling into Rex's brain. You looked so incredible, your hair dripping water over your body, which was seemingly glistening with its new cleanliness, and your towel left little to the imagination.

“Um yeah, you're out, cool, uh- I'll let you get dressed” He turned around and cursed silently to himself for being so awkward.

You just chuckled nervously, feeling utterly mortified, and made your way to your room as intended. You found a fresh oversized t-shirt and pair of soft shorts and slipped into them quickly, rejoining Rex in the other room.

He had taken off the top half of his armour, leaving just his blacks, the Republic insignia adorned proudly on his chest. The tightness of the top showed off his toned physique as if he wasn't even wearing anything, and you had to tear your eyes away from it.

“What did you get?” You asked quietly, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“Noodles, is that okay?” He asked, looking to you a little nervously.

You chucked at his demeanour, which was decidedly un-captain-like as he looked to you for approval, “It's perfect, thank you”

You both picked up the boxes that held your food and dug in, and your bodies turned to face each other as you rested against oppsite ends of the couch. It was good to have a proper meal, with actually nutritious foods. When you had eaten as of late, it had mostly been ration bars or random snacks you could find in your apartment. You hummed contentedly, and Rex smiled at you.

“Good?”

“Mhm” You smiled, swallowing a bite, “Thank you Rex”

“It’s alright” He said nonchalantly.

“I mean it, thank you for… taking care of me” You said, then looked down, “I'm finding that difficult at the moment, so it means a lot”

“Cyare” Rex moved towards you and placed a hand on your knee, “It's really no trouble, I just want to see you feeling better”

You looked up at him and gave a tight lipped smile, “Well, thank you anyway”

“No problem. You look a little more alive now, by the way” He teased.

“Hey! You're the one that said I looked good before, you cant take it back now” You challenged, and he smirked.

“I'm not taking it back. You just look even better now” He said, but his smirk dropped when you froze up at his comment.

“You dont have to say that just to make me feel better, you know” You said, looking down and taking your final mouthful of noodles.

“I'm not just saying it” He said quietly, and you looked up to see his light frown. You put down your food box as he continued to stare at you seriously.

“What is it?” You ask.

“It's nothing, don't worry about it” He said quickly and put his own food box down as he finished.

“Rex” You scooted closer to him so that your knees were almost touching, “What's the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter” He avoided your eyes as he spoke, and you used the technique that he employed earlier on, gently taking his chin between your thumb and finger and guiding his gaze towards you.

“What is it?” You asked again, and his eyebrows pinched together as his eyes flicked between the two of yours.

“You're so beautiful Cyare” He said, tentatively placing his hand on your lower thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the gentle touch, and you searched his eyes for any dishonesty but only found them to be as earnest as usual.

“I- I should've been telling you every day since I met you” He said, his voice breaking just a little as he spoke so softly, “I should’ve been telling you how much you mean to me, how much I care for you, how important you are” He stroked his thumb back and forth on your thigh, sending tingles up your spine.

“Rex” You breathed out in a whisper, your hand sliding around to cup his sharp jaw. He leaned into your touch, and you felt as if you could melt at the sight.

“Say something” He urged, his eyes pleading for a conformation that you felt the same way.

“I-” You didn't know what to say. You felt the same, but the words got caught in your throat. It felt wrong to truly admit to your affection for him after bottling it up for so long.

“Rex, I've always cared for you, far more than a medic should care for their patient” You admitted, and his eyes lit up.

“You have?” He asked, and you nodded in reply.

“And for the record, I think you're beautiful too” You let a small grin creep its way onto your face.

“That’s good to know” Rex smirked, bringing his other hand to your cheek.

He looked deeply into your eyes, the eyes that he always found so fascinating, and he leaned his forehead against yours before tilting his head towards your lips. You shivered with anticipation.

“Is this okay? I don't want to take advantage of you if you-”

“Just kiss me Rex” You whispered against his lips, your eyes fluttering shut. He didn't delay after that. With your permission, he couldn't say no.

His lips met yours tentatively, as if testing the waters, but as soon as he felt you kiss him back, he pulled you in more urgently. His lips moved against yours, melding together as if it was how they were made to be. You felt your need for closeness growing, and you pulled him towards you as you deepened the kiss. Rex slid his hand up your thigh, resting it on your hip and tracing small circles with his thumb as his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as he devoured your lips.

Rex pulled back, his teeth lingering on your bottom lip for a moment, and you both caught your breath.

“I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that” You said, your breath still short.

Rex grinned widely, “Yeah? I can guarantee it's probably not as long as I have”

“Probably not” You chuckled, “Unless you somehow wanted to before you even looked at me for the first time”

Rex raised his eyebrows, “You've wanted to kiss me the whole time we've known each other?” He asked, and you nodded your head shyly. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I dont know, I guess I just figured you wouldn't feel the same” You shrug.

Rex just shook his head with a smile and pulled you onto his lap “Oh, how wrong you were”

“Is that right?” You smirked, “I'd love to hear all about just how wrong I was”

Rex smirked back at you, and placed a kiss to your cheek, “I've wanted to kiss those pretty lips of yours ever since I laid eyes on you” He confessed, and your breath hitched as he continued to place featherlight kisses along your jaw. “I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen” He kissed down your neck slowly, gently nipping at you with his teeth at the point where your neck meets your shoulder, which earned a small whine from you, and you could feel him smirk.

“I've never felt the way I feel about you, about anyone else” He murmured against your skin, burying his nose in your neck and inhaling your scent.

His words were driving you crazy. They were all you had ever wanted to hear from him, and here he was, speaking them aloud as he kissed your skin so gently, as if you would break if he pressed any harder.

“Rex” You whispered, and he looked up at you, waiting for you to continue.

“What is it, Mesh'la?” He whispered back, his lips ghosting yours. You shuddered in his arms, your eyes fluttering closed, and he watched your every move with anticipation.

“Rex, I-” You leaned your forehead against his, needing an anchor before you spoke your next words, “I need you”

Rex's heart skipped a beat. Possibly a few beats. “What do you mean, Cyare?”

“Please, take me to the bedroom” You asked, begged, and Rex took action immediately.

He held you to him as he stood up, and you wrapped your legs around him tightly. He made his way to your bed quickly and gently laid you onto your back, crawling over you so he was holding himself above your body.

“You're sure about this, Cyare? If it's just a lapse in judgement because you're not in your right mind, I understand, no hard feelings” Rex stroked your cheek with his knuckles, looking into your eyes intently.

“Rex, please. My judgement is just fine. I want you. I've always wanted you” You said, the neediness so obvious in your tone. Rex's expression then settled somewhere between amusement and adoration.

“You want me?” He smirked, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Yes” You spoke breathlessly.

“Say it again” He commanded in a whisper, his amber eyes burning into your very soul.

“I want you, Rex”

He breathed out a shaky breath and brought his lips to yours, speaking between chaste kisses, “You have me, all of me. You always have. I've always been yours”

It was almost too much to hear. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you thought you'd made it all up.

“I've always been yours Rex” You whispered against his lips, and his breath stuttered.

“You're mine?” He asked in a murmur. The flame of desire burning in his eyes was clear.

“Only yours”

He pressed his lips to yours with a newfound desperation, his hand trailing down your body and holding your hips in place as he slipped his leg between yours. You grasped at his body, your hands finding themselves underneath the top of his blacks, and he stopped kissing you to pull it off. You absolutely marvelled at the sight.

In all your time knowing Rex, mending up his various wounds, you had never had the honour of glimpsing at his form without a shirt on. You traced along a scar at the centre of his chest, “How did you get this?”

“I was shot” He shrugged with a grin.

“No big deal for a big important Captain like you, I suppose” You teased and matched his grin as he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up” He mumbled against your skin as he buried his head in your neck, leaving soft kisses and less soft bites. You struggled to keep small moans from escaping your lips at his touch, and Rex noticed you holding back. He wound his way up to your lips, pressing a short kiss to them before he spoke.

“Don't hold out on me cyar'ika, I want to hear you”

You bit your lip and nodded at him, then kissed a trail across his strong jaw, earning a soft groan. As your kisses made their way down his neck, and you brought your hands to trail down his body, he groaned more deeply. The sound was driving you insane. Before you could breach the top of his blacks, Rex gathered your wrists in his hand and held them above your head, your eyes blown wide with desire and longing, your breath ragged.

Rex just looked at you for a moment, committing the intoxicating sight to his memory. His other hand found your face as he shifted the leg that was between yours, earning a whimper, “Don't worry about that, just let me take care of you”

You shuddered at his words, your body tense with anticipation for what was to come.

He looked so perfect, angelic even.

Watching Rex sleep was never a luxury you imagined yourself getting the opportunity to indulge in, but with it right in front of you, you weren't going to let it pass you by.

You had slept for a little while, wrapped up in Rex's limbs, and held closely to his body. You had been completely at peace, every struggle and awful thought that usually plagued you was pushed to the back of your mind and there was only him, his presence enveloping you; his warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin against yours, his breath against your cheek and his chest rising and falling gently. Now, as you moved away from him and watched the cold light of morning creep across his features, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight.

You slipped out of his arms, a soft sigh escaping him in the process. Your heart clenched at the sound, only feeling your adoration for him growing once again.

