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a-mint-bear · 9 months ago

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Her Favorite Employee

Female Yandere x Female Reader

You're the personal assistant of your company's CEO. She's controlling, married to her job, and runs you ragged. But you're good at your job, and she loves to let you know how much she appreciates you.

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"What's on my schedule for this afternoon?"

A quick recap of what was on the docket for that day as you dropped off her coffee order. Soon she’d be in back to back meetings while you handled her calls and made the rounds to the various teams she oversaw. Same as most mornings.

“Wonderful. Make sure to have the Hillmore reports on my desk by three, and send a nice gift basket to Reynolds in Sales. His wife just had twins.”

You told her the reports would be done before her lunch with R&D, and you’d already sent a basket with her name on it two days ago which included a gift certificate to a local spa for the new mother.

“I knew you’d be on it.” She smiled into her coffee. “Much obliged, love.”

You nodded behind your tablet, trying not to be obvious about your lack of eye contact. It was torture when she called you that.

It was a lot, working under her. But at the same time, it was oddly… fulfilling. She gave you so many responsibilities and trusted, more expected, you to come through. Every time.

Not even six months ago you'd been just another employee. It was a decent job; Good pay and benefits, and the work was easy enough, the hours sucked sometimes but it wasn't like you had a rich social life it was cutting into.

You didn’t make any friends in the office, you weren’t sure any of your coworkers even knew your name. To them, you were just “that one girl who refills the paper in the copier”. Because someone has to, and you work with a bunch of animals who think that the paper just magically replenishes itself. Now you were “The Boss’ secretary”, that was at least more respectable? Maybe?

But before you were her assistant, you were just her “favorite employee”. And that was more trouble than it was worth.

She didn’t care much for being called by her surname like most of the superiors in the company, but no one was brave enough to call her by her given name. So most in the company just called her Boss or Miss. And she liked it that way. You were pretty sure she just liked how intimidating it made her seem.

She was always around. At first, you thought it might've been because she was your boss. She was probably just trying to see if you were any good at your job, maybe looking for a reason to fire you if she noticed anything off. But ever since you were hired, it just kept happening. Your first days in the office quickly turned into weeks and she was still circling you for seemingly no reason.

You could excuse it to yourself, maybe she was the micromanaging type. But her attention always seemed to be on you, almost exclusively, more than anyone else in the office. And it was… intimidating. For a couple of reasons.

She seemed to love… picking on you, if you could call it that. Any extra projects she needed done? You were her first choice. Fixing the new guy's botched paperwork before a big deadline? You were on it, of course. Overtime? Yup, you. It would be more annoying if you weren't getting paid really well. But you always got it all done, ahead of schedule, without any complaints.

And if she wasn't being oddly petty, she was being… oddly flirty.

Sitting on the edge of her desk when she talked quarterly reports over with you. Leaning a little too close when she took something off your desk. Her fingers brushed yours when you handed her things. A bump to your arm with hers here, a touch to your shoulder there… Every time you wondered if you were just imagining things, it happened again. She never did anything overtly inappropriate or pushed past any sign you were uncomfortable, but the truth was… you weren’t. It was a bit much to have this beautiful woman pay so much attention to you, but you weren’t going to lie, it wasn’t… the worst thing in the world.

It contrasted hard with her usual put-together image, prim and proper and out of reach from the mere mortals in the office. But as far as you’d noticed, she didn’t act this way in front of anyone else in the office. And you didn’t know what to do with that information.

You weren’t sure if any of it was on purpose, or if she was just flirtatious by nature. It was always hard to tell with women, as a woman. Was she into you? Was she even attracted to women?? Or did she get her jollies by flustering the office loner?

She stayed just as late as you most nights, if not longer. And checked up on you. And chatted with you when she had a minute. You just didn't get why. You weren't anyone special. And she was so…

She was gorgeous, always so well put-together and stunning. You'd never met a woman who was so beautiful it made you nervous, like a dumb teenager. But it couldn't outweigh how much she got on your nerves with how she was always in your business, so the conflicting emotions just made for long, exhausting workdays.

If she knew you were annoyed with her, she never let it show. But it wasn't long before you realized just why she'd been watching you so closely.

One day, all the creeping around and odd attention she was paying you started to make sense. The Boss Lady called you into a meeting with herself and the head of H.R. and just…

Offered you a promotion. Just like that.

"I've been really impressed by your work ethic.” She was being so poised and professional, every word out of her mouth sounded so assured, even though you were very much a deer in the headlights at the moment. “I need someone with a work/life balance that matches my own and can work with my schedule to be my personal Executive Assistant. Your hours would increase, but there will be a significant pay raise and company benefits.”

And boy, what a significant pay raise it was. You'd have to be a complete idiot to turn it down. It meant more responsibilities in the company and you'd be expected to dress up a bit more for appearance's sake, but a few suit jackets and skirts with nice dress shoes would be more in your price range now. It would mean spending A LOT more time with her though, and you weren't sure if your weak heart could take the damn near constant presence of this woman.

But maybe, SOMEHOW, it really was all in your head. Maybe the proximity to her while she was vetting you for the position just had you all mixed up?

Maybe the money was making you too eager to accept, but accept you did.

And it was normal, or as normal as things could be around that place, at least for a little while.

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You were scheduling some meetings for her and logging them in her calendar when another co-worker knocked on your office door.

“Oh hey, do you have a minute?”

You recognized them… You didn’t remember their full name but everyone called them Jay.

They started a few months after you did, and they seemed nice enough. Right now they looked a little out of sorts, which was unusual. They were usually the cool, flirty, sporty type who was good friends with everyone, not an awkward bone in their body. The two of you weren’t friends or anything, but there was no bad blood between the two of you.

You asked them what was up, and it took them a minute before finally spitting it out.

“Okay, so… totally tell me to screw off if I’m barkin’ up the wrong tree here.” It was kind of funny seeing them so nervous. “Would you wanna… go to dinner tomorrow?”

Without thinking, you pulled up your planner, asking if there’d been an email you’d missed about some team-building thing. But they just laughed.

“No, I meant… Just you and me.”

You froze, wondering if you had heard right. You cut to the chase, asking if they meant like a date?

“We don’t have to call it a date, if you don’t want to!” They held up their hands defensively, like you were someone they were worried about offending with this. You wondered how people saw you around here for them to be so nervous. Or maybe they just… really liked you that much. “But… yeah. I wanted to ask you out.”

You gave it a moment to sink in.

You weren’t automatically thinking of saying no. Did that mean you wanted to say yes? They were tall and attractive, in a “soft beanpole with a cute haircut” kind of way. They looked good in their usual button up with the rolled-up sleeves, and pulled the look off better than half the people around the office. The opposite of your very feminine boss. Looks-wise they were nothing alike, but both had the same confident, assertive air about them. Maybe that was appealing to you, and Jay was just as much your type as the Boss was.

You scolded yourself. Why were you thinking about her? Now?

At the end of the day, you didn’t see any reason to say no. It could be a nice time. This stupid not-a-crush you had on your boss was never going to go anywhere, so why not try and see someone who went out of their way to ask you out? If it didn’t work out, you would handle it like an adult.

Jay looked nervous that you’d been thinking for so long. You told them you had a pretty packed schedule, but if you could get a night off, it would be nice to have dinner with them tomorrow. You half-jokingly told them that if it went well, you’d slap the “date” label on it. Their cheeks went a bit red, but they were grinning ear to ear.

“Cool!” They laughed, a bit too loud before catching themself, playing it cool. “I mean uh… That sounds good. Let me know.”

They quickly left, muttering to themself to “keep it together”, probably thinking you couldn’t hear. It was kind of cute, in a weird way. Maybe they were shyer than you’d originally thought.

But now came the hard part. Getting a night off.

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“No, that won't do.” She didn’t even look up from her computer.

That’s all she had to say to your request. At first, you felt disappointed but you were ready to just turn around and leave, accepting it. But this was just... bothering you. You piped up, trying to reason with her. Her schedule was free tomorrow night and you were a week ahead on all the reports she’d put you in charge of. You hadn’t had a night off in a few weeks.

And you’d never complained. You’d even kind of liked the challenge, the effort you put into your work gave you purpose. Working as her personal assistant was the most rewarding job you’d ever had. And you even told her so.

So why?

She sighed, she seemed almost… annoyed?

“I heard some chatter in the hall this afternoon.” She just kept typing away. “Someone was asking about restaurant recommendations for a big date. They seemed excited about having finally asked out the CEO’s assistant. And that they were so surprised she’d said yes.”

So she knew? She knew you were asking for a night off for a date? What did that have to do with anything? But you kept quiet for the moment, wondering where she was going with this.

“Maybe it’s my fault.” she sighed, sitting back in her plush office chair. “I was too…generous. I wanted to make you feel comfortable working for me so I let you do what you wanted. I can admit to my mistakes.”

Generous? By working you like a dog day in and day out? By keeping you from doing something as simple as going on a date with someone who was interested in you?

You asked her why. Why was she so against you having a life? Why was she doing this?

You knew it was a bad-no, a super bad idea to be mouthing off to your boss. Possibly career-ending. But you’d done so much for her, every day for months on end and never letting her down no matter how difficult or grueling the task. And she couldn’t even give you this one night off?

You needed a reason.

“Oh, it’s quite simple.” She smiled her usual stunning smile. But you weren’t going to let it get to you this time. No ma’am. But as she got up from her desk, coming around to stand too damn close, you felt your resolve slipping.

“From the day you started working here, I knew I wanted to keep you by my side.”

As an employee, right?

. . .

Right??

“You were… quite the sight.” she sighed, a dreamy smile as she looked at you from beneath her long, dark lashes. “So put off by everyone. Always on your own. Uninterested. Unengaged. Unmotivated. At first I just wanted to frazzle you, make you lighten up a bit. You seemed so isolated, I figured a strong personality like mine would rub you the wrong way. But you had such an… interesting reaction.”

The both of you knew what she meant. The blushing, the nervous energy, all the times you tried so hard to act like you weren’t bothered by her attention. And most likely failed miserably.

“I saw how hard you worked. I could see your untapped potential. You were exactly what I needed. I knew I had to make you mine.”

You told her you didn’t understand. And maybe that was a lie. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from racing. She… wasn’t talking about work anymore, was she?

“I made you my assistant. You’re by my side, day in and day out. And… I thought that would be enough to satisfy this feeling. This... need. But it just wasn’t. And when I heard someone had taken an interest in you, I found myself quite…”

The intensity in her eyes felt so suffocating.

”Infuriated.”

You couldn't help but flinch when she laid her hands flat on your chest, just below your collar bone. Her touch burned itself into you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. It felt like she’d devour you if you did.

“No one…” She grabbed you by your collar and yanked you closer, whispering in your ear. You hated the shiver it sent up your spine. “No one will ever take you away from me. Not another company. Not another department. And certainly not some little upstart from Sales.”

… She wasn’t talking about work anymore.

“If someone else took you from me... there would be no point in any of this. This job. It was so… stuffy and boring before you came along. Every day was just office politics and saying the right things to the right people.” She loosened her grip, straightening the collar on your suit jacket with an airy, light touch. “But you… You changed something. So I brought you to my side. And I’ve been watching, getting to know all about you. You play down your talents so you don’t draw any attention. But you can’t help yourself. What you want more than anything is for someone to say they appreciate you, that they need you.”

She had to know how this sounded, right? She almost sounded like…

“And I do.” She held your face in her hand, her thumb grazing your cheek so gently you could’ve convinced yourself her touch wasn’t real. “I need you, love. Without you, none of this means anything.”

Your breathing was shaky, you never imagined that this would- could ever happen in a million years.

She drew you closer, a soft gasp slipping out when you realized just how close. If anyone else popped in, it would be completely obvious what was going on. But you didn’t push her away. If anything, you wished she would just close the gap and take it out of your hands.

“So what do you say?” She whispered in your ear, the warmth of her breath making you feel weak. “Are you mine?”

As if you could say anything else.

Yes, Miss.

It was so soft a response that you weren’t sure you’d said it out loud until you saw her smile. A finger to your lips, she laughed. Not her usual teasing, mischievous laugh when she was trying to get a reaction out of you. It was sweet, delighted and charming.

She was so close, her breath on your lips, her lashes just barely brushed your cheek.

“And I'm yours, love.”

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this one has been a long time coming, writing femme yanderes is difficult lol

this y/n ended up being a lady, and it didn't come into play much. but the hypercompetent assistant girl in love with her powerful boss lady is a wlw pairing near and dear to my heart.

Boss Lady's tentative full name is Lenora. she doesn't care for it, she goes by Nora. i originally gave her a last name to be called by in the story to make her seem more imposing, but it came off as awkward, like she has a name, but i didn't want her to be known by an unimportant surname

Jay started off as a lady, but i wrote her as more androgynous and it felt right to make them nb instead. it helped keep the reader's sexuality more ambiguous. i wanted to write them as wlw, but not strictly a lesbian. but she reads very much as a "useless lesbian" trope lol. Boss lady had to flirt with her for literal months on end before y/n caught on

i don't quite know how old Boss Lady is, i imagine her as late 30s, very early 40s, and there could be an age difference here, but it's not a necessary part of the story.

this Boss Lady COULD be the same Boss Lady as the one in Boss Lady has a House Spouse, sometime in the future of their relationship. maybe y/n gets burned out or quits for some reason and then becomes a domestic partner. But Boss Lady who obsesses over her employee was imagined as a separate Boss Lady originally. you can never have too many boss ladies.

and that header. i've said it before that editing the femme yandere headers is so awkward because the office lady ones just turn into their chests in tight button-downs lol

*whispers* would you guys find it weird if she called the reader "good girl"? 'cause i almost included it at the end there but thought it might be a bit much. i have a problem✌️

#female yandere #female yandere x y/n #female yandere x reader #yandere #yandere girl #femme yandere #yandere imagines #minty writing #girl yandere #female yandere x female reader #female reader #wlw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere female #Boss Lady #femme yandere x femme reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n

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kooyabooya · 9 months ago

Text

HIERARCHY

dahyun x m reader

9k words

(shoutout to @passingnotions for allowing me to adapt this idea <3)

“I have her here waiting at the desk if you’re ready to see her, sir.”

“Perfect. Send her up.”

It’s peculiar for these kinds of rumors to circulate given her status - and even when the sounds of her heels click off against the polished tiles and get gradually louder; until she steps past the open door and into the oval office, you still can’t put together why she’s a controversial topic in the first place.

“I’m glad that we can finally have this arrangement,” you say, glancing over the more she makes her presence known, “Overseer.”

It’s as simple as it sounds:

She’s the regulator. You’re the higher-up. It’s your job to assess, determine, and take action.

And the roles exist for a reason, and every system has its necessary balance. Nobody gets out of line, and nobody ever questions the orders that come from the superiors. Everything feels right in its place, between the people and where this institution stands, but there’s one catch that you’ve sought yourself to see out personally, after hearing some peculiar commentary building up with various faculty members.

This very woman standing in your quarters exudes this infectious aura that sweeps up the whole room. In the case of the students, it would send a chill down their spine, get a few beads of sweat to form in the palms of their hands and foreheads - a quick breath beneath their lips as they tense up because despite not being the main person in trouble, and she makes them feel that way regardless.

“I would like to know why you asked to see me in the first place,” she says, face stoic as she settles into the seat, gaze locked with yours, “Hopefully this isn’t about what we discussed the other time, is it?”

Something in the way that she sits, and how the two-piece set of her dress rests along the line of her shoulders, how her eyes dart through yours when you’ve caught yourself staring a bit longer than expected. Make the goosebumps along your arms stand up underneath the sleeves.

“It’s partly that,” you answer, pinching the edge of your cuff, hoping to divert the attention of death staring in your direction. “Among other things.”

“Meaning what, sir?”

Breaking eye contact, the formality alone snaps some composure into you. To recap: you’ve been in and out of meetings all day, talking about future plans to implement amongst the student body and faculty; then there was some discrepancies that was dealt with from past incidents brought to your desk, but the common thread from these accounts all pointed to the same thing:

“It’s about your recent-” the pause alone of the intended word hanging between your lips makes the Overseer puzzled about this discussion (though with the implications through the reports sitting on your desk, tell a different tale).

“-modes of conduct.” You tell her, which only earns a quirked eyebrow and a nod, signaling that you’re right. “I’m sure you’ve heard what’s been going around between the other staff members and what not, Dahyun.”

Even the name alone sometimes sends chills to your body. Overseer Kim Dahyun: the academy’s best instructor. Lead figure when it comes to dishing out disciplinary measures to those who were stupid enough to go against the rules. Once she has someone that’s out of order, it’s automatically assured that there won’t be any further incidents coming from them moving on. You’ve looked at the written reports, noticed that there’s nothing worth putting against someone like her with the reputation that she carries, but no one ever really stays perfect for this long.

“So tell me, Superior,” Dahyun begins, one leg over the other in her chair while you continue with the glacial pacing around the office, “What is it that you have heard about me, circling around with the other staff in the past weeks?”