You reluctantly tore your gaze away from him and went over to your desk, opening the left draw as quietly as you could. You took out your flimsi sketchbook and a pencil and made your way over to the chair that was against the large window overlooking the city. However, that wasn't the focus of your sketching today, not when there was a sight far more beautiful laying in your bed.

You opened up your small sketchbook and looked at the last thing you had drawn. It was a scene from the park. A couple sat on a bench at the edge of the man-made pond and smiling adoringly at each other. You smiled and pushed down the guilt at the realisation that you had drawn this over four months ago.

When you looked up to Rex again, your heart skipped a beat. The sun had risen a little higher in the sky and cast a golden light across the lower half of his face and chest. You took up your pencil and began sketching the view before anything could disturb it.

The sheets were pooled at his waist, showing off his toned physique in all its glory, especially as he slept with one hand tucked under his head. His features were relaxed, more relaxed than you had ever seen. His face often had a sternness about it that was undeniably militaristic, but that was nowhere to be found as he slept peacefully.

You had the outline and were now just adding the details. The small marks on his skin, some that you had fixed up yourself, and the large blaster burn in the centre of his chest. As you were adding some of the shadows to his face, you heard a small grumble, and your head shot up to see Rex opening his eyes, stretching his arms out.

“Don’t move” You spoke gently, and he looked to you, noticing your sketchbook in your hand as you sat curled up in your chair.

He smiled, a warmth spreading across his chest as he settled back into his previous position, “Like this?”

“Mhm” You hummed in reply, taking in the way the shadows on his face changed now that he was awake. “Relax” You laughed as you saw a small crease emerge in his brow.

He chuckled a little and relaxed with a contented sigh.

“Almost done” You said quietly, as if to not disturb your own work.

You quickly added the remaining shading, adding some small details of the bed and the room, wanting to capture the moment perfectly, so that should your mind ever forget it, which you doubted, it would be forever recorded. That was what you loved about using flimi over a datapad. The physicality felt more personal and permanent.

“All finished” You smiled as you closed your sketchbook and went to place it back in your desk.

“Hey! Aren't you going to show me?” Rex asked, and you looked back to him to see the crease in brow had returned.

“It's not very good, it's just a sketch”

“Cyare, I love your sketches. Please, show me” He spoke gently, an edge of seriousness to deny your self-deprecating words.

“Okay” You conceded, opening the sketchbook back up and sitting down on the bed to show him. Rex then grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him, making you fall back into his chest as he laid down again. A delighted laugh escaped your lips at the sudden contact, and you looked up to Rex's face to see an equally elated expression.

He took the sketchbook from your hand and looked over the drawing of himself, his smile widening with each second.

“It's amazing” He said softly, meeting your eyes again.

“That's because it's of you” You smiled and brushed your nose against his, earning a small chuckle.

“No, it's… You make me look so…” He looked over the drawing and tried to find the right word to describe what he meant, “I'm not sure. It looks exactly like me, but… There's something else to it”

“Well, all the best things are made with love” You said before you could even really process what you were saying.

Rex’s eyes went wide as they snapped back to yours, “Love?” He questioned.

You shrank backwards, wanting the bed to collapse in on itself and swallow you whole, but Rex’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you against him. You let the word hang in the air for a moment before clearing your throat and swallowing hard.

“Uh… yeah” You said awkwardly, looking away.

Rex said your name in a soft tone, pulling your focus back to him. He rested his forehead against yours, his amber eyes burning into yours, “You love me?”

“I do” You whispered, gnawing your bottom lip at the vulnerability of the admission.

Rex met your lips in a sweet kiss, slow and deliberate, and pulled away a few seconds later. He caressed your cheek with his knuckles before he settled his palm on the back of your neck. “I love you too” He confessed, and your heart leapt to your throat.

“You do?” You whispered.

“I do. I always have. It's like I said, I've always been yours” He confirmed, repeating the words he had said last night. You brought your forehead to his again and closed your eyes, taking in the sweetness of the moment.

“And I yours”

Nothing was fixed. You weren't back to being happy and full of life like you once were, but Rex had reminded you why life was worth living. You were reminded of all the things that made it worthwhile, all of the things you loved to do, the things that brought joy and colour into your life. If you could just take it one step at a time, one day after the other, you would get through this feeling, and best of all, Rex would be there to support you when you needed him.

#trex writings #star wars #the clone wars #501st battalion #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x female reader #clone troopers #divider by cafekitsune

164 notes · View notes

inmaki · 1 year ago

Text

gojo fic dropping jan 3 (POSTED!) here is a sneak peek of whats to cum, if u wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!!!!

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn't just good at sex.

no — according to himself, he was some kind of sex god, to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with luscious white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he's done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you'd gotten together - going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn't blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn't initiated anything; y'know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know, your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

"bro, it'd be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!" flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

"everything'd be fine if you didn't pretend to be some incubus that gets girls to cum with a snap of his finger," geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he's resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. "that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. "how'm i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn't trust me anymore?"

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "you know y/n isn't like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow," he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she'll be begging for you in no time."

as usual, geto knows him too well judging by the way his last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. "ya think so?"

"hell yeah, man." the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a determined gleam in both of their eyes.

sorry this is short but i gotta leave the good stuff a surprise <\3 finally my kpop smut blog skills r coming in handy.. i may be rusty tho i apologize

535 notes · View notes

jessilynallendilla · 6 months ago

Text

DPXDC BATFAM FIC REC

TITLE/LINK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

DP FIC REC HOME POST

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to suggest any

& BRUCE

City Of Last Hopes (The Long Homecoming) T

Bruce Wayne became a registered foster parent at the age of twenty when he decided to take in a newly orphaned Dick Grayson. The state of New Jersey and the city of Gotham decided to utilize that fact. Over the years, Bruce has fostered dozens of children, though they were all kept out of the limelight for their own protection. Some he was able to keep in contact with after they moved on from his home. Others, he wasn't. But the ones he worried about the most were the two that should have been his but weren't, were taken away, instead. It's been eleven years since Bruce last saw Jazz and Danny Fenton, and while he's grateful to know they're alive, he dearly wished he'd found them sooner.

All I Am To You Is A Tragedy, Right? M SERIES

Two years ago, Bruce Wayne lost his son, Danny, to one of the Fentons' botched inventions. Return to present day, he's come to another universe to retrieve something from Fenton Works. There, he finds another version of his son, alive and breathing. If Bruce could not keep his son, thanks to their incompetency, why should they keep theirs?

My Best Friend, Danny G

He had been frothing at the mouth to see Bruce take on the Mantle of the Bat that he hadn’t even thought of how he became Batman, at least not realistically. He knew because the comics told him so, but here and now, feeling Bruce’s tears drying on his skin, the warmth of the child’s back as he rested his hand there soothingly, Danny felt his own tears start to gather. He curled himself around Bruce’s slumbering body and cried softly

Finding Solace T

When working on a possible case in Amity Park, Bruce Wayne didn't expect to find a kid that would burrow he's way into his heart. A strange connection built, and before Bruce knew it, he found a new addition to the family. Well before they really needed each other.

Rendezvous T 766 SERIES

a king from another dimension approaches Batman to ask for help. This isn't the weirdest thing Bruce experiences that night.

Wayne's Haunted Mansion M SERIES

Something is wrong. Bruce notices it when he's not alone, but he feels like he is being watched. The bad part? He feels it both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman. Who is watching him? He's determined to find out. He regrets it when finds out that there is another child in his home, but one who is in desperate need of help.

To Fail And To Succeed T 6,940 SERIES

A very tired Bruce Wayne may have revealed to Vicki Vale that he wasn't as dumb as he pretended, so Brucie Wayne needs a stupid business venture to throw money at. What better than two paranormal scientists who swear they can build a portal to the Realm of the Dead? He didn't anticipate the damn thing actually working. And he certainly didn't anticipate watching another child die.

The Absolute Fuckery Caused By One Danny Fenton NR

Jazz got Bruce Wayne to temporarily get care of Danny to prevent anymore attacks from the G.I.W. towards her brother. A few flaws with this plan, Danny doesn't trust adults, rich people, or people who want to adopt him. Which Bruce Wayne technically fits all of. So Danny has come to the conclusion if he is going to be shacked up, mostly against his will, with another Fruitloops, he is going to enjoy himself, and hopefully get himself kicked out in the process.

Found In Gotham G 4,026 SERIES

Months after appearing in Metropolis, a teen with glowing white hair appears exploring Gotham's skyline. He appears to be looking for the city's main vigilante, so Batman approaches him.

Monsters At Your Doorstep T 1,907

Bruce falls into a cave of bats and meets the darkness-- or whatever it is that lives inside it.

Summons NR 17,295

Phantom was next in line for the throne of the Ghost Zone, however, he was still underage. He wouldn't be king for some time, yet when they summon the Ghost King now, someone still has to show up.

Long Live The King (The Ghost King Is Dead) T SERIES

Ghosts are attacking across the nation. The Justice League Dark's supernatural entity contacts either don't know anything or they refuse to talk. The government facilities that the ghosts are targeting refuse to offer any information, rather they are pushing for martial law that allows them to declare war against the attacking ghosts. Bruce's last lead is Jasmine Fenton, daughter of the deceased ecto-biologists Madeleine and Jack Fenton, currently imprisoned in Blackgate.