“I guess it’s mainly the latter, the ‘forms’ of discipline you’ve been committing with various students.”

“What about them?”

“That's the reason why I’m having this discussion with you in the first place.”

Dahyun tilts her head down, eyes wandering the opposite direction, reflecting almost as her mind tries to piece the different shards of information rummaging about in her head. She’s one to not leave anything unchecked - down to the minute detail possible. Intricate in the way that she does her line of work, and meticulous with how she wants things to be done. She also gets along well with others to which they speak highly of her. You wouldn’t want to call these accounts ‘accusations’; not yet, until you’ve seen both ends of the scope before drawing up a solid conclusion.

She turns her head around to see you at the tray table next to the door, tending to the two glasses of water before a wave to the keypad locks the deadbolt into place, to ensure privacy and know that someone will eventually knock without even going to the front desk in the first place. “This is a first for me, especially coming from you, questioning my methods.”

“I don’t see what you mean,” you tell her, making peace with the glass in your left hand to which she accepts, “I’m only aware of the stories that were told in recent weeks.” Dahyun acknowledges with a sip, eyes still trained on you now on the other side of your desk, “Let this be a simple conversation between you and I, please.”

“Okay then,” she remarks, handing back the empty glass once she’s done with it, “I’ll ask this again: What is it that you’ve heard about me that caused this whole debacle in the first place?”

Her look shifts up, maintaining her posture, hands resting on her lap. There’s a few strands in her hair that look out of place, but most of it is neatly tied up in the bun hanging low behind her head. She knows that she holds this sort of entitlement, this status - even from the glances alone in all sorts of seriousness tell you not to mess with a woman like her if you were a student.

But you’re not.

The lift from her eyebrows, above the upper rims of her glasses, prompting you to answer. It’s all in your head, right there, the only problem is how the delivery is going to hit her. You have every right to feel bad to be the bearer of not-so-good news, but it’s the part of the job, and the more you stand there in silence with her looking up waiting for a reply, adds on the slow building tension in the room.

You’re reminded however, of the actions she committed.

“We have an issue, technically it’s not really an issue, yet.” Dahyun’s gaze twists at that, but it isn’t a look of clear confusion, moreso thrown off at the very topic of discussion. She scoffs, slightly amused, and you can’t blame her for giving that reaction. “Though it’s been brought to my attention in the past few days.”

And in terms of issues, there’s hardly any throughout the academy; thanks to the dedication towards molding the best and brightest students into civilized beings for the real world. Most of these incidents come at a scarce occurrence alone - but it still happens even if it’s an ordinary day throughout the week.

She blinks twice, maybe thrice, turns her head away, fixated on the edge of the desk still. Her hands mold together with a small unease, but she still looks empathetic with how her eyelids flutter in the small lines of breaking light past the windows.

“So say it then,” she says, tone flat - like in her lectures or when having a one-on-one conversation with a troubled student outside the hallways, “since you’re always so on top of the loop with the faculty here.”

The prompting. It’s so on brand for her to be like this - to set someone else up as a way for them to keep their attention, carrying on with the conversation till she finally has that satisfaction with the answer. There’s some admiration for her, in the way that she doesn’t back down from a disagreement, because she’ll always see it through no matter what the circumstance may be. It’s her strength, and also her weakness, but she’s good enough to not let it show on her face.

At some point you were afraid of her, something that you can admit to yourself from a long while ago. Not a lot of people at the academy even really liked her because she’s extremely intimidating, and that still seems to be the case now. Though, with all of the different events spread out across the place, some of the roses were given in her effort to come out of her shell which she takes your encouragement. It’s in those rare moments where she laughs or smiles, like a blue moon passing in the night sky.

You remember the task at hand, what needs to be done.

“It’s about the students,” you tell her, air slipping through your upper lip as a way of preparation, “I’ve been told by a few individuals that you’ve been having an affair with one of them.”

“What!?”

“This is all just speculation,” you say, settling into your chair as Dahyun keeps her posture upright and composed, “Hence you being here to tell me your side of the story so that we can try to line up the two different perspectives together.”

“That’s what this is about?”

“Dahyun.” That sense of professionalism has to be cared for. An eye to the desk to the few different reports that insinuate a wrongful framing; some of them were just verbal accounts and had to be on the record, but the whistleblower tip in the form of a post-it note already caused quite a stir around the teachers lounge.

“All of this is unbelievable.” She plucks her glasses away from her face, catching a few wisps fall out from their spot on the top of her head, clearly irritated. “I have- I have not. In no way those accusations are true.”

You pull your lips inward, trying to be sympathetic as much as possible in addition to being transparent. Her eyes darted back at yours, fully interested as to what you might say next. She expects an answer, and you’ll give it to her, but all you do is raise an eyebrow to where she scrunches her eyes in response.

“Are you sure?” To that, Dahyun rolls her eyes. You notice a quick pull from one of the corners of her lip, shuffling the small stack of files off to the side, leaning closer with both elbows on the wood. “I hope you realize that if you are withholding information from me, it can lead to harsher consequences.”

Dahyun clasps her hand to a fist, face still as stone as you watch her eyes sweep across the floor. A heavy bundle of air leaves your chest, keeping your gaze locked to her, waiting for an answer within the next moments or so. She knows that she can’t shy away from this, and she knows that the only direction to take is the one where truth is the sole passage. It’s also very interesting the way she doesn’t falter, sheltering her emotions inside. You’ve only seen her be the opposite of that - only once, a spell ago, and you were convinced that it was only a one time thing. The silence seems to get louder in the room, and she finally shifts her eyes back to you.

“Well?” you ask, to break the tension a bit, “You’re not my enemy here. I just want you to be as open and honest as possible.”

You can see the slightest clench at the bottom of her jaw, gritting her teeth behind her lips. There’s that thought of clear common sense, telling you that what she did was wrong, but that’s just one side of the story. Sure, that someone who created the rumor might’ve done it out of spite, or maybe they wanted to see Dahyun in a state of panic just for the fun of it. Some will say one thing, and others will say another. The only way that you’ll know for sure to make all of this go away is the personal statement directly from her.

“Overseer.” You huff, sighing out of pure annoyance.

Her brows crunch in response to the title.

“I need to know. That’s all I’m requesting of you right now.”

She sets herself square on the seat, facing you; she’s matching your height now in a sitting position, but despite the lack in length is replaced with the demeanor that she carries. There’s been some sort of competition thrown around by the students, talking about how Dahyun’s figure comes second to none with the likes of Jihyo or Mina to name a few. Gawking at the fellow staff members who caught wind of the conversation is what you give them, and it would take a metric fuck-ton of persuading to spill an answer out of your lips.

Still no answer from her as of this second.

“Overseer Dahyun,” voice now in a much lower register than usual to punctuate the gravity of the situation, “We don’t have all day; so either you fess up now, or I’ll carry on this conversation tomorrow if I’m not going to get it out of you today.”

Running her upper lip inward, you carry on with the scattered paperworks spread across the desk as she contemplates, unwilling to make eye contact with her while she keeps her eyes focused on you. By all expectations, you were hoping that this meeting would be quick and easy; just get the required information before writing up a report and be on your way. Still, you can’t help but think as to why she’s being so reluctant about saving her status let alone her job - all because she didn't do something that had very little significance to her and became such a big deal.

“Fine,” you say, slapping the pen lightly on the desk before beginning to stand up from the chair, “Just forget that I asked and you can-”

“One.” she finally says, after what felt like an eternity it seems. And then again, “One.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” you start, falling back onto the seat; Dahyun collects herself with the subtle rise and fall of her chest, breathing carefully. That crucial first step was already taken, and the plan in your mind to diminish this whole controversy is slowly scaffolding into place. “So I’ll ask this once again in a different way: Are you having an affair with one of the students in the academy?”

“Yes.”

“Is it…just the one?”

“Just the one.”

Despite how this information may be shocking to a degree, composure has to be kept from this point on. You’re just simply doing your job as the superior, and if this doesn’t get solved quickly, there’s more people in higher places than you that will do what you couldn’t.

“So,” you set yourself up for the next connecting inquiry, “I want a full explanation for this, as to when and how all of this came to be.”

Dahyun licks her lips, unsure if what she’ll say next will either be her saving grace or a shortsighted opportunity breeding on disappointment. You can easily tell that she’s uneasy, and it’s very impressive at how she’s able to keep an expressionless face for an instance like this. Put anyone else that works here in her seat and situation, they’d all panic or break a sweat pleading for an appeal to save their own skin. To hell with the fading wish for an interesting day every few weeks or so - because this potential scandal might make the whole week or even the whole year.

“Alright,” she relaxes, finally letting her body release all of the tension while she flutters her eyes back to you, “For the record, he came to me. It was-” a quick look to the side before subduing the sudden impulse coursing through her neck, “It was supposed to be a simple form of disciplinary action. A one time thing. Had him serve the correction and be on his way. Though, you’re very familiar with, well- you know, the methodology.”

“I see, and it took you that long to tell your side of the story??” Swallowing the small lump in your throat growing as her eyes fail to leave yours. “But let me guess, he-”

“He wanted to see me. Actually, he wanted to keep seeing me. I asked him as to why one day, and he was just fascinated with the approach that I do; he just wanted the pleasure for himself and as for me, I reveled in the satisfaction of taking advantage of him.”

“And you found it to be completely appropriate for this little entanglement to keep on happening?”

Dahyun then leans forward, and thank Christ you managed to save your wandering eyes from leering a second too late at the overflowing swarm of pale thighs ballooning on the cushion as more and more skin is revealed at the help of that tight light blue dress getting hiked up with the press of her legs. The inquisitive angle of her head at the given question, letting a stray wisp of her hair fall from the side before she drags it back behind the cuff of her ear. “So what are you saying?”

“Well, I’m the one who asked you first,” you answer, twiddling the pen around your fingers, maintaining eye contact with her. “Besides, I’m also not the one stuck in the middle of this debacle in the first place anyway.”

She sighs, head cocked back, almost vexed that this meeting has gone way longer than intended. You could’ve waited until after hours once all of the students had left the campus, but this was also the best possible convenient time because of the gap in her schedule during the regular day. Her lips stay shut, the soft tick of the clock mounted on the wall keeps on going. Maybe raising a white flag in the means of things might be better for today, and you’ll pick up where you left off tomorrow.

Most days don’t often go this way. Aside from the usual responsibilities throughout the typical day whether it would be out your desk or out and about peeping in different classrooms, you’re slightly ecstatic for the sudden change in pace around these halls. “I digress,” you say, leaning forward before finally carrying on, “So as your superior, Overseer, I’ll leave it off with this. Do you have anything else left to say before I draft up a report for all of the parties affected?”

Dahyun crosses her left leg over the other, clutching the glasses in her hand, her head tilts at that same right angle as earlier. The gaze she has is unchanging, staring at you right in the face while you’re quickly examining the two sheets of paper placed next to each other on the desk, sliding them away into the pile as you stand up off the chair. You’ll take this meeting as a win, at least some of the information was suitable enough to your liking for now. With all that done and over with–

“Still no answer?” You ask, fingers dancing along the button of your cuff, carefully threading it through the small slit, “Don’t make me ask this again–”

“No.”

“No?”

“I told you. No.”

“Really now?”

“I have already made my case with you, sir. There’s nothing else left for me to say for the time being.” she answers with a shrug to her shoulders.

Dahyun’s throat tenses when she sees the once needling eyes from you become quickly disinterested with her return. Incompetence was a sheer rarity with the way you operate your role, let alone a hindrance that you see in other people. Like the rest, it wouldn’t be long for everyone to get whipped into the ‘new regime’ all those years ago; some stimulating commentary at the time, but everyone understood once the policies were put into place.

Though, this meeting has gone long enough, and keeping her here wouldn’t really do anyone good at this point.

“Consider this conversation to be over, then,” you say, turning your body to the window panes set behind your desk, looking out at the moving trees in the breeze. “You’ll hear from me within the next few days so, carry on until you’re notified.”

She then stands too, hand clasping to her wrist, subjectively giving you a nod with your back turned, seeing her out of your peripheral vision. The emotionless look that’s her only mask, unimpressed and cold, as if nothing ever phases her in the tiniest of mishaps. You know that she’s just like the rest, despite wearing that facade like if life were to depend on it, part of you wants to break her- to tear up that infuriating fray of nothingness, spark some kind of fear into her core that would have her screaming, beg for a twinge of mercy.

Reading those accounts of what she did with that student, wasn’t supposed to make you interested, but it is. A worthy head-scratcher for someone like her to have a few screws loose every now and then. It just didn't add up, for her to treat this so pointlessly.

Even when she starts to bundle her feet together, swiveling them across the tile, she still carries this peculiar gracefulness in her step as her profile sweeps out of the picture - her back coming into view. She’s put up with that facade against you for so long, you know that it’ll be easy for her to comply in her case because it’s not in her nature for her to defy orders.

A turn of the head signifies a chance out of desperation; a lifeline, and you’ll give her the luxury of deciding her fate.

“And one more thing,” you setup, rolling the sleeves of your shirt to the elbow, to where Dahyun turns her body the long way round, hands behind her back, waiting for the next thing to leave your lips, “I’ll be perfectly blunt with you because I know that you clearly know better.”

Her forehead twitches at the cause of her brows bridging against each other. You see the small nick of her head that also shows the acknowledgement she’s willing to give you, both ears and eyes trained on you once the spread of your fingertips rest on the polished bark.

“You’re aware of this academy’s policies when it comes to relationships among peers, it’s basically frowned upon,” you tell her lowly, “Let alone of the fact that you’ve been having this intolerable amount of behavior out of the false guise of indignancy.” She starts to internalize this short reproachment you’re dishing out on her, watching as her eyes expand by the passing second, “Now, I’ve could’ve let this be handled by the high council, but they’ve gave the chance to me in order to see if I can get this incident resolved without having any further escalating conflicts.”

She parts her lips, wanting to take the opportunity at clearing her name, but she holds back since there’s that hanging impression of ‘what’s there left to be said once everything is put on the table?’ And even so, would anything serve to be better in the good graces of innocence for her case?

So she says nothing. Forever holding her peace while you audibly scoff at her. “I expected better from you, Overseer, I really did.”

It takes the next few seconds to re-organize your workstation, she hangs herself in limbo, gathering her thoughts as the window to save herself starts to close smaller and smaller, and she finally takes the sealed fate into her hands.

“If I may,” she says, diverting your attention from the desk back to her - hesitant to the point where you can rightfully assume that she’s eager to finally set everything straight: “I’d like to formally tender my resignation here at the Academy.”

A bold move, Overseer, but a surprise one too-

“On what grounds?” you ask, clearly taken aback with the sudden course of action by her own admission. “I don’t really see to understand while you would go to such lengths for this little incident-”

“Because I will admit to you, Superior, that I saw that student out of my own volition. I’ve made the effort to set time aside from my schedule so that he and I could have our private meetings in my office; for the sake of his pleasure and for my sake of being able to satisfy those kinds of requests for him.”

This tidbit of honesty coming out serves as a great reaction to your scolding, and not a lot of people get the credit they deserve trying to convince a person like Dahyun, but luckily you’re the one - if not the only one to have that ability in advising her. You always believed that she’d come around in some way or another, considering that this was the very first big fuck up from her too.

“Superior.” The name alone brings you back. “Please, consider my resignation. And I’ll make all of this go away.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why can’t you?” Her voice is strained, a fist at the side of her thigh, nails deep into her palm enough to draw blood, “I have to do this. I need to do this, sir. Please, let me-”

You can see the desperation start to break through the cracks of her stoic persona, inching closer to where you want her to be. She can play the cool, level-headed teacher all she wants, but you know that this whole fiasco was her doing; like anyone else, they’ll do anything to make things right, no matter the cost. Then the getting ahead starts to seep through your frontal lobe: what she’ll start asking for next, the kinds of lengths she’ll commit to if you’re not the one to throw the figurative lifeline at her.

Not just yet, guiding her into the right mindset will fall into place if you let the inner workings of panic do their thing.

“Overseer Kim.” You slowly navigate closer to her, rounding the desk with every moving step across the room. “Even if you were to leave, you can’t. I’ve taken the liberty of locking the door here because I knew that this would happen: the way that you’re acting, we can’t have this.”

It’s amazing at how she’s at ease, despite having the mini breakdown just an instant before.

Because her act is rapidly deteriorating.

“Sir, I don’t follow-”

“Dahyun.” With a hand to her shoulder, her face freezes right when she flashes a look of suspicion, tensing up at the touch before she locks eyes with you again, the unsureness diminishing with a singular eyebrow raise. “I’m giving you an opportunity to have all of this resolved without any loose repercussions.” You can feel the heart rate within her start to calm down the way her breathing stabilizes, tension along the line of her shoulders releasing with every pass of air, “There would be no need to resign, and we would find a workaround to prevent this from ever happening again.”

“And how would you suggest that, Superior?”

“By granting you amnesty. Without the word from anyone else but me.”

You can see that same sweep of her eyes moving left and right, unable to meet yours. The offer alone is taking her a significant amount of time to consider, a mistake that she’s willing to undo. She then looks up with a wistful gaze, the small spark dashing through her irises - as if she had just made the discovery of fire. Her mind starts to work and it’s so easy to tell, reflecting on this potential choice that she’s able to make. “You don’t mean-”

“Mean what?” Letting a sly grin break through your lips.

“By amnesty,” she adds, tilting her chin up, bearing your arms across your chest, “What would I have to do in order to achieve this?”

She has a general idea of the term itself, and maybe you think she’s also heard of the many things thrown around with this specific practice or policy of yours. This occurrence has happened a few times, whipping up a few notable individuals into shape - some much more needed than others, but the commonality between all of them: they’d always submit themselves to you.

“Do you admit and accept the responsibilities of your actions, Overseer?” You formally request with hands reaching to the fine creases of her dress to which she accepts.

There’s a brief pause of consideration again, and you’re watching her eyes never leave yours, thinking about the whole reason that you two are in this position in the first place. It may be a little hard to believe still; knowing what Dahyun will do not only for herself, but for the academy. Then there’s the logged report from your desk, in detail of what she did with that student, makes you realize that she’s got a screw loose in her head.

“Yes, sir.” She answers, looking up with a delighted smile, fully realizing the opportunity and taking it with no regret. “I do.”

“Good.” With a sigh of relief, a hand escalates to the back of her neck. “Because your punishment begins now.” And she’s in awe of the shimmer in your eyes, slowly grinning when you’re dipping your head down lower, minimizing the distance. It lights a fire within you, a motive of what will entail from this point going forward.

This is what amnesty is, Dahyun would think, be oh- she has no idea what she just got herself into.

You learn that she’s receptive, the way that she takes your lips with hers so well, hands flying freely, breath clashing with yours. It’s messy, the way more slick starts so spread on the lower half of both of your faces, wanting more. Her tongue weaves its way past your mouth, a leg hiked up that you greatly take the hint for, channeling the hum of approval coming from her down your throat. She grips tight on the back of your shirt, adamant on taking this chance to build a clean slate, a perfect rush of gasps followed with even more kissing. Her hands are well into your hair when you pull away, a pause to probably call a stop and-

“So it is true,” she admits against your cheek, “About this little policy?”

You lift an eyebrow unimpressed at her.

“What do- you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” you mumble, grip getting tighter on the fine part of her ass, chest heaving slightly, breaths getting uneven.

“I thought it was just some legend here, around these halls.” Dahyun answers, letting her wrists relax while swooping under her legs, instinctively wrapping them around the small of your back. “Maybe you can show me if that’s actually a real thing.”

She doesn’t see the flared nostrils you’re giving her, “I’d like to thank you, Overseer,” setting her on the desk nicely when the clack of her heels fall onto the floor, echoing the room as she removes the top piece of her dress, tossing it over to the chair she was previously sitting at, “For reminding me what I was doing.”

“And that is?” She asks, naively.

There’s a bit of a shock when you force her body to the desk, a flushed reaction covered with a gasp when you have one hand fastened to her wrist, the other lightly on her neck with the grip on the fingers getting delicately tighter. She tries to read your expression, map out the crinkles falling towards a cross or a devilish smile, feeling your breath graze along the line of her neck in these soft hitches.

“Allow me to show you,” you whisper, flipping her small body to where her back is facing the ceiling, toe tips nearly grazing the floor but just barely. The same hand to her wrist is now shifted to her back, the other set flat; searching for something to take hold, she peeks over her shoulder, watching you study the way her dress hugs along the shape of her waist and hips.

Doing this kind of practice was no surprise to you, and it doesn’t happen as often as you would’ve liked. Ryujin took three tries before she’d agree to not be a bother to you, Haewon probably took a few days or more to finally come around, and even Mina just recently. This revolving door into your office and form of chastising was the last resort of necessary actions for your fellow colleagues, some willing to challenge your authority, others were willing to submit.

“What do you think this treatment entails?” you ask vaguely, raising the lower part of her dress to reveal more and more of her ass into the light, taking note of the noticeable choice of lace as she hikes it up with her free hand. “I sure hope that this should help you learn a thing or two. Though, it’s entirely up to you.”

Dahyun’s side profile is amazingly flawless to see when you’re gently kneading her soft ass with your hand, palm moving graciously along the fine skin, fluttering her eyes shut, her breathing begins to become irregular, a small tremble to her hips as you press down lightly on the waistband, tugging on the elastic before letting go. The potential is right there at your hips - at your fingertips, to ruin, break skin, a perfect canvas for you to mutilate in any way you see fit.

You laugh and admittedly, out of spite. “I’m sorry, if this meeting didn’t occur, you were going to invite him over for another one of your private sessions?”

She seethes, but in anticipation, drawing a sharp inhale of air when your hand slides up her back. Part of you wants to put her back onto the wood, but you let it slide when she lifts herself off to meet your cheek, getting a bit selfish when she’s refusing to pull away. Her swollen lips and lidded eyes are too tempting to stop yourself- as if she’s the one pulling you into her spell.

“Had I not been found out, I would’ve,” she murmurs, clutching onto a bit more of her hiked up dress, revealing her bare ass to the open air, unveiling a strike point.

A fast hand tends to hers, placing it with her other hand still pressed behind her back. She writhes at the uncomfortable position but the tension passes through her body once you adjust.

“You know what I would say to that, Overseer?”

“What-”

Nothing is said, but all is shown with a harsh slap to her ass. A statement.

Strike one.

Dahyun quietly yelps at the sudden hit to her backside, everything from the waist down clenching from the contact. The rough palm on your hand stings to the point where you’d have to flick your wrist a bit to subdue the burn. Her breathing starts to become irregular, wiggling her legs hanging from the side of the desk.

“Superior, ah-”

“I should’ve also mentioned that I’m permitting you to use expletives, but you’re already ahead of the curve as it is,” you tell her, massaging the crimson mark now apparent across the breadth of her ass, feeling the bits of heat emulating across the rough creases of your palm. “You’re now free to speak your mind.”

“God, f-fuck. I can’t bel-”

Another rough hit cracks an echo in the room. Earning a high-pitched whine from her. Strike two.

“Choose your words more carefully.” Fighting the urge to smile at the sight this woman splayed across the table, letting out these heaves of desperation, body tightening and untightening on the surface as she’s hiding her face from you. “I don’t plan on easing up after what you did.”

“Sir, please. I just need to-”

You press her deeper into the table, hike up more of that insanely tight dress to her waist, letting her struggle under your grasp. The sounds leaving her pretty little lips would drive anyone else drastically crazy, watching as this uncrowned beauty crack under the weight of your touches with a third slap. Strike three.

What sets Dahyun apart from the rest that has gone under your specified practices of treatment is the appeal she possesses. At least everyone from the faculty to the students have shared their thoughts about her: few envying and others fantasizing. You’re somewhere between the two, impossible to really tell for yourself, but what’s rest assured:

There's more than a boatload of things to discover with Dahyun that’s already a list growing by the second. Dragging your fingertips along her thighs, pressing and pinching in spots where you’re trying to assess how nimble she can get, the way you can twist and mangle her limbs into a plethora of ways that’s drawing up with the imagination running through your head. How she shudders when you’re pulling on the elastic of her panties down her luscious legs, drinking in the sight of her glistening pussy lips hanging off the rim of your desk, clearly having an enjoyable time with the slick soaking her undergarments as well.

“Have we had enough? Or are you willing to take more?” you ask, letting Dahyun keep her own hands behind her back with yours fastened over the curve of her hips, sliding down to her red cheeks, handprints visible as you're soothing the damage. “I definitely think that you can handle more, shall we continue?”

She shivers, the slightest grasp to her ass gives another hitched breath, caressing it briefly as you’re plotting the next move in your head.

“You can answer me, Dahyun,” you tell her, leaning down over her back, nose tangling within the threads of her hair, brushing the cuff of her ear before planting a kiss right below it, “But from these sounds I’m hearing tells me that you’re enjoying it.”

A small twist from her singular eyebrow, lids still sewn shut, “You’re ecstatic, that I m-misbehaved.”

“Can you tell?” Another slap to her ass and a tug to the soft skin.

“Y-yes sir, I-”

And another.

“I’m not convinced yet.”

Then another strike.

“F-fuck sir-”

One more hit to bring the tally up to seven.

“Makes me wonder what you were going to do with that poor student if this carried on without my interference.” And at this point her ass has morphed into this ruby shade with every strike that follows. Her shoulders roll back, you’re keeping her in place, wrists still stacked on top of each other, hands opening and closing in response to the pain the more slaps you dish out.

Dahyun struggles to keep her breathing stable, one firm grab to her asscheek as you’re planting a few scattered kisses down the column of her throat, teetering along the bridge of her collarbone. “Tell me, would this be on your mind with him also?”

She doesn’t open her voice to tell, but a simple nod is all she gives. “My, my, Overseer. You really are something.”

You could be satisfied with the way things transpired in this very room, content with the message sent and the warning laced between the lines. A momentary pause, hushing her whimpers, tending to the red tint of her ass, easing the ache of pain mixed with pleasure. Her eyes are scrunched along with the bridge of her nose, gnawing on her bottom lip as your fingertips continue to dance along the sensitive skin.

“Are you ready for the next part?” you murmur into her ear as your hand trails down to the space between her legs, dragging a pointer finger across the warmth of her leaking slit, listening to the sharp breath passing through her lips again.

“Mmmm…” Her legs buck against the drawers, dipping the two pads into her walls. The corner of her lip wobbles as she throbs around your fingers, dragging and sliding in a form of trial and error; seeing what she likes and what doesn’t, the light in her eyes filling with lust. “Sir, please, yes, God-”

She sees another idea spark in your irises, drawing away from the warmth of her pussy temporarily, hands fast to undo the belt around your waist. Dahyun could only watch as you’ve got the leather wrapped around, creating a loose hoop at the end before lightly placing it across the two divots in her back resting above her ass.

You test the pliancy of the looped belt on your other hand, ensuring that the article rebounds nicely across your palm. “I’ve got one more thing to do, consider this to be a test of some sorts.”

“What do you mean, Superio–”

Her voice screeches when you strike the leather in the same spot where your hand hit on her ass cheek; entire body tensing from the sharp pain before breaking down into broken down sobs. She tries to resist by getting up, but you keep her in place as she whines, adamant in believing that she can’t handle it any more.

“Oh no, we’re not through yet,” you hiss, not paying any attention to the stray heel hitting your thigh in retaliation. “Not until you tell me that this won’t happen again going forward.”

“Just for the record, sir,” Her hand grips the underside of your forearm at the same time your weight begins to stack along her back, furrowing her brows and gritting her teeth. “I wanted this.”

“So are we going to have a problem like this again next time?”

“Absolu-”

The leather belt finds her ass again, the crack in the atmosphere strong enough to mistake for the clap of lightning.

“No,” she pleads, twisting her head back and forth, sounding off another thwap to make a point. “No sir, we’re not going to have another problem with this ever again.”

“Good,” you say, the formality alone shortly returning, hands hovering over to her wrists, slackening the belt as you begin to wrap it around her. You’re keeping focus, maintaining your thoughts meticulously, fighting your cock that’s beginning to ache in your trousers. “I’m gonna take good care of you now.”

Once you’ve got the leather fastened around her wrists, there’s another fill to be satisfied when you slip your fingers back into her cunt, throbbing at the way you curl them inside, earning a few harmonious sounds as her back arches to the touch. She’s melting by the second, “Yes, yes, please sir, I want-”

“Speak up,” you breathe, sinking down to your knees, hands resting at the rise of her hips, glistening lips into view. Everything about her is a new learning curve, and the way her lower half is still hung over the edge, ankles neatly crossed together like her bound wrists, you almost feel bad for enacting this onto her.

Keyword almost, and you put your mouth on her other set of lips. Unsure, testing, getting those first savoring seconds up her wet cunt. Her whole body pulls inward, choking down a cry, and you realize, this woman is filled with surprises.

But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself, the shivers she dishes out, the string of hums continue to leave her mouth. This wasn’t the time to keep the niceties - shoving your whole face and tongue into her pussy, tongue slipping through her opening in these strokes, body contracting and relaxing. The fingers also come into play, tapping along her clit and eventually dipping in to where your tongue can’t reach, the wetness soaking your fingers, the short grasps letting you know of that beautiful high fast approaching.

“I’m gonna-” she says, voice peaking in a higher pitch than the last, the balls of her feet hitting your chest, holding her down at the bottom of her thigh and ass. “Sir, I’m gonna fucking-”

“That fast?” you ask, gaze glassy, drunk on the sweet slick that’s all over your lips. Biting down the laugh from the top of your throat, “And here I thought you’d hold out a bit longer for me there.”

She pulls her body up with what little strength she has while being tied up. Panting. Heaving. You’re content with the structured appearance of her face completely ruined, tense, letting her eyelids flutter when she feels your finger slip inside her once more, because another feeling like this wouldn’t really hurt anyone.

“Final question. Are you going to be good for me from here on out?”

There’s a silver lining with the sense of humiliation you’re giving her, nearly sympathetic when your knuckle finds its way deeper. It’s wrong, you think, to be like this, but you’ve learned with the years of experience of being in this place that people will only listen when backed to a corner with no other way out. Everyone here is aware of the rapport you have with others, the kind of power that shouldn’t be really shown until it’s a desperate call to make to ensure everyone’s on the same page as you. This time isn’t really different.

But still, it’s a first with her, and you’ll take this grand opportunity to pressure her into not making another issue for the next time.

“Dahyun,” you’re telling her again, because she’s just staring at you in awe. The way you’ve been handling her; professional at the surface level, finding a pressure point to the things that she’s been accused of committing, drawing that out of her by any means necessary, until you’ve managed to break her. “Answer me, darling.”

She comes back to her senses when her body shifts more inward to the wood, resting right at the bending point of her hips, listening to the zip from your pants. The most evil thing she’s done all day: a sly smile breaking across her face, watching you tease the head of your cock along her wet lips. This will be a problem, but a welcome one. You’re hoping that you’ve done your part to the best of your ability.

“Yes sir,” she answers, shimmying her hips to tease. “I’ll be really good for you. I promise.”

“I hope so.” you retort, “I can be very convincing.”

A slip inside, a slow push. It’s electric. Further. Deeper. Filling her cunt up, her walls leisurely stretch around you. The heat alone is euphoric, coming to you in a fast rush. You hold yourself in for as long as possible, but it’s futile; she may have a few screws loose in the head, but you’re not far off the mark as well.

“God,” she mumurus again, and you drag yourself out slightly. Back in nicely, smoothly into that heat, until Dahyun nods her head in approval. She gasps again when you move past the previous spot your cock was inside her, nearly to the base.

“Oh, my fucking-”

A shared gluttal moan parts from your chest and hers, eyes fixated on the sight of your slicked up cock carefully impaling Dahyun, the friction becoming more and more addicting. The muscles in her back start to freeze up along with her clenched hands, fighting against the leather around them. You make it easier for her case, lifting her chest up at the breast, leaning down to seize her lips on yours, holding her steady, cock carving up her walls with every building thrust.

Nose against her cheek, “This cunt,” you utter, pushing yourself deep as this girl is faltering moans with every hit your hips make with her sore, red ass, “I can’t believe how tight this grips me, god- fucking, no wonder he wanted to keep seeing you in the first place,” and you lean down the line of her back, letting her pussy clench around your cock, feeling the clutch of her walls, all wet and aching for more.

The thrusting starts to pick up, unrestrained and unrelenting now. You’re not even sure what to do with your hands, alternating between holding at the endpoint of her waist where her hips meet or press her unbelievable thighs together, to make the press around your cock that much better. A premature call to make, in comparison to the other’s that have preceded Dahyun: her pussy takes it in so well, you could bury yourself inside her for what feels like forever.

“Sir,” she groans out, the sentence being cut off with another slap to her ass, following up with the crash of your hips into hers, holding on to her binded wrists. “Please, please, please-”

“Please what, hmm?” You can’t really conjure up the proper thoughts to put in conversation, heaving out scattered spells of air with every stroke into her. “You’ve gotta help me out here.”

“Need more.” It’s a request for sure, and not a vague one. “Please keep fucking me.”

You do give her more, and nothing less. With every passing second you dive deep into her cunt, the beating in your heart accelerates just that teeny bit faster. The thoughts are out the window at this point, the only thing keeping you from figuratively passing out is the sopping wetness of her cunt every time you pull out and drive back in. The pace gets a bit faster, then you dial it back, watch as her upper body convulses across the desk, mouth hung open for all the moans to be let out, getting louder, more higher, and needier.