Oh, My Humanity T 4.466 SERIES

In one timeline, Bruce learns about Phantom's identity as the ghost falls to pieces in his arms. In another, Bruce finds out like this. Bruce copes like he always does: by falling apart at the seams. Otherwise known as: an alternate sequel to oh, the humanity, now with more emotional impact.

Timeline Unraveling T SERIES

Clockwork rescues old Bruce Wayne, Terry and Matt McGinnis, Max Gibson and Dana Tan from a collapsing timeline and brings them safely to Danny, who delivers them to a Gotham decades before most of them were born. Not only is it in the past, but it becomes obvious very quickly that this new past is drastically different. Jason's alive, the Joker's dead, Bruce has another child besides Dick, Tim and Jason, and Bruce actually goes to therapy. It's a lot of adjustment for both the timeline refugees and the people of the new timeline who are helping them.

Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings T SERIES

Stumbling blindly through Gotham's night was not how Danny expected his evening to go -- but to be fair, Vlad injecting him with blood blossom extract was also NOT how he was expecting his evening to go. So it's a night of new surprises, and really Danny just wants to get away from his godfather as soon as possible before the man catches up to him, or before the blood blossom currently coursing through his veins and eating him raw killed him. Vlad is a man that likes to hide in the dark, it's unfortunate for him that Danny's learned to be a thing that hides in there too. From the corner of his unfocused eye he spots a man with horns dripping in shadows, hiding in an alleyway. Danny knows a kindred spirit when he sees one.

Zeus' Dice T SERIES

Two years, almost to the day, after the Great Amity Park Tragedy finds Danny Fenton, orphaned and alone, being handed over to his newest foster parent. But, unlike the others, this foster has a secret that could bring Danny back into the hero business. Because, unlike the others, this foster is a hero himself: He is Batman.

Ghosts Of Gotham T

Gotham has a ghost problem. And it's not the Amity Park kind of ghost problem. While Danny tries his hardest to stay out of the spotlight, his attempts to help the unseen population of Gotham lands him in a world of trouble. Now Bruce Wayne is offering him protection and he could be the only one with the ability to stop a new crime organisation from taking over his new home. OR People are going missing in Gotham and this new kid is keeping secrets. Bruce doesn't like this at all.

Voices That They Left T SERIES

When a new ghostly enemy cost Danny Fenton the lives of his friends and family, he wasn't expecting to get adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne and move to Gotham. All he needs to do is survive two years until he can go back to live in Amity Park. Something dark is growing in him though, and it's stoking the bitterness and anger that burns inside.

& JASON

The Third Mother NR

For the past year, Jason Todd has been searching for his birth mother. There are three potential suspects for the identity of his mother. The first is an agent by the Israeli Secret Service by the name of Sharmin Rosen. The second is an assassin of world renown working under the name Lady Shiva. The third is revealed to be a false name. Dr. Sheila Haywood died before Jason was even born. When the first two leads turn out to be dead ends, Jason has only one way forward: visit Haywood's only living relative (who isn't off the grid): Her sister, Dr. Maddie Fenton. But the town of Amity Park has its own secrets, and they don't take too kindly to the Bats investigating their home...

Chasing Shadows T

As Bruce Wayne begins to slowly recover from the loss of his son, two separate mysteries open up old wounds. Who is the unknown leaving clues hinting at a return to Gotham, and who is the phantom pretending to be his lost son? Is it just a coincidence they're active in Gotham at the same time? Or are they connected?

Unearthed, Reborn M

24-year-old Danny isn't sure what, exactly, is going on when he stumbles on newly-formed halfa Jay in the Ghost Zone. Unfortunately, Jay can't really remember enough to give him any hints. Oh well, who needs to know their past anyway? This is Gotham; no one cares about your past here. Besides, Jay just got adopted by the weirdest trio of people he's ever met, so he's got more important things to focus on.

Ghosts? As My Therapy Animals? More Likely Than You Think. T 21,463

Jason is minding his own business, picking up strange green glowing goops with eyes, and living his not-very-best life. Meanwhile the Batfamily is tracking down flying dogs, overpowered Metas calling themselves ghosts, and someone is having far too much fun with the boxes around Gotham. But this ain't about them.

"Oh My God, I'm Becoming My Father." T

Dani needs money, there's only so long her human body can last without food, and she lost the credit card Sam gave her when she crash-landed in Gotham city bay. So, she decides she's going to go the one guy she knows exists in Gotham that will help a kid down on their luck no questions asked - Red Hood. Last time she'd seen Danny, he'd told her that there were rumours the Red Hood was undead, so he was the safest option for a halfa like her. So, she needed to ask *THE* undead crime lord of Gotham for a job. She didn't mean to get accidentally adopted.

The King Who Reigns Supreme NR

Jason rage episodes are getting worse and the family (reluctantly) calls for help. Enter Ghost King, and whatever is up with Todd is a lot more than what anyone could imagine.

Dead Men Walking T 2,406

“A knight who answers his King’s call is no interloper.”

“Do you answer my call, Jason Todd?” The Ghost King asks.

Before Those Hands Pulled Me From The Earth NR 1,626

When there was an alert about a disturbance at Jason’s grave the whole family was on edge. Or Danny wakes up in a coffin unable to faze out of it in his panic but Jason and Bruce come to his rescue

Reaper of Heroes (DC Edition) NR 1,527 SERIES

Once crowned Ghost King, Danny also gains another responsibility: reaping the souls of fallen heroes. After all, who better to collect them than a former hero like himself?

Dig Three Graves In Apartment 31c M 15,951 SERIES

Danny Fenton has the role of Willis Todd. There are lots of things to regret about Jason's upbringing

You're Not Yourself When Your Hangry G 2,803

Sam dragged Danny to a gala in Gotham while he is exhausted from fighting his rogues and school. He at least got to smuggle a thermos full of ectoplasm in, otherwise he'd have fallen asleep by now. Meanwhile, Tim and Jason are both just as sleep deprived as Danny, but still being forced to go to the gala. Some time after arriving Tim hides and a seething Jason goes looking for him and finds a tired guy that looks like Tim who offers him a thermos.

Batman's Cape T

Pain and Fear reverberate throughout the Infinate Realms, a wail rips through the air coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Meanwhile on a table the Realms King to be lay strapped down, that which should not be seen lay bare to the eyes of the two in the room. Those he once called parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton held tools that seemed to shift to the macabre glowing all the while. He made a mistake, he let his guard down. They touched it. TheytouchedithelphelphelpneedsafesafesafesafesafeDamiDamiDamiDamiDamiSafeDamisafe. Jason knew something was wrong, did he have to admit it? No. He had been hearing screems -young screams- reverberating through what sure felt like his whole body along with pain searing just under his skin for a week now on and off. Plus it didn't' help that once the pain was gone the pit would take over and he would wake up like 2 states to the west with questionably clean hands and no recolection on how he got there.

̶G̶o̶o̶d̶ Bad Habits Run In The Family T

̶J̶a̶s̶o̶n̶ Red Hood found a teenager hurt in an alleyway, and since he was responsible for the people in his domain, he decided to take him back somewhere safe to take care of him. Turns out, there was a lot more to the situation than Red Hood would have ever anticipated. Including the fact that he was growing attached to the brat who seemed stubborn about everything.

Law Of Retribution NR SERIES

Jason starts seeing ghosts. Danny comes back to the Living Realm for the first time since the Incident. He has a job offer for Red Hood

Baby Ghosts And Baby Birds T

This is based off the prompt I made about both Danny and Jason being considered baby ghosts and being kidnapped by the other ghosts because Gotham is a bad place for babies.

Spelunking T 7,341 SERIES

Danny had just arrived at Wayne Manor after losing everything and convincing Vlad to take a break from trying to mold the kid to be his perfect son. Now, Danny needs to figure out where to hide his souvenir (*soup*venir?) from the Nasty Burger explosion. While doing so, he accidentally finds the BatCave and an unmasked Red Hood. What was it with billionaires and keeping creepy underground lairs

Zombie Prince Of The Infinite Realms T

On a business trip to Gotham, Danny Fenton, CEO of FentonWorks (and King of the Infinite Realms), feels something shift in the fabric of reality. Now he’s got an undead teenager whose soul doesn’t really fit his body anymore, and a whole lot of questions about why the local psychiatric facility functions as a “prison.”

The Moon Will Sing A Song (I Love You Like The Sun) T SERIES

Sometimes, grief has a gravity that you never get up from. And sometimes, it leaves little boys that have glass in their teeth and punch-scraped skin with a hole in their heart and blood in their mouth, and a five-year long taste for vengeance over the murder of their best friend. Gotham claws its way into the hearts of its children and leaves oil-smears on their souls. For Danny Fenton, he is no different and no better than the rest of his fellow kids of Crime Alley. It doesn't matter if he's been gone since he was eleven. Blood has always been a part of him, so it's second nature for him to pick up his fists and turn them into claws. It's how he's been taught, after all. And what he's also been taught, is that arrogance kills, and the Joker has been long since due for his fill. What's one more death in Gotham's long list of them?