She gasps when you hold yourself inside, thrown off guard with the firm hit you give her, a moment to catch her breath. “Wait, no, fuck, why did you-”

Dahyun had managed to do something to you that the others couldn’t in this short span of time: break you. Even after all this time, it’s really interesting how the very person you’ve been wanting to see out for an instance like this is the one that’s managed to make you go all out into setting them right. She’s spearheading this thing, and not you. When it should be the other way around.

A fistful of her hair is grabbed, and her body is raised up, hips flush with hers. “If I hear another question leave your sultry lips, I’ll tape it up so that nobody can hear you screaming down the hallways.”

She bites her wobbling bottom lip, assuring you that’s exactly what she wants to happen, and it will. Her half-open eyes sees your head go sideways, planting a kiss down her neck, inching your cock deeper into her cunt past the hilt and her body shudders at it.

“Want me to fuck some sense into you now? Properly? Fuck this pretty little pussy that it’ll make you think right?”

She nods desperately, “Yes sir. Please.”

You bend her over across the desk again, hand still tangled into her hair with the other resting at her hips. The pace deliberate at first, savoring the sensation of how her body takes you, parting her folds with every inch of your shaft. She shivers when you tease her still, not going all the way, but making her earn it.

Now wasn’t the time for easygoing now, the sight of her backside is an eighth wonder of the world to admire, sliding out and dragging your cock back into her, gradually increasing as the additional slaps to her ass again, fucking her deep. You eventually decided that she’s served her punishment long enough, untying the belt at her hands and discarding it somewhere in the office, putting her hands up to the other end of the desk for her to hold on as you mercilessly bury your cock into her.

“Sir, I can’t keep- fuck!” she cries out, the litany of lovely whines and sounds the more you fill her up. She also takes the liberty of letting you take a breather, moving her hips back, bouncing her ass with you just standing there, watching as her perfect ass does this little ripple effect on the skin, jiggling with an endless movement.

It was getting all too much, and Dahyun herself was enjoying it as well, smiling with every groan that rips from your throat, hand floating over her hips, piercing your cock roughly back into her again and again, unwilling to yield the remaining bits of pleasure before either you or her reach that point-

“I’m gonna fucking- god, sir, keep going, so close-” she strains, gripping your wrists and tight enough for her to rip them off.

“Don’t fight me,” you spit, voice leaning towards something primal, “Cum all over this cock.” And she does.

Your muscles should be spent at this rate, but they hold out long enough as your ears are picking up the endless babbles and whimpers, mixed in with the sloppy strokes of your hips hitting hers. The mind is overloaded with so much, but your hands find rest at her ass again, burying yourself deep. And then it hits you in a flash.

One firm hit sheathing your cock into her cunt, and you pull out, cumming all over the fine plane of her ass. You’ll need to take a mental image to save for eternity - the way you’re painting in these lovely slashes with your release, all over her ass, her back - because you learn that she looks amazingly good like that. A fine figure, waiting to be defiled and tarnished, and it happens.

“God, would you look at-” you’re also left in disbelief, the grip around your cock loosening, eyes on leaking pussy lips, she’s hung down, face off to the side, eyes closed, steadily breathing. The words coming out of her mouth are inconceivable, but she’s thankful, praising you, giving thanks. Judging from how content she looks, proves that your hard work is done.

“S-sir,” she tries to say, still left speechless.

A kiss to the temple of her head, and a ruffle with your hand sliding down to her back. “So, are we satisfied with your conversation?”

Dahyun takes a minute or two, maybe more, to process everything that’s happened just now. She’s still on your desk, and you’re getting right back to it, slipping on your slacks, picking up the tossed belt that you used as a makeshift rope. Your ears pick up on the heavy breathing from her as she slowly gets up, hands giving her support on the desk, dazed and astounded once things start returning back to normal.

You fix up the rolled up sleeves of your shirt; Dahyun blankly stares out in space, fixing up her dress and placing some of the various items hit in the crossfire back in their right spot, off the floor and somewhere where you’ll fix soon.

“Dahyun?” you ask again, watching as she starts to make her way out the door. “Overseer.”

She turns at the title, realizing she left behind a vital piece to her appearance, dipping her head down in embarrassment, but you can already see the blush breaking through her cheeks. Her breathing is also irregular, but it’s a lot calmer than before.

“Sorry,” she says, squaring her shoulders, a hand taking the heels in yours. “Thank you, for- uhm, the persuasion.”

An inquisitive look is what you give her. Meeting your gaze, you notice a few stray strands out of place in her hair, take it upon yourself to use the tip of your pinky to move it away from her forehead. Not much is left said between the two of you, probably just small talk or the comfort of silence finally setting in like before. You can’t really seem to get over the wistful constellations behind the lenses in her eyes - and it’s something that you want to study more about.

“Right,” you tell her, patting her shoulder before guiding her to the doorway, fingers fast to the touchpad and the quick clicks of the deadbolt finally opens it. “I’m happy enough to see you again, without the intent of correcting your little issue.”

Dahyun nods in agreement, pulling both of her lips inward to force back the smile, but you see right through her. She begins to make her way out, bare feet on the floor, heels in her hand - a solid lasting impression after today.

“Before I forget Dahyun,” you’re calling out again, and she twists her head around to meet your eyes, “Let’s speak again sometime soon okay? My door will be open for you if needed.”

She squints, smiling a bit to where you see the bottom bits of her teeth. You give her a nod to emphasize your point. “Count on it sir. I guess I’ll be coming around more often, then.”

#twice smut #dahyun smut #kpop smut #male reader #twice dahyun smut #kim dahyun #twice dahyun #kpop x male reader

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no-phrogs-in-hats · 10 days ago

Text

Suburban Sunrises and City Sunsets !NSFW!

Avenger!Agatha x Avenger!Pregnant!Reader

Word count: 11,178

Content Warnings: MDNI; soft smut, pregnancy, morning sickness/vomiting, childbirth/c-section, needles/epidural

Summary: The nine months following you and Agatha finding out you're pregnant--also known as Agatha having a crisis and realizing you've turned into a suburban family.

A/N: Hiii!!! I absolutely loved writing this. Panicked, worried Agatha is always fun to write, plus pregnant reader really adds to it. This will probably be my last oneshot for a couple weeks unless I have some free time! The next one on my list is a Maya Mason x reader!!!

Read Part 1 here

Spotify playlist here

Ao3 here

Masterlist here

Tag list: @sweetmidnights @warpdrive-witch @katrina-3-37

You sit in the warm bath, clouds of bubbles up to your chest. Agatha sits on the edge of the tub, pouring some kind of floral scented bath oil as you sigh and flip through the packet of OB/GYNs and prenatal information the nurse gave you.

“What about Jen?” you huff, and toss the packet on the side table beside the tub, reaching into the bag of candy Agatha got for you. “She’s a midwife.”

Agatha recaps the bottle of bath oil. “She hasn’t been a midwife since 1925.” She sets the bottle on the table and crouches down beside you. “I’m not trusting her with you or our child.”

“She’s been wanting to get back into it,” you try to reason.

Agatha sighs. “Do you actually want Jennifer as your midwife?”

“I mean–I don’t know!” you groan. “I know Jen. I like Jen. It would be a little comforting to have someone that doesn’t see me as a statistic, and actually…” Your voice goes quiet. “Sees me–us–as a person and a child.”

Agatha smiles sadly and her hand runs through your hair. “Okay,” she says softly. “If it makes you more comfortable, Jen can be part of it–but I would like it if we had someone who hasn’t been out of practice for 105 years.”

You take her hand and press a kiss to it. “Thank you.”

“I’ll call the OB office by the Tower,” she says. “See if they can fit you in soon.”

You order in for dinner tonight–some vegan place where Agatha made sure every single ingredient is organic. She nagged the poor employee on the phone for almost ten minutes.

“So, every ingredient is organic?” she double checked. You heard the girl on the line mumble something and Agatha nodded, flipping over the menu that’s on the counter. “And the tofu? Is that pasteurized? Okay. And your sauces–? Well, excuse me for not wanting to give my pregnant wife a foodborne illness!”

Sitting at the kitchen table, Agatha unpacks the bag of food. “I called the OB office earlier. They have an ultrasound appointment available tomorrow, but it’s at nine in the morning.”

“When’s the next one?” You ask, opening your container that has a vegan grilled cheese.

“In two weeks,” Agatha sighs, and takes a seat to eat dinner.

“Alright,” you say. “I guess since it’s so close to the Tower, we might as well just go back.”

“Are you sure?”

You shrug. “Yeah. I mean, we’ve calmed down–” You pause, completely forgetting that Wanda guessed.

“What?” Agatha asks. “What’s wrong?”

Your voice is steady. “I forgot to tell you…Wanda knows.”

“How?” she gapes.

“She called me to check in right after you went into CVS,” you explain.”I didn’t tell her. She guessed it.” As you watch Agatha’s face contort into frustration, you lean forward, taking her hand. “It’s okay! Honey, it’s fine! She said she won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “It’s your place to tell, anyway. Not mine.”

“I’d like the coven to know first,” you say. “I guess Wanda’s part of the coven. She’s been to a few meetings. But I want to wait until after the first trimester…just get settled–out of the high-risk-for-miscarriage-zone, have a few ultrasound pictures to show them. When’s the next meeting?”

Agatha gets up, checking the calendar on the fridge. “Looks like March 7th–two weeks.”

You sit back in your chair, sighing. “Alright, yeah. We’ll tell them then.”

“And the rest?” Agatha asks, raising an eyebrow as she sits back down. “The team is gonna be suspicious sooner or later.”

You groan. “It’ll come out eventually.”

It’s like the nausea only appeared after learning that you’re pregnant. There’s a deep, unpleasant feeling in your stomach when you wake up in the morning. The sun is just barely above the horizon. Dark shadows are still cast across your bedroom ceiling, but you’re out of bed immediately, rushing to the bathroom.

Your heavy footsteps and rushing stir Agatha from sleep and she’s out of bed quickly. Hunched over the toilet and retching, you feel Agatha’s hand on your back as the other holds your hair back.

“Oh, god,” she mumbles, her voice still rough from sleep. Back in the bedroom, you can hear Agatha’s alarm go off for the doctor's appointment. “It’s okay, honey.”

She opens the bathroom closet and grabs a rag, running it under the tap. Agatha sits down on the floor beside you and when you sit up she gently wipes your mouth and nose.

“Thank you,” you sigh, sniffling and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Agatha kisses you on the forehead and stands up. “I’ll go get you the nausea meds.” After turning her alarm off, she goes downstairs and retrieves the medication. It helps, mostly. Your stomach has settled by the time you finish getting ready, but there’s still a twinge present. Despite your protests, Agatha makes you eat two pieces of toast.

The ride back to New York City is uneventful. Commuter traffic is always heavy, but you slept right through it, and you even slept through Agatha picking up her coffee order in a drive-thru. When outside of the OB/GYN office, she wakes you up with a gentle shake of your shoulder.

You blink against the bright sunlight and stretch before you look down at the cupholder. “Where the hell did you get coffee from?”

“I went through the Dunkin’ drive-thru,” she says, and reaches into the car door pocket. She holds out a baggie to you, “I didn’t wanna wake you up. You looked so peaceful. But I got you a donut if you get hungry.”

“Aww, thank you,” you say, eyes still heavy with sleep as you lean over to kiss her.

When you walk in, it’s much warmer than it is outside. Agatha’s hand is on your lower back as you check in at the front, and it doesn’t leave its position in the waiting room. There are a few other people there, and as you sit there, you have a weird feeling.

Across the room, a couple whispers to one another and looks at you and Agatha. You lean over subtly, “Are they talking about us?”

Agatha doesn’t even get to respond before they approach you. The woman is meek and soft-spoken, “I’m so sorry to bother, but are you two part of the Avengers?”

Shit.

“Um–no,” Agatha lies, politely smiling. “I guess we just look like them.”

You feel Agatha’s hand tighten on your back when the woman’s husband persists. “Are you sure? You guys look ve–”

“Sir, I’m just here for a pap smear,” you sigh, watching in delight as his face drops.

When your name is called, Agatha’s hand is in yours. Her thumb gently runs over your skin as you feel your heart race. Your vitals are taken along with your height and weight, and when you’re brought to the room you’re given a blanket and instructed to remove your pants.

“The sonographer will be in soon,” the woman tells you.

You remove your coat and pants. On the table, you get yourself situated, blanket over your legs as you lay back. You smile as you watch agatha fold your pants and drape your coat over a chair before straightening your shoes below. “Agatha, stop obsessing over my clothes,” you say. “Come here.”

She sighs and takes your hand as a knock sounds on the door. The sonographer enters, smiling way too brightly for it being nine-thirty in the morning. She introduces herself in a chipper voice and you can almost feel Agatha wanting to roll her eyes.

“I have to say,” the sonographer chirps, “this is the first Avenger we’ve had here.”

“Glad to be the first,” you muse.

Agatha, with her hand holding on tightly to yours, stares intently at the blank TV screen on the wall. She rocks side to side and only looks away after you say her name twice. “Hm? What?”

“You’re hurting my hand,” you say softly. “Relax, please.”

The gel on your lower belly is cold, but the gasp comes from Agatha. The TV screen lights up when the probe is placed on your belly and there, on the screen amidst the black and white coloring, is a small blob.

“It looks like you’re at around ten weeks,” the sonographer pipes up. “So just at the tail end of the first trimester. And if I turn up the volume here, we should be able to hear–there we go!”

Above you, Agatha stops breathing. The sound of your baby’s heartbeat is loud, and over top of it you can hear Agatha sniffle.

The sonographer turns her computer screen toward you, pointing at different areas. You turn your head, looking closely.

“Right here, you can see the arms and legs,” she says, pointing to them. She moves her finger to the tiny head just barely visibly. “And here, you can see their face–it’s not super prominent, but you can see it starting to form.”

As you watch the screen up close, he heartbeat loud and strong in your ears, you can’t help but wipe away tears.

The OB comes and goes. Your clothes are put back on. Ultrasound photos are in Agatha’s purse.

You’re back in the car, maybe five minutes from the Tower, and you’re quiet.

“I know I got you a donut,” Agatha says, “but do you wanna get breakfast at that one pla–What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” you sniffle, wiping away tears. “I know we were gonna see them today, but I didn’t think we’d hear the heartbeat! Oh, my god. And their little arms and legs–!”

“Yeah,” she says quietly, buckling in, “let’s go get breakfast.”

You sniffle again, wiping away your tears. “Okay.”

The coven meeting is held at your home in Westview. Wanda joins again, arriving with Billy and complaining about his driving skills.

In the kitchen, you and Agatha prepare tea, wine, and snacks while everyone waits in the basement. You can hear laughter drift up through the staircase as you cut slices of cheese and place them on a platter.

“How are we gonna tell them?” you mutter.

“I don’t know,” Agatha sighs. “I’m sure when you reject a glass of wine, they’ll catch on soon enough–that’s if Wanda holds her tongue.”

“Oh, be nice,” you hiss.

Agatha grins, “Not my forte, hon.”

So look at the cheese platter and pause. “Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the brie,” you say. “Brie’s my favorite. They’re gonna know something’s up.”

Agatha looks at you, knowing that you’re probably right, but not wanting to say it. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says, completely unconvincing.

You take everything downstairs to the coven, and with a little spell, trays of hors d'oeuvres, tea, and wine are floating around the table. Lilia sits beside you and when you take your seat you can feel her eyes narrow at you.

You look back at her, raising an eyebrow and watching as she looks you up and down.

“Something’s different,” Lilia says.

Damn her intuition.

“Like what?” you ask, and you feel Agatha’s hand rest on your thigh, clearly listening in on the conversation.

Lilia narrows her eyes more, finger at her mouth as she focuses on you. Her eyebrow twitches and you can see it in her face when she realizes. “Ah, yes,” she mutters to herself. “I know what it is.”

You curse under your breath and Agatha turns her head. “What?”

“Lilia knows,” you mumble behind a napkin, disguising it as wiping your mouth.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “I knew she’d find out just by looking at you.”

The meeting is in full swing. Multiple conversations are going on at once. Wanda and Agatha–despite bickering–are mentoring Billy, Jen and Alice are going over protection spells, and Lilia…is reading your tea leaves.

She rotates the cup in her hands, focusing on each shape and pattern she could interpret. “So, how far along are you?” she asks quietly.

You sigh and lean in close. “Almost thirteen weeks. We’re planning on telling the coven tonight, we just don’t know how.”

She hums, “Well, congratulations.”

Towards the end of the meeting, you hear your name called and when you look over Agatha has the cheese platter in hand. “Are you finished with the hors d’oeuvres?”

“Yeah, honey, thank you,” you say, stacking cups around the table to clean later.

“You’re not eating the brie?” Billy asks.

You’re so focused on the task at hand that you answer his question mindlessly. “No, I can’t have it, sweetheart.” And then you freeze. And agatha freezes. And you see Wanda and Lilia trying to hide their smiles.

Billy and Alice both look confused. “Why can’t you have it?” Billy asks.

You look at Jen who starts to connect the dots. There’s no way to dig yourself out of this. You look at Agatha and finally sigh. “I’m pregnant.”

Billy’s and Alice’s jaws drop.

“Oh, my god!”

“What?”

Shocked laughter reverberates around the room before hugs and congratulations come.

“That was the hardest secret secret I’ve ever kept,” Wanda sighs before hugging you. “I’m so happy for you.”

You run upstairs quickly and take out the ultrasound pictures from your nightstand. When you’re back downstairs, the coven has moved to the living room. “Here,” you say, letting them pass around the pictures. Agatha stands beside you, hand on your back as you continue talking. “That was a ten week ultrasound. It’s almost at 13 weeks. They said the due date is around September 10th.”

“You guys are the first ones to know, so don’t go running your mouths…Billy,” Agatha says, and then glares at him.

“I think it’s gonna be a girl,” Alice says, handing it to Jen.

“Mmm,” Jen looks at the picture, almost analyzing it from how focused she looks. “I think it’ll be a boy.”

“I’m not saying,” Lilia comments, looking at the ultrasound picture and smiling.

After they’re passed around, you take the pictures back and hugs and goodbyes are exchanged. Just before Jen’s able to leave, you pull her aside.

“I know you’ve been wanting to get back into obstetrics,” you say. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to be one of the midwives in the room. We have an obstetrician, so it wouldn’t be everything, but you know, just some extra help…”

Jen looks shocked. “Seriously?”

“You don’t have to!” you hurry. “But we–” You look at Agatha and then back at Jen. “I trust you.”

Jen glances at Agatha before smiling at you. “If you’re comfortable, yeah, I’d love to help you. Don’t stay up reading baby blogs, those are never helpful. I’ll get you some reliable info, okay?”

You hug her tightly. “Oh, thank you, Jen!”

After everyone’s left and the house is quiet, you move to the kitchen where the dishes from tonight’s meeting sit in the sink. You stand in front of the fridge, looking at all of the pictures and recipes and christmas cards from three months ago that hang from magnets. Arms wrap around your waist and the smell of Agatha's perfume calms you as her lips skim over your neck.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

You sigh, leaning into her touch as her hand splays over your stomach. “Trying to figure out where to put the ultrasound pictures.”

She hums behind you and then takes the roll of pictures from your hands. Her arms reach out on either side of your head, and you watch as she slips the pictures beneath the magnet that holds a picture of you and Agatha at the reception after your wedding.

“There,” she says simply, wrapping her arms back around you and placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Perfect.”

__________

The second trimester rolls in quickly. You’re feral. Absolutely feral. And Agatha loves it.

It starts with a single kiss in the morning. And then the raspy morning voice when Agatha says, “Good morning.”

You bite your lip, fingers running over her bare arms as she leans over you. Agatha eyes you suspiciously, “Why are you giving me that look?”

You sigh, eyes wandering over her body–the satin nightgown that clings to her curves, her blue eyes lit up in the morning sun, the stale perfume still lingering from the previous night.

“I just love how you sound in the morning.” You pull her down for a kiss. “And how you look, and…” You have no clue where you’re going with this and you start to ramble. “…It’s our wedding anniversary, and I’m overflowing with hormones and…”

She giggles as she kisses you again, her voice low and seductive, “And you want me to touch you?” Her hand sneaks under your shirt as she kisses you, but she pulls away quickly, brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Agatha pulls up your shirt, eyes wide as she looks at you. “You’re starting to show.”

“What?”

“You’re showing!”

Laying on your back, you tilt your chin to look down, and sure enough, there it is. “Oh, my god,” you mutter. You lay back, hands over your eyes. “We’re gonna have to tell them,” you huff.

Agatha’s hand rubs soothingly over your belly. “Your 20 week scan is in a couple weeks, hon. It’s gotta happen soon. Quite frankly, I was surprised they didn’t catch on when you declined the sushi they offered you.”

You drop your arms, smiling painfully up at her, “I know…I kind of liked just us knowing–aside from the coven. But everyone else is gonna make a big deal out of it.”

“Because it is a big deal,” Agatha says, pressing a kiss to your belly. “Sweetheart, you’re an Avenger. You can’t be training and doing missions. We’ve been lucky enough that Steve’s been taking ‘no’ as an answer for training recently. But sooner or later we’re going to be called for a mission, and we both know that Tony won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You glare at her, “I hate you.”

“Only because I’m right,” Agatha smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can feel her hand drift higher, fingers wandering underneath your bunched up shirt and over your nipples. She leans in close, lips over yours as your heart races. “Would you hate me less if I give you what you want?”

“Maybe,” you tease. “I’ll be the judge of that after.”

Agatha kisses you softly, trailing her lips down your throat as her hand slips beneath your underwear. She moves back to your lips and your hands tighten their grasp on her shoulder and nightgown as her tongue moves with yours. You can feel her smile as her fingers tease you. “It’s not even nine in the morning and you’re already this wet for me?”

“It’s the hormones, I swear,” you huff, quickly pulling her back down to kiss you as she laughs.

Your head is thrown back into the pillows and your back is arched as her fingers work. She hovers over you, arm flexed, veins visible through the skin, and it turns you on even more. Agatha kisses you softly, “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are like this.”

A loud moan escapes you as her palm presses against your clit and she smiles. “You’re fucking beautiful,” she says, jaw clenched and fingers working faster. “You��re glowing. I did this to you, and everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Yes! Yes, yes!” Your hands grab at any part of her they can reach. Your lips press hard into hers and you breathe deeply. “Fuck, I’m all yours! And I want everybody to know!”

Your legs close around Agatha’s hand as you shake beneath her. You moan loudly into her mouth when she kisses you hard, fingers curling as you finish. Her kisses become softer and softer as you catch your breath.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I guess I don’t hate you as much.”

Agatha laughs and kisses you again. “What do you say we take a shower and then we can go out to brunch, and then…” She places her hand back on your belly. “..we go to the mall to look at maternity clothes?”

Before you can get out of bed, she stops you. “Wait! I almost forgot. I have an anniversary present for you.” She leans over to her nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling something out, and when she faces you again, she has her hands behind her back.

You eye her suspiciously as she smiles, and without a word, she hands you a pair of tiny yellow rain boots with duck faces on them. You gasp and sit up quickly, turning them in your hands. “They’re ducky boots!” You look up at her with tears in your eyes.

Agatha takes one in her hand and examines it. “They definitely won’t fit for like…a year,” she chuckles. “But when I saw them at the store I couldn’t help myself.”

You sigh and sniffle as you hold back tears. “I love you.”

The shirt you put on today is a lot more snug than it used to be, and when you actually take a look in the mirror, you’re showing more than you thought.

“How did you not realize?” Agatha asks, spitting her toothpaste into the sink.

You go into the closet, looking for a shirt or a dress that’s looser than what you have on right now, and more appropriate for brunch. “Well, I don’t–I’ve been wearing nothing but sweatpants and baggy, lazy clothes, and–leave me alone!”

You can hear Agatha snickering as you get defensive, and you step out in another outfit. “What about this one? Is it obvious?”

Agatha wipes toothpaste from her mouth and smiles. “Give me a twirl, princess.” When you do, she acts like she’s thinking hard, but you already know how she’ll answer. “Beautiful!” she says.

You sigh, “Okay, but is it obvious that I’m pregnant?”

“You know, most people say ‘thank you’ when called beautiful,” Agatha teases, pulling you into her by your waist as you roll your eyes and hold back a smile. She places a kiss on your forehead, “But no, it’s not obvious.”

The maternity store at the Westview mall is cute. It’s not super big, but they have a decent sized selection.

“Why are there so many dresses?” you huff. Agatha holds up a pair of maternity jeans and you make a disgusted look as she giggles. “Why can’t there be a luxury maternity clothes store?”

“For someone who grew up with very little money, you certainly are picky,” Agatha chuckles.

You shrug, looking through a rack of shirts. “What can I say? I’ve developed a taste for more than just White Star Line stewardess uniforms.”

You end up at the checkout counter with an armful of clothing. You get antsy as you look at the cashier, seeing the recognition of the both of you in her eyes. She smiles politely, making friendly conversation, but her eyes keep drifting to your belly. You uncross your arms quickly after realizing that they’ve pushed your blouse in, defining the bump that you were trying to hide.

“Do you have a rewards account with us?” the cashier asks.

“No,” Agatha says, going to put her card in the reader.

“Would you like to sign up?” the cashier continues. “It’s free, and you’ll earn points for your next purchase.”

Agatha huffs, “Okay, sure. Fine.”

You leave the store with three bags of clothes, Agatha carrying all of them.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry one?” you ask.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she snaps. You’re taken aback by her attitude, and while it normally wouldn’t affect you, she panics as she watches your eyes flood with tears. “Oh, my god! No! I am so sorry!”

You sniffle, trying to wipe them away, but they don’t stop. “No, don’t apologize! I’m not–!” You take in a heavy, shuddering breath and Agatha takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom.

When the door closes, she locks it, setting the bags on the tiled floor. Her thumbs come to your cheeks and wipe your tears.. “Hey! Hey, look at me!” You do and she kisses your forehead, resulting in even more tears. “Take some deep breaths! Sweetheart, I need you to calm down.”

You do as she says, breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth. “Okay,” you whimper, repeating the breathing until your tears slow.

Agatha’s hands cup your cheeks and she looks you in the eyes, voice apologetic and soft, “I am so sorry for snapping at you. It was not directed at you one bit.”

“I know,” you sniffle. “I know. It’s okay.”

Agatha grabs a paper towel and wipes away the mascara that’s running down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Just, seeing how that cashier was looking at you–how uncomfortable you looked. It was pissing me off.”

She tosses the paper towel into the garbage can by the door and pulls you into her arms. Her hand holds the back of your head, thumb stroking along your hair as you sniffle into her shoulder. “ She recognized us. Im sure by the time we get back to the Tower, it’ll be all over the Facebook, or the Twitter, or whatever the fuck people use now.”

Your laugh is muffled and watery, and you sigh as it sinks in. “Yeah…” You’re quiet as she holds you, but you’re thinking. Thinking hard. “Agatha…I don’t think I wanna be an Avenger anymore.”

She pulls away quickly, shocked as she looks at you. “What do you mean? I thought you loved it.”

“I do. I do love it,” you say. “But…” Your eyes get watery again and you take a deep breath. “We have no privacy. We probably won’t even get to tell the rest of our…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “Of our…family…that I’m pregnant, because a cashier at the maternity clothes store recognized us! We were at the OB’s office and someone tried to get it out of us!”

You let out a sob as she holds you tighter again. “Agatha, nothing we have is ours! I don’t want our child growing up surrounded by paparazzi. I want our baby to be ours!”

Agatha wipes away her own tears quietly and pulls away. Her hands gently hold your face, like if she held you tighter you’d shatter–and maybe some of that is true. Her eyes are soft and glassy with held back tears. “Okay,” she says, voice cracking. “If you want to, we’ll leave.”

“Maybe not permanently,” you sigh, and press a kiss to her wrist. “I do love what we do, and our kid’s gotta go to school at some point, and that leaves a lot of time open on our schedule. But just…for now…do our own thing.”

“Like, picking out baby clothes?” Agatha smiles softly, thumb stroking your temple. “Painting a nursery? Having me go out in my pajamas at three in the morning to the 24-hour gas station because suddenly you’re craving a very specific kind of ice cream that only they sell?”

You let out a teary laugh, voice quiet. “Yeah…”

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead. “Then we can do that.”

The drive back to New York City is quiet. You doze off about halfway through the drive with your hand in Agatha’s lap, and you’re woken up with a kiss to your palm.

“Wake up, buttercup, we’re here,” she says. “You can take a nap in your luxurious, unbelievably-expensive-bed.”

“Oh, what about the clothes?” You sit up quickly, rubbing your eyes.

“It’s okay,” she reassures you quietly. “I’ll put a concealment spell on the bags.”

You almost fall asleep standing up while on the elevator with Agatha. Your head bobs to the side, resting on her shoulder before you’re jolted awake by her. When in your room, you change into comfier clothes, removing your makeup and laying down on your side of the bed.

Agatha slides in beside you, hand brushing your hair back as you face her. “I love you,” she says quietly. “And no matter who gossips about us or invades our privacy, I won’t let them touch either of you.” Her hand settles on your waist. “Both of you are the most important things in my life, and if you want us to stop being Avengers for a few years, then that’s perfectly alright with me. I don’t want you stressing for any longer.”

“Okay,” you whisper, lip quivering.

“We can stay in New Jersey–which sucks, I know,” Agatha continues, and wipes a tear from your cheek. “We’ll come here for the weekend, or whenever the hell we feel like it.” She smiles as you let out a quiet laugh. “I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me right now.”

“I’m sorry I was too tired to do anything fun for our first anniversary,” you sigh, sleep heavy on your eyes.

“Honey, we spent today having brunch and picking out maternity clothes for you,” Agatha says. “You’re carrying our child. I could not ask for more today.”

When you wake up, it’s dark outside and you’re curled up in front of Agatha. Her arm holds you close to her, hand resting on your belly as she breathes softly against your neck. Your hand reaches out, blindly searching for your phone on the nightstand.

Your movements wake her and you can hear her groan behind you. “What time is it?”

After checking your phone you roll over and curl into Agatha. “Nine,” you mutter.

Agatha stretches, her arms wrapping around you. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” you mumble. “But you’re so warm, I don’t wanna get up.”

She hums before sitting up, ignoring your whining. “Come on, sleepy head. Let’s go turn food into a baby.”

The following morning doesn’t come with kisses, but with loud explosions in the dark of your blackout curtains. Your reflexes kick in and both you and Agatha are out of bed, robes on and out the bedroom door. You opt to take the stairs to the lounge and when you open the door, every resident of Stark Tower is there.

The floor-to-ceiling windows looking over Manhattan show what no one wants to see at nine in the morning: another fiery crisis to deal with and alien spaceships hovering over the city.

“Alright, everybody on the deck in ten minutes!” Tony commands.

As the team heads for the stairs, you look at Agatha and there’s only one thing in the look she gives you.

‘You’re staying here.’

You stay put as she follows but Tony looks back and huffs, “Come, on! Let’s go!”

“No,” Agatha says, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Agatha’s response stops everyone in their tracks and you can see the frustration in Tony’s face border on anger. “Excuse me?” he says, whirling around to face her.

“No,” Agatha says more firmly. “She’s not going.”

“And why not?” Tony asks, nostrils flaring.

Agatha hesitates, “She’s not feeling well.”

“I don’t care if she has the damn flu!” Tony shouts. “All of New York City is under attack right now! She’s one of the most powerful people here–!”

“I said, she’s not going!” Agatha yells back, and you can see every eye in the room on the three of you. You make eye contact with Wanda and she looks like she’s about to intervene, but she stands back.

“Why?” Tony snaps. “How sick could she possibly be to not–!”

You can see it in Agatha’s face. She’s trying to hold her tongue, she’s trying to hold back from screaming, but in the end, it slips out. “She’s pregnant!”

The room falls quiet, and the only sound is the distant explosions. Agatha sighs, her hands rubbing her face tiredly. “Shit.”

Tony turns around to look at you, and it’s like he’s an angry father who just found out his teenage daughter is pregnant. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” you sigh, looking defeated.

“I–” Tony opens his mouth and closes it again, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Okay, both of you stay here–”

Agatha looks appalled. “What?”

“Both of you!” Tony snaps. “We’ll talk about this after.”

There’s a heavy silence as the room clears out, and when the doors to the stairs swing shut you take a heavy seat on the sofa. Agatha follows, arm immediately pulling you close as you drop your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “It shouldn’t have come out like that.”

You press a kiss to her shoulder and take her hand. “It’s okay. Like you said, it had to happen sooner or later.”

The day drags on and eventually, in the lounge, it’s only you, Agatha, and Tony. He’s on his third whiskey after dinner and he sits back, sighing. “So, what’s the plan?”

Mindless TV plays in front of you, your head on Agatha’s shoulder, but when he asks his question, you sit up. You can feel her arm tighten on your waist and you hesitate. “Well, the twenty week ultrasound is next wednesday…” He nods carefully and you fiddle with your fingers. “And–umm–we’re moving back to New Jersey. We’re gonna leave the team for a few years…but we’ll visit on weekends.”

“I figured,” Tony shrugs. “That house is pretty small, though. Nice backyard, but that second bedroom can’t even be called a bedroom.”

Agatha scoffs. “I’ve been trying to tell her that, but she won’t listen.”

“I’m not arguing about this,” you sigh. “I’m too tired for it.”

“You know, if you’d like, I could move you closer,” Tony suggests. “Doesn’t have to be in the city, but close enough that you don’t have to drive almost an hour to and from.”

You smile tiredly, “That’s a very nice offer, Tony, but we can’t ask you to do that. You’ve done so much already.”