Cradled In The Wails Of A King T 1,491 SERIES

Danny is in a meeting when he hears the screams of one of his most trusted guard. Dame Gotham screams until she can't anymore at the grave of a small bird, gone too soon. He checks for a soul and finds something... not so much alive as it is something dead being reanimated. Someone else to protect.

Starling T

The kid went by ‘Danny Phantom’. The next file was where things got interesting. A corrupted blood sample analysis had been put through the computers, where, along with a whole host of unknown compounds and chemicals, the DNA pinged several alleles, proving a potential familial match. A familial match to him. It couldn’t be. No. But the boy looked to be about the same age as he would have been, after Jason did a quick bit of mental math. But the hair and eyes were all wrong.

Throwdown Therapy T 30,714 SERIES

Danny hears about a suspicious character lurking around Gotham and decides to befriend him. Jason has no thoughts on the matter — mostly, he has a lot of empty-head green-tinged rage on the matter. This is less of a roadblock than one might expect. Danny thinks he might even be able to help the guy, if he can form enough of a relationship to bring up sensitive topics like "you have the ghostly equivalent of lead poisoning or maybe rabies, we aren't quite sure".

Adoption Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up To Be T

Danny Phantom escapes the Doctors Fenton and flees to Gotham with Jazz. Unfortunately, he looks quite similar to a certain Jason Todd around the time of his death. Kidnapped by the Batfam in a case of mistaken identity, Danny doesn’t have a good time and Jazz becomes a supervillain to look for him.

On Any Given Day (We’re Only Six Feet Away) T

Jason follows a lead and finds something he wasn’t looking for.

All I Have Is Freeze Dried Peaches and Packet Ramen, And They Aren’t Very Good But They’re all I Have T 1,804 SERIES

Everything’s gone. And it’s all Danny’s fault. Or; Jason finds a teenager on a roof. He assumes the worst. Or, or; Danny’s always preferred being up high. And he wasn’t so surprised by the vigilante that stopped by. He seems nice. Danny’s sorry for scaring him

Brain Fried NR

Danny flees the GIW, crashing into a dumpster in Gotham. Lucky for him, another being like him finds him. Jason is confused and concerned.

And I Turn Away To See, Proud Evening Star T

Jason finds Danny in an alleyway soaking wet and definitely having a fever and well, adoption genes be kicking in

The Song Of Healing T 2,001

What if it wasn't the waters of the Lazarus Pitt alone that could heal someone back from the dead- but the creatures that lurk within them? Takes place during Jason's revival from the Lazarus Pitts.

To Join The Whispers T 55,630 SERIES

A contact for the Batfamily passed along a rumor that the League of Assassins were investigating a small city called Amity Park. The old man and Tim managed to find evidence of unusual paranormal activity in the town. While they weren’t entirely certain it wasn’t just infested with metas, the locals believed the entities that haunted, for lack of a better word, the town were actual ghosts. If there was one thing Ra’s al Ghul didn’t need to get his grubby hands on, it was ghosts. That’s probably why Jason was doing this. He had the unfortunate luck to experience both death and resurrection in a way he’d never recommend to anyone else.

At The Core T

Danny finds a guy with a rather sickly core. Thankfully Frostbite can probably help with that. Meanwhile the Bat family is worried that Jason has been missing for so long.

Shrodinger’s Bat NR SERIES

The dirt wasn’t packed in as it should be. These graves looked fresh. Danny counted five graves like this in total. One was an outlier. Two were suspicious. But five? Someone was digging up graves in Gotham. Nearly one year after the death of Jason Todd, Danny Fenton arrives in Gotham City. Why is he there? And what does it have to do with Jason?

Surprise Halloween Haunting NR 2,153

Halloween month was always chaotic for Gotham, especially for the vigilantes guarding her. This Halloween, the Batboys found themselves captured by some cult as sacrifices. Stripped off their gears and chained to a chair, Jason found himself calling for help to get out of the situation.

& TIM

Ghosts, Legacies, And CPS T

Vlad's latest and greatest plan to get Danny to be his son is really, stupidly simple. He called CPS. Annoyingly effective, Jazz began to look into their family tree to see where else Danny could go. One surprise set of adoption paperwork later reveals an entire lineage none of the Fentons knew about: the Drakes, of which the only surviving member is their cousin, Tim Drake. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, so reaching out to Tim Drake it is. Meanwhile, Tim has been dealing with Ra’s al Ghul and a new player on the board calling themself Plasmius. Plasmius is a ghost, and a weird phone call reveals Tim’s related to ghost hunters, so obviously taking Danny in while CPS investigates the Fentons is just the logical outcome. Sure Bruce butts in, but ultimately, it just looks like an easy avenue for intel. Tim just didn’t anticipate Phantom and the utter chaos that comes with him.

Bones And All T

Tim comes along with Sebastian and some of his friends to a supposed haunted forest on the edge of Gotham City. They quickly find out that the forest really is haunted, but Tim comes to learn there's a much larger mystery at hand. And that mystery has to do with one Danny Fenton.

Teenage Hero Burnout #56: Interview With A Ghost. NR 2,881

Red Robin, (aka Tim Drake) decides to host a YouTube series called "Teenage Hero Burnout'' after he makes a video by the same name talking about his own experiences. He interviews current and past heroes who started their careers as teens and discuss how it shaped their outlook on heroing & life in general.

Phantom In Gotham T

On the run from his parents, Danny Fenton hides out in Gotham and catches the attention of the Bat family. Mishap after mishap leads Danny to be living on the streets, and going to school with Tim drake, who wonders about the strange new kid in his class. Will Bruce try to adopt another blue eyed black haired kid? Who knows!

Not Everyone Who Can Fight Is A Vigilante Or A Criminal G 1,461 SERIES

After a rogue attack on Gotham University’s campus, Danny and Tim notice that they both have impressive fighting skills. Danny suspects that Tim is a mob, while Tim suspects Danny is secretly a League of Shadows member and intends to gather more information about Danny.

I Can Feel My Body Shiver NR

Clockwork gives him a choice: to stay in the Infinite Realms and begin his term as the High King or to start fresh in another dimension. Danny is now living in Gotham. Even if it's definitely not a resort, he hopes he can finally find some peace so far from Amity Park. Of course, one particular bird notices him. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one.

A Bats Eye View NR 4,736 SERIES

Tims perspective from umm im an ambasador.

A Chill In The Batcave T

The Spirit of Gotham knows two things for sure… one, The Ghost King needed protection while he recovered and was able to form outside of his core. Two, The Dark Knight and his children were the best people to protect anything. So of course, she hides Danny’s core in the Batcave. Chaos and haunting ensues. Tim Drake is almost half certain that he didn’t used to hallucinate this much, even if he hasn’t slept in three days. And he was almost one hundred percent sure that they hadn’t gained another sibling while he was sleeping.

You're Gonna Be Sooo Haunted T

Tim Drake (aka red robin) accidentally "kills" a civilian while on patrol. Danny Fenton was not expecting to fall off a roof, but being the bored teen he was, decided it would be a great idea to mess with Gotham's vigilantes for a while.

TWINcognito Mode T 23,369

Danny, High King of the Infinite Realms, has been tricked into inhabiting the brainwashed and soulless clone of Tim Drake-Wayne. Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Industries and Red Robin, found a clone of himself that fought against Ra's brainwashing enough to request help. So Tim and Danny, upon both being cognizant enough to be on the same wavelength, looked at each other and decided hey; it's a free twin. Now how do we make that everyone elses problem?

A Successful Sacrifice T 3,065

Tim as Red Robin was killed when being sacrificed to summon Danny who was forced into his body

Serotonin M 3,388 SERIES

After his Accident, Danny had been prescribed antidepressants. He... might not have taken them. It hadn't been a problem until Bruce found out about them. Tim feels the aftermath more keenly than he'd cared to admit.

The Haunting Of Drake Manor T SERIES

Timothy Drake, son of amateur archaeologists, comes into possession of an antique oil lamp. It's plain enough, despite it's historic value— and it takes nothing at all to figure out how to light it. Alone on his birthday and left alone with a flame, Tim makes a wish. Desiree wakes up in the corpse of a human woman.

Creation Both Haunted And Holy G 11,449 SERIES

After looking into a new tourist family in Gotham, Tim finds himself in unexpected situation. Or, the Fenton's visit Gotham and try to build a ghost portal. It goes as well as you think it would.

A Little Overshadowing Never Hurt Anyone T SERIES

Danny gets kidnapped by the Batfam and seeks a way out, a little overshadowing never hurt anyone, right?

& ALFRED

Life Assurance T 7,206

Danny has inherited all contracts made with Pariah Dark but doesn’t know it until he finds himself pulling a bullet out of Bruce Wayne. In which Danny now has to negotiate with a old man over a life assurance policy he purchased.

Glimpse Of A Lifetime G

After years of working for the Waynes, age is finally catching up with the butler. Alfred mind seems to be elsewhere, and he begins to forget important things. Bruce refuses to accept that and seeks every possible solution. When he is about to give up he stumbles with an ancient legend: The Yeti

A Comet’s Flare NR 1,582

When Alfred hears a knock on the Manor doors, he thinks nothing of it. Bruce is still at WE for a little longer and the children of the manor at school, so he opens the heavy doors to tell the guest as such and take a message. Alfred could not tell you what it was that made his mouth dry out and his steps falter. But he could tell you with certainty that it had something to do with the way he did not gasp or feel his heart stutter in his chest. Instead, Alfred feels a wave of melancholy wash over him and steps aside to gesture the man in. “Would you like some tea, sir?” Perhaps this was a conversation that needed tea. He’d been putting it off for so long now.

Of Children And Tea Parties G 5,792 SERIES

Alfred Pennyworth is grateful that the Wayne family wasn't murdered. He is very willing to work with Bruce to lure their savior into a warm and safe home. But does the silent child want to come?

They Might Be Giants G 4,397

Alfred Pennyworth receives a phone call and is given custody over his recently orphaned nephew Danny Fenton.

Rock In The Churning Sea G

Alfred is a constant, in the mansion. That’s a given. A staple of life, a steady rock, there whenever he’s needed. What few know, however, is just how much of a constant he actually is in that mansion. For there’s only few who know he’s died.

Hold Down The (Blanket) Fort G 1,062 SERIES

Alfred finds his grandson awake later than he ought to be. Danny has a sweet reason why.

How To Adopt, The Bruce Wayne Way By Alfred Pennyworth G 1,879

Step One, Find a child. Step Two...

& DICK

Flying Grason And Circus Gothica G 4,934

There's a new circus in town and the batfam surprise Dick by taking him to go see it. He wants to enjoy it, really he does. It's just that, he can't shake the feeling that the boy on the tightrope isn't performing willingly

Here Lies Daniel James Fenton NR 4,284 SERIES

"You killed a man…" Danny twisted his mouth in distaste; that statement wasn't quite right.

"My Friend killed a man." He got the same tight-lipped smile with dead eyes as before.

"You killed a man." This statement was punctuated with a sharp nod as if the man had solved a tricky problem.

Phoenix Down T SERIES

Danny is Dick's son. Neither take it very well, when they find out.

The Firstborn Son T 7,500

Danny Phantom, a somewhat established ruler of the Ghost Zone, has unwittingly acquired a baby. And. Well. He can't exactly keep it in Pariah's Keep. He's no parent, not to mention the huge problem of how the air and sky destabilize human cellular structure. It would be convenient to have the baby's other parent take care of it... assuming that the man is entirely innocent of the plan to sell their offspring for immortality. There has to be a way to prove that the man is safer than the home the baby comes from. ...But the man has his own ward. Hm. Danny can exploit this. What's an assessment without a little test?

The Haunting Habit Of Adoption G 4,073

Dick Grayson is Bruce Wayne's newest foster kid, and he is determined to convince Batman to let him be a vigilante. An unexpected visit from estranged son Damian and his surprise guest gives him the chance to change his mind.

Loli-Kolinaki T

Danny doesn't remember much before he was adopted. But he remembers the Drop. God, he's beginning to remember the drop. Or, where Danny knew Desiree far, far better than before.

Bludhaven's Ghost T

After he fails to save his family and friends in the nasty burger explosion, Danny Fenton runs from Amity to prevent his inevitable future. He finds himself in Bludhaven.

Grave Promises T 53,882

Danny Fenton had nowhere to go and no one he could turn to without putting them in danger. Except, perhaps, the hero who'd cared for, respected, and trained Danny for all too short a time. Dick Grayson had never told anyone he'd once been trapped in the Ghost Zone. He'd also never forgotten the promise he'd made sure to get from Danny Phantom. Jason didn’t know what was going on but he was really very pissed that there was another kid with a y-shaped scar on their chest and eyes that feel like frozen reflections of home. Thankfully, there were suddenly several new targets for his rage and Dick seemed rather more inclined to join Jason than stop him.

There’s Blood In The Water T

Danny, injured from a reveal gone horribly wrong, leaves Amity Park. Nightwing finds a kid bleeding out in an alley.

Myosotis T SERIES

In which the one-and-only Danny Phantom gets amnesia, a new city to protect, some other vigilante friends, and a slightly-overprotective father figure. Nightwing gets premature gray hairs

What Makes A Home (And Other Thoughts From Fever Dreams) T

Dick finds a strange scene on patrol one night; the small form of dying girl huddled in a corner and covered in Lazuras Pit green. He and his family work together to try and save her, but her consciousness dwindles to less and less each day and the time spent awake only provides more questions. Will they work out the mystery surrounding their new guest or will she be forced to say goodbye forever in a unfamiliar bed, surrounded by strangers?

& DAMIAN

Robin's Egg T

While out on nightly patrol, Robin finds a very injured Danny Phantom who is about to be forced back into his core. Now that the ghost boy is entirely defenseless, how is Damien going to protect the core from others? And even harder... how is going to keep Phantom's existence unknown to his family?

When The Ghost King Moves To Gotham City T

Danny is taking a break from being Ghost King 24/7 so he moves to Gotham to help some ghosts and go sightseeing. However, he is now helping a little Bird spread their wings.

Wait A Second T 18,844 SERIES

Danny gets mistaken for Damian at the mall, shenanigans ensue. Meanwhile Damian gets mistaken for Danny at the mall, chaos ensues.

I'd Punch People For You Any Day Of The Week, As Long As You Keep Bringing Those Cookies And Little Baggies Of Fruit Leather And Roll-Ups, Because I Have No Will-Power When It Comes Sugar T SERIES

Danny punches some kid for Damian. Damian approves of this new development. Bruce is tired and worried AND suspicious. Not a great combination. Dan just wants people to stop picking on his younger brother/younger self/past self/it's complicated.

How To Acquire A Ghost T 1,916

Damian jokes he has a new pet. Danny might have a new home.

Danny Kidnaps Damian (Not Actually) T

Danny doesn't like being summoned, especially by the league of assassins. Those guys suck. If you're going to summon an all powerful entity at least do it right. A sandwich or something would be nice. He still wouldn't do their bidding anyway but it's the thought that counts. The one time he mentioned this to the league they offered him a child. Well. If they're offering Danny's gonna get the kid out of there. I mean really. Who in their right mind would offer him a child without laying out parameters. It was insulting really.

FENTONS MEET THE WAYNES

Vacation Crashers T 91,237 SERIES

Batman crashes in the wilderness following up a lead in a recent case. Meanwhile the Fenton family was having a camping trip to celebrate Jazz's last year as a "kid", but considering who suggested the location, it spelt disaster. Now Danny and Jazz have to survive an onslaught of ghosts, take care of an injured Batman, and while worrying about their parents.

Family Bonding And Other Perilous Pursuits G

It started with Casper High failing to fail, resulting in winning the Thomas & Martha Wayne contest despite their best efforts not to, causing them to spend the summer as interns in Gotham. According to Danny, the miserable expirence ended after he spent the whole summer getting kidnapped because the average Gothomite was blind and couldn't tell apart a sixteen from a thirteen year old which went to it's logical extreme of him putting the Joker on life support after the clown stabbed Damian Wayne and his whole class nearly getting adopted by the Red Hood after they somehow took out the Russian mafia. According to the birth certificate Bruce found, this was still very much the beginning and why oh why did he always get surprise relationships?! And no he was not panicking, shut up dear children. The only one not freaking out is Damian who is eager to finally have a blood family member(s?) he doesn't have to worry about trying to kill him or usurp his place as the blood son.

Going Rogue! G

The Fentons visit Gotham for a spot of summer research. It goes about as well as you'd expect...

The City Never Makes Us Beg G 2,661

The Nightingales appear in the Bowery one day in the summer. There had been no moving truck, no arduous trips carrying boxes and furniture up the five flights of stairs to their apartment, no picking up keys from the super. There hadn’t been any paperwork done either, for that matter. They had simply appeared, fully settled into an apartment that had been empty for three years. The Nightingales moved to the Bowery one day in the summer. Hauling up furniture and boxes the five stories of steps to their apartment. The one they'd been lucky to get thanks to a mistake that hadn't been caught until it was too late. A broken family, trying to put the pieces back together after hardship, keep their heads down, get through the days. Same as anyone else this side of the city. There was no reason to pay much attention, save perhaps Jason's interest in tall women with red hair that looked like they could throw him across the street. The Nightingales were a normal family. Gotham made sure of it.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #batman #long post #fic rec

132 notes · View notes

spectral-phases · 5 months ago

Text

Okay, so there are two Gotham born and raised bat fam members who are always being said to have grown up in the wrong neighborhoods and it drives me insane. And like, canon is a sandbox and all that and if you want to imagine something different for your goofy scenarios or fan fiction or whatever, that's cool. I just want to set the record straight for anyone who doesn't know the facts first. Know the rules before you break them and all that.

This is the official map of Gotham from No Man's Land, and the updated Post Flashpoint version with the Narrows.

Jason Todd

Always being put in the Narrows. The Narrows didn't exist when he was first introduced. It's a new neighborhood, speaking for canon. I get it. It's a lower income neighborhood with new relevance given that it's where Duke Thomas grew up.

Jason Todd is from Park Row, an area that once had the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor but became known as Crime Alley after the Waynes died outside the Monarch Theater in Park Row and became one of the lowest income and highest crime rate areas of Gotham. Period. Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne meet in Park Row because Bruce parked his Batmobile there, near the theater, on the anniversary of his parents' deaths and Jason stole the tires. He made Bruce laugh on the anniversary of his parents' deaths near the spot where they died. It's very important to his character and his relationship with Bruce that he is from Park Row/Crime Alley.