He finishes the rest of his whiskey, and gets up, setting the glass down on the liquor cart. “Just think about it.” When he comes back over, his hands are on his hips. “We’re gonna miss having you around here. Both of you.”

“I’m having a baby, Tony. I’m not dying,” you deadpan.

“I’m happy for you, really,” he says. “You’ve done a lot for us, so I want to do everything I can to help you out–even if that means buying a brownstone for you in the Upper West Side.”

Wednesday morning you’re woken up by a flurry of kisses on your face.

“Good morning,” Agatha mutters, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Are you excited to find out what we’re having?”

You hum in amusement, “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?”

“Are you serious?” Agatha asks, kissing you again. “This entire thing was a surprise.”

“Touché.” You swish your lips from side to side. “Alright, fine. But only because I’m too excited to go clothes shopping for them.”

Agatha kisses you on the forehead and smiles. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”

Once again, you’re on the table watching Agatha fold your clothes. The lights are dimmed when the sonographer comes in–this one is much less chipper than the previous one–and Agatha’s at your side immediately.

“So, are we wanting to find out the sex of the baby today?” the sonographer asks as she sets up her equipment.

Agatha squeezes your hand and you smile, “Yeah, when you’re having a baby at 149-years-old you don’t need any more surprises.”

The sonographer pauses for a moment and then a look of realization flashes across her face. “Right–witches, Avengers.” She lets out a breathy laugh. “Alright, now my favorite thing to ask: what do you think it’ll be?”

As she applies the gel to your belly you look up at Agatha, smiling. “What do you think it’ll be?”

You notice a brief flash of anxiety on her face before she answers, “A girl.”

“Alright, we’ll go with girl,” you say as the wand presses into your skin.

The heartbeat is strong and the sonographer points to various parts of the screen. “They are all curled up in there! Here’s the profile of it–you can see the little nose and–oh, looks like they’re yawning!”

You smile brightly and you hear a shaky breath from Agatha. Her free hand goes to your head, a comforting weight as she sits beside you.

“Alright,” the sonographer says, “a little pressure–we’re gonna move over here. There are the little feet, its legs, and you can see a hand right there.” As she goes along clicks can be heard when freezing the screen to take a picture. “And, if we move over here…it looks like…you are having…a girl!”

When you look over, Agatha’s smiling. But there’s more to it. Yes, there’s happiness, there’s excitement, but there’s something else there–relief. She presses a kiss to your forehead and sighs.

The appointment goes by quickly and soon, Agatha’s helping you into your newest pair of maternity pants. She slips the roll of ultrasound pictures into her purse and takes your hand, but when you’re back in the waiting room you freeze.

“Why the hell are you all here?”

A receptionist comes up to you, talking quietly, “I apologize, ma’am. I told them they can’t–”

“It’s okay,” you say, cutting her off with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

A whole group is standing there. Tony, Steve, Nat, Wanda, the whole coven, Billy and Peter, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and Loki.

“We wanna know what you’re having!” Steve smiles brightly, waiting for you to answer.

You and Agatha look at each other, and when your eyes meet you can see that you both have the same idea.

“A healthy baby,” you smile. You pull Agatha through the waiting room. “Come on, I’m craving that one lunch place a few blocks away.”

Before you can open the door, you’re stopped by them again. “Can we please know what you’re having?” Billy asks.

You look at all of them as Agatha opens the door for you. “A healthy baby,” you repeat. “That’s what we’re having. You can find out the sex in twenty weeks.”

You survive their endless pestering throughout the day, and now, you lay in bed with Agatha, talking into the dark–baby names, nursery themes, whose eyes the baby would get, what color magic. But there’s one thing on your mind.

“Agatha,” you say. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

“When the sonographer said it was a girl…” you start, thinking about how to word your question. “You looked relieved–like you didn’t want it to be a boy.”

“That’s not a question,” she mumbles into your collarbone.

“Agatha,” you sigh. “You know what I mean.”

She’s quiet, and you can tell she’s thinking hard. You hear her swallow and take a deep breath. “If…we had a boy…do you…” You can hear the wheels turning in her head, wondering if she should even ask it, if it’s even worth being vulnerable. “Do you think Nicky would feel like he was being replaced?”

Your stomach drops and you feel the hand she had on your belly recoil into herself. “Agatha,” you whisper, heart breaking. “Look at me.” You turn to face her and you can see the uncomfortable look on her face. “Nicky would never think he was being replaced. Do you think you’re replacing him?”

Agatha turns over to lay on her back, huffing in frustration. “I don’t–maybe? I mean, it was 300 years ago, I shouldn’t…even be thinking…”

“Agatha, you’re not replacing him,” you reassure her. You lean over her, forcing her to look you in the eyes. “Loving your daughter doesn’t mean loving Nicky any less, okay?” She nods slowly and you kiss her. “This isn’t going to be like last time. You can be happy, Agatha. You deserve to be happy.”

“Okay,” she mutters. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kiss her again, and when you pull away you sigh. “And do you know what I deserve? A pregnancy pillow.”

Agatha laughs and kisses you again, pulling you into her arms. “We’ll go out tomorrow to get you one. How about that?”

You’ve forgotten what life outside the city was like. You’re three weeks into living in Westview. It didn’t take long to move everything back to Westview–most of it was clothes, and even then, you were building a new wardrobe that actually fit you.

Your life is much quieter now–filled with lamaze classes, doctors appointments, and tea with the coven. It’s slow. Peaceful. You wake up, take your vitamins, Agatha makes you breakfast, and with it being spring, you’ll usually retire to the backyard to work in the garden. It’s pure, domestic bliss.

You stand in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. The list crinkles in your hand as you stand there, looking at the vast expanse of cereal options, and Agatha waits patiently beside you with the cart.

“So…” Agatha starts. “What cereal–?”

“I don’t know,” you say absentmindedly. “It just says cereal.”

Agatha swishes her lips, “Okay, well, while you decide what cereal you want, I’m going to get the frozens.”

You barely acknowledge her, only offering a quiet, “Mhm.”

You can barely remember your name–it’s like your brain is completely shutting itself off and refusing to remember anything. Just the other day, you were heating up leftovers in the microwave and you sat down on the couch, completely forgetting about them and dozing off. When Agatha got home an hour later, the TV was on, you were knocked out, and the leftovers were still in the microwave–cold again.

And when she woke you up to tell you, it led to tears.

And now, you’re in the cereal aisle with a half-complete grocery list and only a vague idea of what kind of cereal you want.

Agatha rounds the corner quickly, frozen foods in her arms. She drops them into the cart, clearly frustrated as she huffs, hands on her hips. “We have a problem.”

“Oh, hi,” you say. “Where’d you go?”

“Frozen food aisle,” she sighs. “We have a problem.” She leans against the cart, fingers tapping on the metal impatiently. “We’re in the suburbs.”

You look at her, confused. “Um…Yeah…?”

“No,” Agatha huffs. “I mean, we’re a suburban family. We’re grocery shopping at a Trader Joe’s.” She starts gesturing around her dramatically. “There are vitamin supplements in our cart. I was just in the frozen foods aisle and I was met with “hey neighbor”. I just ran into one of our neighbors. I don’t even know his name! We are not suburban people!”

“Agatha, honey. It’s okay,” you say softly.

Her jaw tenses and she purses her lips. “Do you know what we were doing, what, five months ago? Fucking in the Adirondacks.”

“Okay. Lower your voice, first of all,” you scoff, throwing whatever cereal boxes into the cart. “Second of all, yes. I know. The result is right in front of you. And, third…maybe it’s good.”

As you push the cart through the aisle she walks beside you. “Good?” she repeats, eyes wide.

“Yeah…” you shrug. You turn down the snack aisle and push a bag of animal crackers off the shelf and into the cart without stopping. “I mean you’re almost 356 years old and I’m 149. We’ve been through a lot—sinking ships, witch trials, like…a shit ton of wars. Maybe it’s good that things are slowing down.”

Agatha sighs, “Well can we slow down in a luxury apartment in Manhattan?”

“You actually wanna move to New York City? We’re about to have a baby in four months.”

“It doesn’t have to be midtown,” Agatha says, and puts a bag of veggie chips into the cart. “There’s Greenwich, the West Village—townhouses have more than one and a half bedrooms”

You pause and raise an eyebrow at her. “One and a half?”

“Oh please, that bedroom might as well be a storage room,” Agatha scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Besides, we haven’t started on the nursery yet. And Brownstones are nice.”

“Brownstones are expensive,” you counter.

“Tony told us that he’ll move us closer to the Tower.”

“What about backyards?” you ask. “I don’t wanna have to go to a park every time I want our kid to go outside.“

“I looked up some brownstones in the city. The backyards aren’t bad,” Agatha says, hand resting on your back.

You stop in the middle of the aisle, looking up at her with a hand on your hip. “You’ve already looked up new houses for us to move to?”

“They’re bigger!” Agatha says, exasperated. “There’s one with four rooms. We should move now instead of when we have more kids–”

“When?” You start grinning. “More? Our daughter hasn’t even been born yet.”

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. “Um–well–I mean–I quite like you in this state…”

“Oh, so you wanna keep me like this?” you tease. “Your perfect, pregnant little wife?”

“We’re getting off topic here,” she says, giving you a pointed look as you keep walking. “Just think about it. We’ve lived in the suburbs since 2026–me since 2023, no thanks to Wanda—and now we’re about to have a kid. Things are already going to change. Why not move now?”

“Okay fine,” you sigh. “You have some good points. I’ll think about it.”

It didn’t take much convincing later that night, which isn’t surprising considering the position you were in when she brought it up again–on your back, slick with sweat, and in her arms as you both laid in the post-sex bliss that she always brought you.

She called Tony the next morning, discussing each feature the new house needs to have–at least three bedrooms, a decent sized backyard, hardwood floors, a fireplace, renovated yet classy, she had more needs than you. They spent days with a realtor, discussing pricing and location and selling your current house, and then came the tours.

You and Agatha saw at least five houses in the span of two weeks: two in Greenwich, two in West Village, and one on the Upper East Side. You were in the Upper East Side townhouse for less than ten minutes before she turned it down, and by the time you’re reaching the third trimester, you’ve both decided on one in the West Village.

It’s cozy, with four bedrooms and hardwood floors from the original build. There are two fireplaces, one in the living room and one in yours and Agatha’s bedroom, and a nice backyard with a patio and room to run around in. And as Tony promised, he paid for it all–leading to you sobbing your ‘thank you’s.

By the time you’re completely moved in, you’re approaching your eighth month of pregnancy. Your ankles are swollen, you’re the size of a cantaloupe, and your back aches constantly. Agatha eventually has to sleep with ear plugs because of how loud you snore–and you cried when you found out–and every time you stand up, you feel like you’re going to lose balance.

After finishing the nursery, Agatha guides you in with her hands over your eyes. When she removes them, you’re met with elephants and soft greens and dusty pinks. The cream colored crib that you had picked out together sits against the far left wall and all of the furniture is placed exactly where you wanted it. And it’s perfect. It’s exactly as you imagined.

“Are you crying?” Agatha asks softly.

You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s good crying. I promise.” You hug Agatha tightly and kiss her. “Okay, my back is killing me. I need to sit down.”

You take a seat in the plush armchair that you chose specifically because it’s a rocking chair. When you lean back, hand on your belly, Agatha sits down on the small ottoman and takes your foot, fingers rubbing the pressure points as you sigh.

“How many people do we have coming to the baby shower?” you ask, resting your head on your hand as you stare at her with nothing but love in your eyes.

“Well,” Agatha starts, “there’s the coven, that’s five. Then there’s Tony, Nat, Steve, Clint, Bruce, Peter and Sam. And Thor and Loki said they might be able to come. So, possibly fourteen.”

You hum, thinking. “We’ll have to lock the door to this room. The only one who knows is Jen–and probably Lilia–and god knows someone will try to snoop around to find out.”

Thankfully, everyone who arrives at the baby shower gets what’s only on the registry–Agatha was very stern about it. But when Alice walks in, your jaw drops.

“You brought wine and premixed margaritas to my baby shower?” you gawk.

“Who brought wine?” Wanda perks up at the kitchen table. “I’ll get the cork screw.”

“Margaritas too!” Alice cheers, and joins Wanda in the kitchen with the rest of the coven.

Lilia pours herself a glass of red, “Agatha would you like a glass?”

“No, thank you,” Agatha says, hand rubbing your back as you cross your arms.

The coven stops and looks at her.

“What, are you pregnant too?” Jen scoffs.

“No,” Agatha pipes up. “I’m standing in solidarity with my wife.”

You’re beginning to regret having your baby shower in the third trimester. You’re exhausted, and by five o’clock you’re growing irritated because you and Agatha haven’t been able to take your daily walk, and on top of that you’re being continuously kicked in your ribs.

“Are you feeling okay?” Agatha comes to stand behind the couch, her hands running over your shoulders as she leans down to kiss your temple.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Just tired.”

Agatha glances around the room at everyone and lowers her voice so only you can hear. “Do you want me to kick everyone out?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No, you don’t have to kick everyone out.”

“Dammit,” Agatha groans. “I was really hoping you’d say yes.”

By seven, everyone is gone and it’s just the two of you. These have always been your favorite moments–the quiet nights spent in Agatha’s arms while something plays on the TV in the background, and the only other sound is her heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I know we got a pretty good amount today,” Agatha mutters, “but do you wanna go shopping for baby clothes tomorrow?”

Your hand fidgets with the wedding band on her ring finger. “Sure.”

When you pick up that first frilly, pink satin dress you want to cry–and a few tears do slip out. “It’s so cute,” you whimper, and throw it in the basket. “We’re gonna have the cutest baby ever.”

Agatha’s hand settles on your lower back as you continue through the store, gasping at every piece of clothing you see. “”Sweetheart, you can’t take home every single article of clothing you see. I know you’re nesting, but you’re going a bit overboard,” Agatha says. “She won’t even grow into any of this for at least three months.”

“Well, you know me,” you shrug, and look through a rack of clothes. “I like to be prepared.”

“One more dress,” Agatha sighs. “And that’s it.”

“One dress and two shirts,” you counter.

Agatha stares at you and then relents, “Fine. One dress and one shirt. And then I wanna get dinner after this, I’m starving.”

You’re a week overdue, and you’re miserable.

“Is there anything I can do for you, honey?” Agatha asks from the stove as she cooks breakfast.

You take a bite of an apple slice at the kitchen table and huff, “Oh, I dunno. Can you get this baby out of me? Or, you could apply my hemorrhoid cream for me, how about that?” Your words get louder as you go on. “Oh, maybe you could remove a couple ribs so that the soccer player I’m carrying has room to move!”

Agatha looks around awkwardly. “Well, I mean–I could apply the–”

“I was being facetious, Agatha,” you say, glaring at her. When she sets your plate in front of you, she presses a kiss to your forehead and you sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted. I can’t sleep, I need help putting on my shoes, and I’m the size of a fucking pumpkin.”

“How about we go to the nail salon today?” Agatha suggests. “You said you wanted to get a pedicure done, but we never had time.”

You sigh, “Yeah, alright.”

The fumes of the nail salon hit you stronger than ever before. You’re settled into the spa chair with Agatha right beside you, picking out a color for her toenails as the technicians set up their stations.

“I usually go for purple, but I’m thinking maybe pink this time,” Agatha murmurs, thinking to herself.

“I think pink would look cute,” you shrug. “What about orange for fall?”

“Mm…Maybe closer to Halloween,” she mutters, and looks over at you, smiling. “Yeah, I’ll go with pink.”

The nail technicians assigned to you and Agatha are engrossed in her stories. You lean back, relaxing as you listen to Agatha gossiping with the woman who starts to paint her toenails.

“I just think she should mind her own business, you know?” Agatha scoffs. “And then there was the time…”

She could talk for days and days and you would never get tired. But a low, dull ache begins to settle in your abdomen. Your face contorts into obvious discomfort as you adjust your position in the seat.

Agatha pauses her story and looks at you, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you wince. “I’m fine. Just uncomfortable–Oh!” Your hand squeezes the arm of the chair as dull ache tightens.

“That was not a Braxton Hicks,” she says, and the two techs look at you with concern.

“No, I’m fine! Finish the pedicure!” you insist, and while the tech continues to paint, Agatha doesn’t relax. Her jaw tightens and you can feel the warning look she's giving you.

When the tightening sensation returns you try your best to hide it, but when you know someone for almost 120 years, you pick up on their tells.

“Okay, no!” Agatha says sternly. “Come on, we’re going!”

“No!” you cry, and look at the tech in front of you. “Finish my nails! We have time!”

“You’re a week overdue, we’re going now!” Agatha says. She gives the tech assigned to you a sharp look. “Put the nail polish down, now!”

“Agatha, no! It needs to dry! Let him finish!” you beg, and another wave of pain crests through.

“Is it gel?”Agatha asks him quickly, and when he shakes his head, snaps her head back to you. “Put your flip-flops on, they can dry in the car, hon!”