(Batman 1940 #408)

Stephanie Brown

I see her dropped into Crime Alley or the Narrows a lot as well. I get it. Like Jason, her father is a criminal who did a lot of prison time and her mother has a drug addiction problem. Her similarities with Jason are likely why she was treated so poorly and why not double down and have her grow up in the same neighborhood as him? However, Jason’s father was, for lack of better word, goon for Harvey Dent (the Penguin post Flashpoint) and died in prison by Harvey (or didn't and became...you know what? Nevermind. I disregard all post Flashpoint background for Jason anyway), whereas Stephanie's father is the B-List criminal Cluemaster. She grew up in the Coventry, a suburban neighborhood within Gotham. Her mother worked at West Mercy Hospital. She might not have had a lot of money, but she was never living on the streets and stealing car parts to survive.

(Robin 1993 #60)

And yes, Stephanie was pregnant as a teen, and gave birth to a child she gave away for adoption. She got pregnant by a boyfriend who left her immediately before she started dating Tim, and Tim helped her out through her whole pregnancy. Including taking her to lamaze classes in disguise or disguising himself as a nurse in the hospital when she was in labor. She did not cheat on Tim.

You know what?

Tim Drake

Do I also like to pretend sometimes that the Drakes had the manor next to Wayne Manor for a long time and never sold it? Yes. I understand the appeal. But it's not a fact.

The boy actually never had a stable home his entire career as Robin, and that likely was not a recent trend. His parents had many properties within Gotham City, a penthouse in Robinson Park and so on and so forth. Tim grew up in boarding schools, went to public school while as Robin before being sent back to boarding school by Jack because he kept ditching class for Robin, and then back to public school before dropping out to find Bruce. His housing situation was never much better, as he never lived in one place with his parents for more than 6 months at time. Here, this goes into it better.

#dc comics #detective comics comics #batman #jason todd #stephanie brown #tim drake #crime alley #park row #the coventry #I cast “read the comics”#spes talks

62 notes · View notes

smallestapplin · 11 months ago

Note

aaaaaa i just saw that you take stardew reqs!! i've been following for a bit but i NEVER get your posts on my dash i stg,,,

may i request some cuddles and reassurances for shane? i can't fix him but i want to just hold him and pretend I can,, can be platonic or romantic, up to you!

I love Shane, cause I'm depressed and self destructive too mf now get over here so I can hug you-

Romance is hinted and it's mutual but neither have confessed.

TW : just Shane having some self deprecating thoughts but nothing serious.

Shane has been doing much better in the months following when you found him drunk by the cliff side, you two have grown closer allowing you to watch how therapy continues to improve him.

Some days are better than others, but you're so proud of the improvements he's been making. But even then he still has some bad days, and those are the days he doesn't want you to see.

He feels so tired, so worthless, so useless, all he can do is lay in bed and rot.

He's watched his clock tick from 8am to 12pm to 5pm and so on, he just doesn't have the energy to get up, the fight he had been carrying just feels like a burden now.

He had been doing so good to, he's sure you'd be disappointed in him for slipping into a depressive state like this. Shane is so lost in his head he doesn't hear his bedroom door open or close, but he dos feel his bed side dip at the newly added weight.

But he doesn't bother looking up, afraid he may start crying, which is all the more likely when you so tenderly brush his hair from his face.

"Rough day today?" You ask, though you know the answer.

You smile at him, even as he finally looks at you with tear filled green eyes. Even now, you still look at him with such care and warmth, what did he ever do to deserve you?

You kick your boots off and lay down behind him, curling up against him with your face buried into the back of his neck and your arms around his waist. You know he will tell you when he is ready, but for right now you just want to distract him from his pain.

"You know my chickens missed you today, Jopeep was not happy when I was the one trying to give her pets, made this clucking sound that i swear sounded like she was sassing me."

You chuckle, your smile growing when Shane gives a small snort.

"And then Eggatha, bless her, hopped on my shoulder like she usually does, but kept looking around like a bird on a mission."

He can almost imagine your day with your flock, your chickens have always had such personalities it was a delight.

"I misssed you too, I was worried when you didn't stop by or answered my text, I figured you were sleeping. But I did bring over some stuffed peppers for you."

You sound so happy, like you don't mind being here with him while he's like this.

"You don't have to do all this." His voice is rough and gravely from not being used all day today, but it sounds so weak.

"I know, you make it sound like I do all this out of some obligation. You do know I do all this because I want to, right? You deserve some peace and joy, you've been through enough."

You're doing all this because you want to.

You help him practice the coping skills and thought processes his therapist has given him, because you want to.

You cook his favorite dishes because you want to.

There is no needing to.

There is no feeling pity and doing these things.

You want to.

"I like having you around, it's fun having you over at the farm and I get to see how many starws of hay I can put in your hood before you notice, I like our inside jokes, I like our time together, I like you and your company, even if you can't see it, it's there."

His body trembles, leaving him shaking like a leaf as he tries to hold back the tears that are already falling down his cheeks.

"But why, I'm not..." he trails off, letting out a choked sob, but that doesn't stop you.

"Healing takes time, it's a slow process and there will be days or times you slip back, to take a few steps back, but you're still working on it, you are still trying to change for the better. And i don't know if you have noticed, but even in two months of therpay you have changed, you seem happier, you seem livelier. You will always have rough days or even rough weeks, but that doesn't mean you're a failure."

Shane can't stop the sobs that leave him, he finds himself flipping around to hug you, buring his face into your shoulder to let it all out. You hold him tightly, gently shushing him and reminding him to breathe.

"I will be here no matter what."

You know your love won't fix his pain, but you know your support can help him feel more confident about going about it.

You want to tell him you love him, that you adore him and his dry sense of humor, that his gentleness with the chickens and Jas make your heart swell.

But maybe you will wait a few more months and see how he is feeling.

You know he means the world to you, even as he cries himself to sleep in your arms after muttering 'thank you's over and over again.

He deserves a safe place to feel happy.

And you want to be that for him.

#sdv shane #sdv Shane x reader #Stardew valley Shane #Stardew valley Shane x reader #stardew valley x reader #comforting

128 notes · View notes

mrs-elsie-barnes · 11 months ago

Text

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 17

Revelations In Tønsberg | Loki x Reader

Thor accompanies you and Loki back to Tønsberg and a warm welcome from the Asgardian court. A far cry from the golden luxury of the The Golden Palace of the gods, but certainly more homey. The villagers get to know you better and secrets are revealed.

Warnings: 18+ for language & sexual content. Dirty talk, prince/princess kink? (is that a thing?), p in v to make up for the parental issues I'm exorcising in this fic. Rated D for Daddy issues and C for cosy.

A/N: what do you mean it's summer? No I obviously didn't slip on my timeline for posting by like 6 months I don't know what you're talking about.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics , @reveriesources and me.

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Your second journey by Bifrost was no more bearable than the first, leaving your head swimming and your stomach roiling as you came to a stop.

Thor laughed heartily and slapped Loki on the back, exchanging jovial words about your trist at the Golden Palace, no doubt. The god seemed to have no filter and no qualms about discussing your private life, even in the open square of Tønsberg.

With a gentle hand on your back, Loki led you forwards, your eyes still on the cobblestones while you attempted to get your bearings without being sick.

“Welcome back!” Brunnhilde’s voice carried across the harbour and you finally took the opportunity to take in your surroundings. In your haste to get away from the Avengers you had forgotten what had happened the last time you walked along the sea front of Tønsberg and suddenly it all came swimming back. The queasy feeling in your stomach intensified. “I worried we’d never see you hear again,” she strode across the sea soaked front, her arms wide and welcoming, “but we are happy to welcome you back.”

Thor opened his arms in return, beaming and ready to embrace the King of Asgard, but she bypassed him entirely and wrapped her arms around your middle, pulling you away from Loki and lifting your toes off the ground with the ferocity of her embrace.

“It’s good to see you as well, Brunnhilde.” The panic that had begun to rise ebbed away, and then there was another pressure at your back and Thor enveloped you in a bear hug, squeezing you into Brunnhilde.

“Loki’s little trouble maker, back in Tønsberg, I am so happy.” He thrilled, resting his cheek on top of your head and rubbing your arms. “I always wanted a sister-” he paused, “well, a sister that didn’t want to destroy everything -” You both went still as you remembered the prophecy left by Frigga. Thor floundered for words. “Anyway, we shall feast and drink and celebrate your return, I am sure. You are most welcome.”

“That’s quite enough,” Loki coughed, finding your hand again and guiding you, now slightly ruffled, back to his side. You stood on your tip toes and placed a wet kiss on his cheek, nuzzling him with your nose.

“Don’t be jealous,” you teased, and his arm around you tightened.

“Jealous? I am not jealous, I am concerned. I left you here once and -”

Jealous

You allowed the thought to float to him and watched as his eyes darkened.

I am not jealous of that oaf, merely protective. Surely that is allowed after two kidnapping attempts.

Brunnhilde’s eyes drifted from Loki to your face, watching as it dropped and your shoulders tensed, “-let’s not concern ourselves with the past. Let’s look to the future, come inside we just finished a council meeting so the hall is empty.” She turned and led the way towards the long hall, pulling her suit jacket tight around her middle against the biting wind whipping from the sea. While it’d been cold in America, here it was icy, but before you could shiver you felt the ring of Loki’s magic and a navy blue peacoat engulfed you, the inside already warm. You looked over at Loki, surprised that he wouldn’t put you in his own colours, and he merely smiled, looking out on the sea and pretending he hadn’t noticed your new attire, but you couldn’t help but notice the twinkle of emerald green in each shining button.

You looked out too, seeing the waves on the horizon cresting and falling, the gulls circling the frothing water and steadied yourself to take in Tønsberg with fresh eyes.

At your first visit, you’d visited Brunnhilde’s cottage, tucked away two streets back from the harbour, inconspicuous and modest. Now she was leading you towards the long, low building that stood in the centre of the main thoroughfare opposite the harbour. Above the door there was a symbol, tall lines forming a pyramid in a strangely familiar way.

Asgard’s Palace

Loki looked up too, taking your hand, this is the new symbol of Asgard and our rebuilt court. Welcome, Princess.

Princess. You hadn’t considered your role here either, that you weren’t just a visitor, but a royal visitor, at the pleasure of the Royal court, small as it was, modest as the Long Hall appeared. And your heart swelled with pride and belonging. Loki squeezed your hand again, the same pride reflected in his eyes.

You looked around again, viewing the village with fresh eyes.

Behind the village itself, building work had started on further homes and the dock, which on your previous visit only held a few fishing boats, was full of tourist vessels bobbing next to wooden row boats.

Thor opened the door of the long building, waving his arm for you to enter.

“Welcome to the Asgardian Court, Princess Estrid.” Thor bowed as you passed and you heard the unmistakable sound of Loki smacking him playfully on the back of the head as he followed.

Inside the hall was reassuringly simple and looked very much like the village halls you had seen once or twice during your time in London. The noticeboard was full of flyers for music lessons, hobby groups and items for sale, a few images of a village fete and a sign up list for organising events had a few scrawled names, but no contact details. You sighed in relief, half expecting to be thrown back into the excess of the Golden Palace alongside its rules and regulations. But life in the Long Hall seemed much more relaxed and familiar.

A few people were moving chairs around, stacking them at the edges of the room, calling to each other as they worked. The smell of brewing tea and freshly baked biscuits wafted from the open hatch to the kitchen where a group of older Asgardians carefully placed doilies on trays and arranged mugs.

The only out of place item was a blue and gold velvet curtain that decorated a dais at one end of the room. Even in the winter light the floor to ceiling windows let in enough light to make the gold brocade shine.

“Sorry, it’s - King stuff, you know?” Brunnhilde shrugged, almost embarrassed by the pdecadence of the set u[, and waved to another Asgardian in the kitchen, holding her hand up and mouthing drinking, a chorus of ‘just a minute’ responded and before you knew it there was a table set in the middle of the hall, drinks and food covering the surface.

“By Loki’s face I’m assuming this is more than a social call,” Brunnhilde asked, pouring a large cup of tea into a pint sized mug with Authentic Asgardian Mead printed on the side.

“Wise as ever,” Loki smiled, “we have come to ask you more questions about Estrid.” Under the table he took your hand, twining your fingers together. “We met another god, claiming to know her, he attempted to kidnap her and - we heard a prophecy.”

Brunnhilde lent into her chair, rocking it on its legs while Loki described your encounter during the Avenger’s mission and raising an eyebrow at his admission that a prophecy was involved.

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy, I thought she’d keep you out of trouble, not get you into more of it.” She grinned and Thor laughed, shaking his brother’s shoulder.

“She surely is Trouble,” Thor smiled indulgently, ruffling the top of your head.

“But Loki says he couldn’t see him, he was tall, he had this spear -” suddenly it all bubbled to the surface and you had to get it out, everything you’d seen, what had happened. Between sips of the tea that appeared in front of you, you told Brunnhilde everything.

“Lugh,” Brunnhilde said, thoughtfully, “it was a five pointed spear, correct?”

You both nodded and Brunnhilde rocked her chair again, “definitely Lugh, and he knew your mother? And that you should go with him?” She raised an eyebrow again before looking away thoughtfully.

“He said it over and over, he wanted me to go with him, and said it wasn’t safe for me.” The legs of her chair hit the floor with a thump.

“And now tell me about the prophecy.”

Loki took the marble from his pocket and placed the halves together again, releasing the voice of his mother into the room. The Asgardians fell silent, those still tidying from the council meeting stopped and bowed their heads at the memory of their fallen Queen.

“I saw a vision of a flock in chaos, a singular lamb frolicked in its midst, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.”

“Frigga,” Brunnhilde whispered, “she had many visions but, I can’t understand why you think this pertains to you?” She turned to you, studying your face. “We have no idea why Frigga sent this to Lugh, if you are the lamb mentioned or the girl. I do not see why he should be involved or concerned with you at all.”

“They were friends, were they not?” One of the villagers said from the kitchen, leaning through the hatch, “Lugh and Brigid, they were firm friends, often talking at the events. Frigga knew Lugh by associate as well. Perhaps that’s why?”

“Yes, yes,” another agreed. “He was always chatting to the women folk, a kind, gentle man, never married himself mind.” Another dropped off a plate of kanelbulle, the deep scent of cinnamon wafting down the table.

“Perhaps it’s time the girl heard all,” the time roughened voice came from behind you this time but there were many nods and noises of agreement throughout the room.

Brunnhilde looked uncomfortable, but settled in her chair nonetheless. “Your mother was married to a man called Bres, a god of sorts who joined with your mother’s pantheon, he even became King, for a time. He was a Midgardian god as Odin was, residing in a place called the Otherworld. He was deeply unpopular, I didn’t want to upset you, when you visited before, you and Loki looked so happy I - I’m sorry. I should have told you, he was not a well liked God, but I wanted to spare you. Your mother though,” a ripple of happy sighs and murmers fluttered around the room and you were instantly self conscious. “She was very well liked, she visited Asgard many times.”

“So… why did she marry this Bres? Is he my father?”

“They didn’t love each other did they?” Tears welled in your eyes, for all your fears that you’d be sold into a loveless, political marriage, it had never occured to you that this fate had already befallen your mother.

“No, I’m sorry, I believe that your mother, Brigid, loved another. Though I’m not sure who. But Bres is not your father, your mother was already pregnant, you see, when the marriage was arranged and you were born just before the ceremony. Your mother was a free spirit, she liked to travel and make friends, she brought back floral and fauna, stories and trinkets, art, crafts and, after a longer journey. You.”

The four of you sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating what Brunnhilde had said. Bres really should have been your father and, officially, he was. But your mother didn’t love him and they weren’t married when you were born - your head swam with new information.

“I remember.” A voice coughed behind you, stuttering through the passages of time, the stooped Asgardian shuffled around the table. Thor stood and offered her his seat, sliding the chair back into place and standing regally behind it.

“Please,” you reached your free hand across the table towards the woman, considering Loki was easily two thousand years old, the woman must have been ancient, her face creased with memories, her skin paper thin. “I remember you,” and the memory lit up her eyes, “Estrid, Brigidsdotter, you brought so much joy to the palace, small one. And your mother loved you very much, so much that she brought you many times to spare you from Bres.” At his name the woman looked angry, her lips pursing.

“She did?” Your eyes welled with tears, you had wondered why you were left on Asgard so much, how you’d come to know the Princes so well if your mother had loved you.

“My dear small one, you are young, you will learn, sometimes loss is its own kind of affection, she took that burden for you, to protect you.” She paused to cough and you offered her a cup of tea from the pot. “Thank you, always so kind - He was not kind though, he came to you once and there was such shouting as you have never heard, the palace rocked with the sound of it - and in the morning,” she coughed again, “you were gone, small one, the boys, they had forgotten it all.” She reached a hand up and Thor took it between his palms as gently as if he held a small bird.

“We forgot?” He asked.

“You all forgot, she made you, the Queen, it was for the best for you to forget, so that it would not hurt you to be separated. Especially you, Prince of Mischief.” He eyes twinkled as she smiled at Loki. “I assumed it was to hide you from Bres again, but then Odin sent out a party to search for you.” She hummed, eyes closing a second longer than necessary when she blinked.

“He wanted her back? Safe?” Loki asked.

“He wanted to imprison you I suppose.” She coughed and brought a handkerchief from the sleeve of her cardigan. “You,who had brought so much joy and so much trouble to his doorstep, he was afraid of you.” She laughed but it turned into another wet, painful, cough.

Loki shook his head, “how can that be, the Allfather, afraid of a girl -” he turned to you quickly, “no offence meant, my Darling,” he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers.

“No, of course, he is, was, the Allfather, how could he have feared me.” Confusion crossed your face and the old lady patted your hand.

“Small one, full of power, so much power you could not comprehend. The prophecy, it was about you and he feared you would bring Ragnarok if you stayed, you would burn the city with your magic and dance in the flames.” She shrugged, her cardigan sliding on her thin shoulders, and then took a draught of her tea, smacking her lips and reaching for a biscuit when she was done.