With her own nails still wet, she gets down from the chair and slips her sandals on. She digs out her wallet from her purse and tosses a fifty on the chair before helping you down. Her arm goes around your waist as she rushes you out, all eyes on the both of you.

“Wait!” you cry, waddling towards the door with your hand in hers. “I don’t want to mess up my pedicure! Slow down!”

“Sweetheart, that is the least of my concerns!” she shoots back. When Agatha helps you into the car, she pulls out her phone and you can hear her on the phone with Jen as she rounds the car.

She starts the car quickly, and she has a complete disregard for the rules of the road.

“Agatha!” you shout, holding onto the dashboard. “Pull over! Now!” She does as you say and you turn to her, “Take a deep breath. Please. You’re more worried than I am and I’m the one in labor.”

She looks over, nostrils flared, jaw clenched, and knuckles white on the wheel. “Okay,” she croaks, and breathes deeply.

“Okay,” you repeat. “Are you okay?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” you say again, your own breath shaking. “Let’s go.”

This time, Agatha decides to follow the rules of the road. Her hand doesn’t leave yours once until you pull into the hospital parking lot. When she helps you out of the car, you snicker to yourself. “I bet you’re glad I nagged you to put the hospital bag in the car the other day.”

“Walk,” Agatha groans, and you giggle.

In the hospital room, you slip the gown on as Agatha watches, perched on the edge of the bed. “Give me a twirl, princess.”

You huff and give her a slow, cautious turn. “Good?”

“Perfect,” she smiles.

Agatha makes you as comfortable as possible in bed–pillows in between your legs, under your arms, cups of ice chips after cups of ice chips. As the hours pass, Jen arrives, helping with pain management and whatever the nurses can’t do for you.

Around four hours later, at 6pm, the whole coven plus Tony, Nat, and Steve, are in the room, despite you being doubled over on the bed, clutching on tightly to Agatha’s hand. You’re becoming irritated quickly, even with all the well-wishes and balloons and flowers.

“I don’t want them in here,” you groan, another contraction washing over you.

Agatha looks confused. “What?”

“Get them out of here!” you seethe.

“Oh, okay!” Agatha pauses. “Um…Even Jen?”

“Yes! Send them to the fucking waiting room!” you cry. “I only want you in here!”

Agatha ushers the group out of the room, and for once, apologizes to Jen.

“It’s not personal,” Jen says. “I understand. It’s okay.”

At midnight, you’re in the hallway of labor and delivery taking a walk when your water breaks, and you start crying because of how bad you feel. Agatha reassures you that you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re a complete mess.

She sits on the couch in the hospital room. Your forehead rests against her chest as you rock on a yoga ball, her hands massaging your lower back. Your hand tightens its grip on her arm as a strong, sharp pain rips through you.

It’s then that you finally decide to take the offer of an epidural–and you’ve never been more relieved. You sit on the edge of the bed, squeezing Agatha’s hand as the catheter is placed in your back, and after about twenty minutes, it starts to kick in.

“You should try and get some sleep,” Agatha murmurs, coming to sit back down beside you after dimming the room lights.

You hum, trying to keep your eyes open. “You should too.”

But there’s no chance in hell of that.

You’ve been asleep for maybe an hour when two nurses assigned to you enter the room and wake you. The older one washes her hands and slips on a pair of gloves and the younger goes over to the fetal heart monitor, analyzing the graph in comparison to your contractions. When the first nurse is finished checking your cervix, she joins the other nurse.

“What’s the matter?”

Agatha’s hearing seems to increase tenfold.

“Looks like the baby is having late decels,” the second nurse mutters.

“She’s only at four centimeters,” the older one whispers.

“How long has she been in labor?”

“About nine hours.”

“I’m sorry,” Agatha speaks up. “What’s the matter?”

The nurses turn toward you, the older one wearing a look that she’s rehearsed for these kinds of conversations. “The baby’s heart rate is dropping. It’s not too serious right n–”

“Not too serious?” Agatha repeats, her tone sharp. “Our child’s heart rate is dropping and you’re saying it’s not serious? I want a doctor in here right now.”

“Ma’am, I assure you–”

“I want a doctor in here!” Agatha shouts, standing up from her seat. “Now!”

Both of the nurses leave the room and Agatha lets out a frustrated sigh, sitting back down and taking your hand. Her other hand goes to your forehead, pushing back the flyaways sticky with sweat.

You lay there, eyes closed and trying to even out your breathing as you feel her thumb stroke along the back of your hand. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, open when the doctor enters the room.

She reads the fetal monitor, analyzing every last bit of information on it. You watch her lips purse in thought and then she sighs. “You should have gotten me sooner,” she says to the nurses.

“What the hell is happening?” Agatha asks, eyes wide with panic.

“Your baby’s heart rate, for about the past hour, has been decreasing,” the doctor explains. “It’s not uncommon after receiving epidurals. Hypotension is seen a lot and your blood pressure has dropped a bit, and that usually ends up decreasing blood flow to the placenta. We’ll administer some fluids and have you lay on your side. But if it doesn’t change within an hour, maybe an hour and a half, we’re looking at a possible cesarean.”

Before the doctor can leave, Agatha gets out of the hospital recliner and lowers her voice. “If it’s possible, I’d like a nurse that actually knows what the hell they’re doing when caring for my wife.”

You watch the doctor nod and leave, and sure enough, fifteen minutes later, there’s a new night-shift nurse walking in with IV fluids. You lay on your side, facing Agatha while she holds your hand. With the bed rail down, and her reclining, it’s almost like you’re side-by-side in bed. Almost.

You doze off again, hand limp in Agatha’s. When the lights flicker on an hour later, the new nurse and the doctor are back. In the past hour you’ve barely dilated and you can see the worry in the doctor’s face.

She sighs after typing something on the computer. “Unfortunately, your baby’s heart rate hasn’t gone up. Your contractions aren’t doing what they’re doing, and the stress of that, combined with the hypotension is causing that. We will need to perform an emergency cesarean.”

“No,” you mumble, shaking your head. “No, I don’t want surgery.”

Agatha sighs, eyes heavy as she looks at you, “Sweetheart, I d–”

“It’s not optional,” the doctor says. “If we don’t deliver the baby as soon as possible, both you and the baby are at risk of injury.”

Your lips tremble and tears prick your eyes. “Okay,” you cry. “Alright.”

The clock on the operating room wall reads 4:03am.

Agatha sits beside you in the blue scrubs they had her change into, mask covering her mouth and nose, and blue hairnet containing the brunette mess of hair on her head. “I’m sorry it’s not going how you planned. You didn’t even want an epidural and now look where we are.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh as a nasal cannula is placed around your head. “You look hot in those scrubs, though.”

Agatha smiles, “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “You’d be a really hot surgeon. You sure you don’t wanna watch them slice into me?”

Agatha makes a gagging sound. “I think I’ll stay here.”

“Okay,” the surgeon says. “10-blade, please.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Her hand rests on the cap that holds your hair, thumb running soothingly over the soft skin of your forehead. “It’s okay,” she mutters behind the mask.

It takes the surgeon about two minutes to do the procedure. Agatha stands, eyes watering and watching as they pull your baby from the opening in your abdomen. But it’s quiet. Too quiet. And then there’s the dreadful sight and sound of doctors rushing around.

“I don’t hear crying,” you panic, tears starting to fall down your temples. “Why isn’t she crying? Agatha, what’s happening? Why isn’t–why isn’t she crying?”

And then you hear it. The piercing shriek that means life.

You watch Agatha exhale with relief above you and you yourself do the same as tears flood your eyes. Your daughter, tiny and squirming, is wrapped loosely in a blanket and handed to Agatha. She sits back down beside you on the stool, lowering her carefully so you can see her properly.

You crane your neck to press a kiss to her forehead, lips trembling and eyes watery. And as you look at her, you’re unable to form any thought that isn’t about her.

By the time you’re brought back to your room, the sun is rising. You’re exhausted, but the sight of your daughter in your arms makes you want to stay awake for as long as you can. Agatha sits beside you on the bed, shoes kicked off and completely relaxed. One arm is wrapped around you while the other reaches down, finger brushing against the soft cheek of your newborn daughter.

“What about ‘Daphne’?” you ask quietly, not wanting to wake the baby.

“‘Daphne’?” Agatha repeats.

You look down at your daughter, smiling softly. “It was the first name that came to mind when I saw her.”

Agatha smiles, watching as the baby looks up at you both, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as she gurgles. “Daphne it is then.”

At nine, Agatha receives a text. “Tony’s bringing breakfast for everyone. What would you like?”

“Everyone?” you repeat.

“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You know they’re all coming to visit this morning.”

You chuckle, “Surprise me. I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.”

By ten in the morning, your room is filled with people and the smell of breakfast foods.

“Alright,” Tony says. “We’ve patiently waited. What is it?”

“It’s a healthy baby,” you shrug, and pop a grape into your mouth as you cradle her in one arm. You and Agatha giggle together as everyone groans, but you finally give in. “It’s a healthy baby girl,” you smile.

“You owe me fifty bucks, Rogers!” Tony says.

“Wanda owes me ten,” Nat comments.

Alice hands Billy a twenty from her pocket and you sit there in shock. “You were gambling on what sex our child would be?”

“You made us wait until they were born to find out,” Nat says, shoving a piece of pancake into her mouth. “What do you expect?”

“What’s her name?” Billy asks.

Agatha sits on the edge of the bed, a genuine smile on her face. “Her name is Daphne.”

As you sit in the hospital bed wearing the fuzzy pink robe Agatha brought you, you watch your family. You watch them talk, and hear them laugh. You think back to that day in the parking lot–crying as Agatha held you, panicking because you had no idea if this was something you truly wanted or thought you could do. You think back to every moment filled with anxiety, every late night conversation with Agatha, fears spoken in the dark.

But a weight in your arms grounds you. You look down at the tiny baby fast asleep in your arms. You look at the yellow crocheted blanket that Lilia made for her. The ducky boots that Agatha gave you on your anniversary. The frilly dresses, and the hair bows.

You questioned once if you were okay with this. But now, as you look around the room, you realize that you’re more than okay with this. You’re more than okay with the family you found, and with the woman you love, and more okay than ever with what the two of you created–your little Daphne.

#agatha all along #kathryn hahn #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #fanfiction #smut #agatha harkness smut

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quesocheeso · 13 days ago

Note

If Macaque does tell Wukong what LBD did for him, I'm just imagining it would cause a deeper rabbit hole that delays Wukong's departure.

"What do you mean, you died?!"

"What are you talking about, she said you... BITCH."

Like, has the possibility that LBD had Macaque killed so she could have a powerful servant ever come up in his mind? The idea that he just believed her story that Wukong killed him when she has every motive to lie is a little weird.

Okay second time's the charm💃💃💃

If we go this route

We gotta understand that this whole situation has a lot more psychological manipulation than just a he said she said situation

The only way for Macaque to believe Wukong killed him is for him to have seen this happen

and if we assume that this whole thing was plotted by LBD, which yeah sounds like her, she must have seen a lot of value in having Macaque under her control and somehow had been watching over the journey well after she was imprisoned because she meets the pilgrims way before Macaque ever crashed into the journey

Which also brings in the idea whether or not Macaque knew who LBD was other than a demon who was wronged by Wukong, maybe he was more inclined to believe her recap of everything than listening to the guy he believes murdered him, because he didn't know how truly evil she was.

And by believe I mean Wukong didn't kill him, but he did leave Macaque heavily injured and with scars, he probably left Macaque behind when he saw him start to heal, albeit slowly, and was planning to return to check on him later but Macaque was missing when he returned

He was missing because LBD's servant, the mayor or whoever he is, probably was ordered to drag his body away to another area farther away and kill him there while glamoured to look like Wukong, which with how disoriented, injured, blood loss, and blind he was, was not hard to trick Macaque into thinking it was Wukong who came back to finish the job. And then they probably buried Macaque's body in a random ditch to further convince Macaque that Wukong didn't care about Macaque at all, so when he has to dig his way out of the ground and finds himself in a ditch with no marker to his grave that's like the most disrespectful thing someone, who he thought cared about him, could have done to him.

All of this to make sure that Macaque stayed her champion and against Wukong for as long as possible,

though in the end she didn't account for how much these monkeys cared about each other even when pissed.

And definitely didn't see them having a family at all in her plans

LBD: WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY CHAMPION HAD CHILDREN WITH THAT APE?!!!

Mayor: Well he's been living in Sun Wukong's Island for the past few centuries (LBD: WHAT?!!) and has a small ginger child with him and the last time I saw him seemed to be expecting so...

LBD: I can't believe this...after everything my champion is still a simp...

And I think that when Macaque and Wukong finally talk about the whole thing, it's probably after LBD reveals her hand in everything, which Wukong is fcking pissed at and Macaque is having an existential crisis, it's kinda just Wukong clarifying how no matter how mad he was at the other, he would never be able to kill him no matter how hard he tried, and Macaque admitting how not even when he tried to make himself believe Wukong killed him, he could never wrap his head around it and could never truly hate him

#lmk #shadowpeach #3am au #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #lmk lbd

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carriesthewind · 10 days ago

Text

Hey! You!

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This can add up fast when you are talking about legal filings. For example, if you followed along with my recent posts about Sir Clownshoes, his response to the Court's Show Cause order was 112 pages, including exhibits. The reason I was able to make those posts without paying the U.S. government $11 was because of a wonderful site called CourtListener (https://www.courtlistener.com/). They have a browser extension that automatically adds court documents that the user purchases from PACER (the federal site that costs money) to their public site (https://free.law/recap). That way, only one person has to pay $11, instead of everyone single person who wants to point and laugh.

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That means, you - yes you! - can register for a PACER account, download the RECAP extension, and then, four times a year, help provide researches, litigants, interested parties, and shitposters alike access to public records! All without having to pay a cent!

Alternatively, if you need or want access to a public court document, but don't have the funds/can't make a PACER account for some reason, you can request the document through CourtListener. (You do still need to register with CourtListener, but it requires far less information.)

As of the time of this post, there are 1,007 pending requests for documents. Just 17 people could fulfill all those requests, right now, for free.

(And I know I'm framing this in terms of my silly little posts, but having access to these cases and these documents is actually really, really important to a lot of people. You will absolutely make someone's day by fulfilling a request.)

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descendant-of-truth · 15 days ago

Text

While I'm of the opinion that the Re:Coded movie that's in all the collections generally does a better job at giving you all the relevant cutscenes than the Days movie, after playing through the DS game myself, I still think it's a shame how much they left out. Notably, the Castle Oblivion section is... extremely nerfed in the movie.

See, when Roxas tells Sora that he can do whatever he wants when talking to the illusions from his past, he means it. You, the player, are presented with different tasks that come with multiple dialogue options, and there are three possible endings for every "world" you enter. You get a different Ending Card depending on how you act; a Normal Card, an Alternate Card, and an Extra Card.

In the movie, instead of providing you with any kind of choose-your-own-adventure routes that lead to different cutscenes, they just. vaguely animate everyone talking silently to each other, and then have the illusions fade away. Which I think loses a lot of the intrigue, but it also means that relatively few people in the fanbase have even seen any of these routes.

I won't go over every single one because that can easily be done by looking them up on YouTube, but I do want to bring up one route in specific because it's really stuck with me ever since - Wonderland's Extra Ending.

So, in Wonderland, you're presented with a series of dilemmas:

Alice can't remember her name

The White Rabbit drops his pocket watch

The Cheshire cat gives you a riddle that requires you to choose the correct box or else fight a Heartless waiting in the wrong ones

One card soldier asks you to deliver a potion to a second card soldier for him

A third card soldier is weakened and woozy

You get the Normal Ending by doing at least one of these tasks correctly, the Alternate Ending by doing all of them correctly, and the Extra Ending by doing everything wrong.

In order to get the Extra Ending, you must:

Tell Alice that she's the Queen of Hearts

Pick up the White Rabbit's watch (causing Sora to lose sight of him, unable to return it; you're supposed to just tell him where it is)

Give up on the Cheshire Cat's riddle

Give the potion to the third, weakened card soldier, instead of its intended recipient (it turns out he was just hungry, not injured, so you didn't help him. the second card soldier would have given you a sandwich)

No matter what you do, at the end of each route, the Queen of Hearts will grab your attention and accuse you of being the thief who stole her memory. She'll try to back it up with proof, and even when you've done everything right (which she acknowledges), she still concludes with an "off with your head!" which Sora implicitly runs away from, ending the world's story.

Except for in the Extra Ending.

After she recaps everything you've done wrong up to that point, she drops this dialogue that I haven't been able to stop thinking about:

Queen of Hearts: "Don't tell me you were trying to be NICE? Cheering that girl up by telling her she was important? Giving things away because you thought someone else needed them more? Trying to... to own up to your failures!? Bah! Go on! Off with you!" Data Sora: "Not 'off with my head'?" Queen of Hearts: The punishment must match the crime! See how YOU like having something NICE done to you!"