“But Ragnarok happened already, that’s why we’re here,” Loki scrunched his brow, “and it was Hela, it was nothing to do with Estrid.”

“Well maybe it was wrong, what do I know.” She patted Thor’s hand. “But I do know,” her eyes twinkled and if you didn’t know better, you’d say it was the same spark of mischief that Loki possessed, “I do know that Lugh,” she said his name like a sigh, one hand over her heart, “he was a kind man to all, and he loved your mother, so very much, that he would protect you, even now. He didn’t know how, of course, but he visited you once and Bres - well - as I say, it shook the palace.”

Tears were threatening again, you couldn’t help it, it was all too much, should you have gone with him? Trusted him? Had he kidnapped you or was it another? Your mind raced.

“I’m sorry, small one, I grow very weary, I am not as spritely as I once was.”

“Thank you, thank you so much.” You reached across the table to hug her, your senses filling with an instant calm, a forgotten memory of the Asgardian nursery, the school rooms billowing with chalk dust and the grey teacher who watched over your work. “Thank you.”

“Oh small one, it is my pleasure to see you so well again.” She smiled back, but tears didn’t come, instead her eyes looked milky and unfocussed, “I - Princess Estrid, what in the Nine Realms are you wearing - and Prince Loki, do unhand the young girl - I was - I was - look at the board -” she made a half turn, stumbling into Thor’s arms, “I must -”

Thor tucked her tiny arm in his and kept her upright, “I shall escort her home, I know the way.” He nodded at you all, “I trust we shall discuss this later?”

“Yes, of course brother, later.” Loki touched his elbow as he passed while you stared at the noticeboard again, silent tears spilling down your cheeks.

When you’d helped to tidy away the table and the other Asgardian ladies had fussed over you awhile, Loki decided it was time to retire and discuss all that had been revealed to you. He had watched you working, leaning against Brunnhilde’s throne, while they spoke in hushed voices about the prophecy.

Outside of the tall windows the night had drawn in quickly, the sun already below the horizon despite the fact it was only mid-afternoon. In the lamplight you could see thick flakes of snow passing in and out of the light.

“My darling,” Loki cooed, arms curling around your waist and his chin on your shoulder, “you work with my people is much appreciated, but I believe we should leave now, we have much to discuss.”

You nodded in agreement and said goodbye to your new Asgardian friends. They were friendly, happy people, relaxing into their new life as much as they could with the weight of their loss still hanging heavy over them. You remembered snippets of life in Asgard, but the sheltered palace and walled grounds were a world away from the casual court of this new land, and you had to admit you enjoyed it.

At the door of the long hall Loki waved his hand, alongside your coat, a matching hat and gloves appeared. His own fell around his knees, accentuating the long lines of his body, and he lifted the collar against the chill breeze shifting the airy snow across the doorstep.

Naturally, you fell into step next to each other, your arms linked and shoulders bumping together. You passed the turning for Brunnhilde’s road and suddenly your heart hammered, you had made it this far last time. You had walked from Brunnhilde’s home to the harbour’s edge, you’d watched the boats, far fewer boats then, bobbing in the waves, and now you were watching them creak against the crisp wind, snow icing their edges.

“You have nothing to fear, Asynja,” Loki assured, putting his arm around your waist instead. You had to walk slower, but you did feel safer this close to his body.

“I know -” you took a deep breath, watching it mist in the air as you exhaled, “I was alone before.”

“Though I’m truly sorry, beyond any words, that I was not here to escort you before, that isn’t what I meant.” He stopped you then and your heart beat wildly. The cottages were lit up in the darkness and you longed to be safe inside. “You have nothing to fear, anything out here stalking you now -” you hitched a breath, “- not that there is,” he cupped your cheeks, tipping your chin up. “There is nothing out here that your power cannot match, nothing that you cannot beat, you have no reason to fear, they should be afraid of you.” His eyes were ablaze, firm and proud.

“I don’t know about that, Loki, I-”

“Darling, you are Princess Estrid, daughter of Brigid, this is a magnificent lineage all of its own. I’ve seen what you can do, what your raw magic can create, you have nothing to fear.”

“Okay,” you weren’t entirely convinced, but Loki’s surety made you feel as if you could take on the world anyway, just as long as he was by your side.

“It seems I need to prove it to you further,” he stepped away from you, taking the coat he’d conjured with him and a chill ran up your spine, the flare of magic was as natural as the shiver itself, a heavy cloak and fur collar fell about you, fluffing up behind your neck to protect you from any further cold.

Loki smiled, the predatory smile he employed when he had been proved right, “without thought, my darling, you look truly regal, as you deserve to be.” He approached you again, holding his hand out and, as it touched yours, he allowed himself to exchange his modern peacoat for a matching robe.

“Do you believe me now, Princess?” He teased the question against your lips, pulling back when you leaned into him.

“Yes, I believe you.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Good,” Loki’s cold lips met yours, as all consuming as his belief in you, you tipped your head, deepening the kiss until your tongues slid together, noses brushing and the snow falling like glitter around you.

You stumbled over the threshold of Loki’s Tønsberg home intending to take in the details of his cottage, to learn more about him, to talk over the new information revealed at the long hall. But his lips on your neck, pushing the heavy fabric to the floor where it billowed into glittering magic at your feet, the overwhelming scent of him as he slammed the door behind you both and pressed you into the wall. You were incapable of thinking of anything else, of this god before you, a Prince, and you felt every inch the Princess he believed you could be. That sensation alone filled you with a burning desire.

“Loki,” you moaned and he groaned against your lips.

“Say my name,” he growled, “say it again.”

“Only if -” you panted, pulling away to drag your sweater over your head, “only if you call me Princess again.”

Loki’s eyes darkened, his smile feral as he loomed over you, one hand braced against the wall, his body hovering over yours, barely touching, the other traced your ear, down your cheek, to your lips. “You like when I call you Princess?” he purred, dragging your bottom lip with his thumb and you latched onto it, drawing the digit into your mouth and nodding. “Then who am I to deny you, Princess.”

“Ugh, Loki,” you sagged against the wall, reaching for his lapels and drawing him back into your kisses.

“That’s a good girl,” he swept you up in his kiss, lifting you into his arms and carrying you up the narrow stairs to his bedroom. Candles flickered as you passed, illuminating the room in a golden glow.

Loki’s bed was huge, taking up a large portion of the room with its posts and swathes of emerald velvet. He’d placed you on an equally luxurious blanket, but you could feel the cold slick of silk behind you.

He prowled towards you, crowding you backwards into the pillows and crushing your lips together again. Your hands sought the hard planes of his chest, ripping the buttons from his shirt and revealing the dips of his muscles to your hungry eyes.

“I need you so badly, fuck -” you dug your hands into his hair, needing something, anything, to ground you.

“Darling,” his chest rumbled with each breath, his kisses deep and languid.

You weren’t sure whose magic removed the rest of your clothes, but you knew when you could feel the hard length of him against your thigh that this was exactly where you needed to be, where you had always belonged. You canted your hips against him, trying to gain any friction to quell the aching between your legs.

“My Princess,” he looked down at you, his eyes full of emotion and lust, blurred together into an intoxicating cocktail, you shivered again, your own slick mixing with the precum leaking onto your leg. “Are you going to keep being a good girl for me?” He asked, nosing at the sensitive spot on your neck, licking over the pulse.

“Do you want me to be good?” You teased back, wrapping your legs around his hips.

It took him a moment to answer while he took in your prone form, spread below him in the candlelight, sparking with magic, before he met your eyes again, notching the head of his cock at your entrance.

“No, I don’t,” he grinned. “I want you to be bad, I want you to be naughty, my Goddess, my Asynja, I want you to be wicked and cruel and ruthless. I want you to take exactly what you want from me."

You clawed at his back, leaving red tracks on his porcelain skin while he snarled with lust, sheathing himself inside of you.

He was animalistic, growling as he set a punishing pace, his forehead pressed to yours.

You gripped his hips, using them to pull yourself closer, rolling your body to meet his with every thrust.

“Loki - ugh - My Prince!” You cried out, your stomach tightened, clenching around his hard length.

That feral smile returned and he slowed his movements, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him until you were seated in his lap, his cock, so deep, you could swear you could see the outline of him. His hands found your waist again, urging you to begin moving.

“My Prince,” you panted, squeezing your eyes closed at the sheer bliss of being so close to him, so connected you could feel his heartbeat inside of you.

“My Princess,” Loki sat up to kiss you, his muscles flexing, sweat dipping into each rivulet, “I want you to take your pleasure, my darling, let me be your throne, tell your court your wicked desires.”

With a moan you kissed the smile from his face, devouring him, his words like a match to tinder in your veins. And you moved. So slowly it was almost painful, teasing the length of him from your body, feeling the drag of each deliciously, thick inch against your fluttering walls, before lowering yourself again, hands on his chest, head tipped back in sheer ecstasy.

“That’s it, use my body for your pleasure, sit upon your throne.” He cried as he came hard inside you to the feel of your pulsing walls and tightening fingers.

As he rolled you over again you were sure you could get used to being a Princess.

<<Chapter 16

Chapter 18 >>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #loki fic #loki god of mischief #loki laufesyon x reader #loki of asgard #loki of jotunheim

96 notes · View notes