It's hard to describe what it was about this that's still so striking to me months later, but it's just... kind of off-putting, in a way?

Having the Queen of Hearts choose to spare you as a "more fitting punishment" is out of character enough already, but the fact that it's the consequence to you actually doing everything wrong makes it feel all the more pointed. This is somehow supposed to be worse than being beheaded, and it kind of works, because it feels so much more personal than her usual schtick.

And it exists in such an isolated incident, too. The level is completed immediately after this dialogue, and nothing else is changed by getting it, it's just. there.

At the same time, everything about it feels so deliberate that I can't help but feel like it either is or will be relevant elsewhere somehow. It could just be overanalyzing on my part, but the first thing that comes to mind is actually that the Queen's final line could parallel the consequence of Sora misusing the Power of Waking?

He did so for a good cause, after all, but it wasn't what he was supposed to do. He broke a taboo of nature in the process. But his punishment isn't a straightforward death; he's just put somewhere else, somewhere he can't see his friends. "Off with you," the universe says, "see how you like having something nice done to you!"

...but that doesn't really feel like it's getting to the heart of the matter, which is that Data Sora did not need to do any of this. He could have told Alice her real name, on account of it being the default dialogue option, and he could have tried to figure out what was wrong with that card soldier before giving away stuff that wasn't his. He could have tried a little harder at the riddle. These were all fairly low-stakes situations - in particular, he really didn't need to lie to Alice.

The original Sora didn't have much of a choice in what he did. It was either lose his powers and vanish, or leave Kairi shattered and functionally dead. You can't really say he made the wrong decision, or did something immoral for a superficial reason.

So then... will this line remain an isolated slap in the face to completionist DS players, or will there be more to it? Is there already more to it that I'm missing? Where's our parallel to Data Sora "cheering that girl up by telling her she was important"? What are we supposed to make of "see how you like having something nice done to you"?

What does it all mean???

(In conclusion: go check out the DS versions of these cutscenes, they're great)

#kingdom hearts #kh coded #kh recoded #analysis #meta #data sora #kh sora #I'm curious to hear other people's takes on this because I've genuinely never heard anyone talk about these cutscenes before #It's entirely possible that they're not setting anything up and are just there to be interesting alternatives #but... what if they DO mean something #I can't be losing my mind over this all by myself guys

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 9 months ago

Text

Hello again everyone! Since the "Merlin accidentally conquers Camelot" au won the continuation poll, here's part 2!

NOTE: Part 1 can be found here!

EDIT: Part 3 can be found here!

As a quick recap of this au, during the season 4 finale Merlin was caught by Morgana while trying to plant the burning doll curse that would temporarily lock away her powers, and they have a magic battle that ends with both Morgana and her army slain. Merlin thought that no one saw what happened, but Camelot's lords who serve on the council secretly saw everything. So, when Arthur storms Camelot, ready to take back his throne, he's met with the news that Morgana's already dead and a new sorcerer has claimed the throne of Camelot through the right of conquest, and the lords have unanimously agreed to make this powerful sorcerer king in order to appease him. To everyone's shock, Geoffrey then puts the crown of Camelot on Merlin's head, and Merlin promptly passes out.

And now, onto the new stuff!

When Merlin finally woke up, he jolted awake with a start, frightened by what must have been a terrible nightmare! And truly, it was one of the most horrifying scenarios Merlin's sleeping mind had ever conjured to torture himself with: everyone finding out about his magic, Arthur thinking that Merlin betrayed him, and unintentionally stealing Arthur's kingship!

If the idea wasn't so frightening, Merlin would almost laugh at the absurdity of it: Merlin, king of Camelot! What nonsense! Merlin was Emrys, the other side of the coin to the king; he was certainly never meant to be king himself.

Still, the idea gave Merlin a slight chuckle as he climbed out of his bed and changed into his usual clothes, the soft light of the dawn flittering in through his window. Thank every god out there that his outfit didn't involve a crown!

After he finished tying his neckerchief and pulling on his boots, Merlin opened the door into the main area of Gaius's chambers, ready to eat a quick breakfast with Gaius before collecting Arthur's breakfast and starting his work for the day.

Stepping out into the main chamber, he couldn't find Gaius anywhere, but that wasn't too unusual, given how busy Gaius could be with sudden injuries or illnesses popping up in the lower town at all hours of the night. Humming a bit to himself, Merlin began fixing himself a small bowl of porridge in the chamber's cooking pot, making sure to leave an extra portion for Gaius whenever he returned from his duties.

Merlin ate his breakfast quickly, enjoying the birdsong outside and the beautiful sunrise. Yes, this was exactly what he needed to wash away the awful ideas that his nightmare had conjured up.

After cleaning up their dining table, Merlin made his way towards the door, ready go about his day and do his job as a manservant to moderately acceptable standards! Besides, on the heels of Morgana's invasion, Arthur would need a supportive friend far more than a manservant today.

As Merlin opened the door from Gaius's chambers, however, something was conspicuously different. Namely, the fact that there were two armed guards standing on either side of the door, standing with their backs to the door.

The two guards stiffened and stood at attention as soon as he opened the door, uncrossing their polearms so that they would not be blocking his path as he left Gaius's chambers. Merlin froze at the sight of the guards, staring at their backs. What... what was going on?

"Is... is everything alright? What's this about?"

Was it just him, or did the two guards somehow stiffen up even more at Merlin's words?

After a tense beat of silence, one of the guards cleared his throat and replied, "We were assigned to stand guard over these chambers."

Merlin's brows furrowed with confusion for a moment before he figured out what must have happened, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh, I see! Arthur must have increased security around the castle since Morgana's latest attack. I'm not sure why he considers the physician's quarters to be a potential target, but I'll ask him about it later. Well, I'd better get going or else I'll be late to wake the prat up. Say hello to Gaius for me when he gets back!"

The guards looks confused at his words and opened their mouths to call something out to Merlin, but Merlin was already down the stairs and halfway down the hall before either of them could blink.

Merlin got a lot more strange stares than usual today as he made his way towards the kitchens, with many people outright stopping to gawk at him as he passed. Did he have something odd stuck to his hair or something?

Merlin shrugged off the strange stares for now. He'd have time to look in a mirror and figure out what was so odd about how he looked later, after Arthur had eaten and gotten dressed.

Merlin was still a few minutes away from the kitchens when a caped figure emerged from a servant's passageway and barreled into him, drawing him into a sudden hug. Instinctively, Merlin tensed up at the perceived attack, but he quickly relaxed at the familiar smell of ale and apples that surrounded his laughing "attacker".

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you, Merls!"

Merlin sighed with both relief at seeing his friend in one piece and in high spirits, but also is exasperation.

"Gwaine, I'm very glad to see you again, but what are you doing here? You just spent a week in captivity under Morgana, you're supposed to be resting and recovering, not ambushing unsuspecting servants!"

Gwaine pulled back at Merlin's words, wearing a look of confusion as he studied Merlin's face.

"Ah, but I'm not ambushing a servant, am I?"

"Yes, yes, you're ambushing your friend, since friendship gives you more rights to pull stunts like this and give me more reason to worry over your health."

At that, Gwaine's face pulled into an outright frown, a rare sight to see on the perpetually-grinning knight. Merlin shifted around a bit nervously, unsure of what exactly was happening. Finally, Gwaine spoke again, this time very slowly and gently, as if he was trying to calm down a spooked horse.

"Merlin, what do you remember from yesterday? What was the last thing you remember before falling asleep?"

This time, it was Merlin's turn to frown in confusion at Gwaine's odd questions. What did any of that matter?

"Well, I suppose the last thing I remember was... was storming into the throne room with Arthur and Gwen and being informed of Morgana's death anything after that... I don't quite recall."

He must have hit his head or something after that point, because everything after that was what happened in his nightmare, and there was no way any of that was real. Right?

Merlin watched as Gwaine's frown pulled into a strained smile, his confusion only growing. What was Gwaine so nervous about?

"Well, Merls," Gwaine began, slinging an arm around Merlin's shoulders as he started to lead Merlin away from the kitchens, "a lot happened in between then and now, including some great news!"

Gwaine turned to face Merlin, his smile genuine and mischievous this time, and Merlin knew that grin. That was the grin Gwaine wore right before he was about to get himself into some trouble for a noble cause but would hide it under the guise of "fun".

Merlin sighed deeply, not awake enough to deal Gwaine's antics, even if they was coming from a good place.

"Alright, what's this news of yours?"

If it was possible, Gwaine's mischievous grin grew wider.

"For starters, I got a promotion!"

Merlin stopped in his tracks with shock, halting their walk to... wherever Gwaine was leading him.

"A promotion?! How? Why? What's your new title? Will you be leading other knights?"

Gwaine just shook his head, his hair whipping around and smile still present on his face. He started leading Merlin again as he answered Merlin's questions.

"I know, I had hardly believe it myself! But I took some initiative when it really mattered, and I landed myself this new job! It's not really a leadership role, but I might be leading some knights, and probably some guards too!"

Gwaine finally started to slow their march down as they reached what Merlin assumed was their destination: the doors to the main throne room, where Arthur took his audiences.

As Gwaine stopped before the doors, he turned to look at Merlin again, his smile still bright, but his eyes, Merlin noticed, growing strained again, like there was something greatly troubling him.

"You still haven't told me what this new job actually is though."

This time, Gwaine's smile faltered a bit, and Merlin knew at once that this new job was what was causing Gwaine so much inner turmoil. What job could possibly give Gwaine of all people so much stress?

"Ah, silly me, how could I forget! You'll want to hold onto something before I tell you this, because this will blow you away my friend! I got promoted..."

Gwaine leaned in close, almost like he was about to share a secret with Merlin. Merlin leaned in as well, curious about what position Gwaine's surprising promotion had been to.

"to the king's official bodyguard!" Gwaine revealed in a stage whisper, playing the moment up for dramatic effect in a very Gwaine-like manner.

Merlin jerked backwards in surprise, startled by such unexpected news, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Arthur did seem to be stepping up security in the aftermath of Morgana's latest invasion, so it made sense for him to appoint a loyal and trusted knight to look after Arthur's own safety.

Merlin was strangely pleased with Arthur's decision on this. Arthur was finally prioritizing his own safety, and he had picked a great knight for the job! This might make Merlin's own secret job of protecting Arthur much easier! Gwaine would certainly take any of Merlin's warnings of danger to Arthur seriously, and he trusted Merlin enough that he wouldn't question where Merlin got any of his information.

Merlin smiled back at his friend, happy about both this new opportunity for his friend and about the changes it would bring. Yes, this was great!

"That's amazing Gwaine! Do you want to stop by the tavern tonight to celebrate?"

Gwaine laughed a bit at that, still looking oddly tense. For some unknown reason, apprehension started pooling in Merlin's stomach, telling him that something wasn't right here. No, there was something else going on.

"Thanks for the offer mate, but I'm afraid that it wouldn't be a good look for me to be seen drinking on my first night on the job. Besides, I have a feeling that you'll be a little busy this evening too."

Merlin's confusion only grew with each passing second.

"What do you mean by that?"

Gwaine didn't answer him, only giving Merlin a small, almost sad smile. It looked disturbingly out of place on the boisterous Gwaine, ratchetting Merlin's confusion and dread up even further.

Without another word, Gwaine turned and opened the doors to the throne room, revealing the entire council of lords congregated within, giving Merlin rather violent flashbacks to his nightmare.

No, no, nothing as disastrous as Merlin being publicly announced as a sorcerer and then getting crowned king in front of Arthur and Gwen could ever happen in real life. It was simply too absurd.

Merlin watched, frozen at the threshold of the room, as the lords' heads all turned towards the door at the sound of it swinging open. To Merlin's rising dread, they all rose from their seats at the sight of him.

No no no no....

Merlin frantically looked around, hoping to all of the gods of the Old Religion that Arthur was somewhere nearby, because the council only rose for the entrance of the king...

Merlin turned around, hoping to find Arthur standing around somewhere, anywhere, as dread began closing its claws around his heart, which was beating at the rating that Merlin would be concerned about if he could process anything other than his own all-consuming terror at that moment.

Because it wasn't a nightmare, was it? No, that was real. His worst fears had come to life in the most horrifying way possible, and he was powerless to stop it now.

If the lords of the council noticed Merlin's frantic terror, they didn't acknowledge it. Instead, apparently, they decided to only confirm Merlin's deepest fears. After a tense moment of utter silence in the room, broken only by Merlin's jagged breathing, Geoffrey finally stepped forward.

"Ah, welcome Your Majesty! I hope you're feeling better now after you've rested and recovered from your battle against Morgana. There is much to discuss concerning these first crucial days of your reign, including your public coronation, having all knights who are willing to renounce the Pendragon line swear their fealty to you, and determining the fates of those who already refuse to accept your rule."

For what felt like an eternity, Merlin simply stood there, his mind refusing to cooperate or even process what he was being told. He couldn't move a single muscle in his body, paralyzed by horror. He was only snapped out of his fugue state by Gwaine taking ahold of his arm and guiding him towards the table.

Inhaling sharply as he was pushed by Gwaine closer to the lords, he finally processed what Geoffrey had told him. Oh gods, a coronation?! So all of Arthur's kingdom could see how he had stolen Arthur's throne?! Forcing knights to turn their backs on Arthur and renounce their loyalty to him?! This was madness and, not to mention, the exact opposite of what Merlin wanted!

And what was that about punishing people for refusing to accept him as king? Hell, Merlin should reward the dissenters if anything, since they were apparently the only ones who still had any good sense left in this kingdom! Who in their right mind would immediately accept Merlin as their king anyway?!

Right, Merlin thought as his eyes wandered over the faces of the lords, spineless cowards with no loyalty who would turn their backs on their true king to save their own hides, that's who.

Well, the applied to the lords at least, but that still didn't explain what Gwaine was doing here, by Merlin's side, when he should be with Arthur and the other knights!

... Where were Arthur and the other knights?

A jolt of fear once again shot through Merlin, this time alongside guilt. Where was Arthur? What had happened to him? The council had foolishly stripped him of his title, and then what?

Clearing his dry throat, Merlin finally responded, "Geoffrey, what happened after I lost consciousness yesterday? Where is Arthur?"

After Merlin was finished speaking, the lords started shifting around nervously, which began to set of warning bells in Merlin's mind.

Something had happened after he fainted yesterday. Something that involved Arthur.

"Well, Your Majesty, following your loss of consciousness yesterday, the former King Arthur lost his temper and began yelling, shouting everything from accusing us of lies and treason to cursing out the sacred laws of the land. He then ran throughout the castle and began calling upon his knights for aid, explaining the situation to them in crude terms and demanding that they take back the crown from you by force."

Merlin grimaced at Geoffrey's monotone explanation, horrific visions of Arthur calling for his execution as a sorcerer and traitor running through his mind.

"Many of Arthur's knights rallied to his cause, but there were some who were hesitant to turn their blades against you, no doubt recognizing your power and your true claim to the throne. It was from that group that your loyal Sir Gwaine arose, leading a small group of knights and guards in a surprise attack that concluded with the former king and his knights locked in the dungeon cells, awaiting your judgement."

Merlin eyes flew wide at Geoffrey's words, his heading whipping around to meet Gwaine's gaze. Gwaine had betrayed Arthur in such a terrible way? For him?

In response to Merlin's horrified stare, Gwaine simply gave him his most innocent smile, as if nothing was wrong at all and Merlin's world wasn't crumbling around him.

No, this wasn't happening. Merlin had to fix this, and he had to fix it now.

"Look, Geoffrey, I am honored that you and the other lords feel so strongly that I am supposed to be Camelot's king, but that is not meant to be. I was never meant to rule over anything. This is Arthur's kingdom, and I will not be the one to take it from him."

All of the lords around the table look utterly confused, as if Merlin was speaking a completely different language. That was expected, Merlin supposed, if they had never seen anyone willingly give up power. Gwaine, however, just looked amused, like he knew that this was exactly what would happen.

"While that is a most gracious sentiment Your Majesty, I'm afraid that it isn't that simple."

Merlin groaned at Geoffrey's words, bemoaning the fact that the world could never let anything in his life be simple.

"Shouldn't it be?! I'm apparently the king now, so I order you to release Arthur and the knights from the dungeons and to give Arthur his kingship back!"

This time, it was Geoffrey's turn to sigh deeply, as the old man pulled a rather hefty- and dusty- scroll from his bag.

"This," Geoffrey began as he unrolled the yellowed parchment, "is Bruta's code, written by the Great King himself. This set of laws are the foundation on which all of the five kingdoms are governed, and Camelot is no exception. All kings of this Isle, no matter how powerful, are subject to these laws, lest the entire realm fall into anarchy."

Merlin was valiantly holding back the urge to bash his head into the council table. Why couldn't he clear this situation up as painlessly as possible?!

"The code addresses many subjects, and both the right of conquest and the rules of succession are outlined within. I'm terribly sorry Your Majesty, but the code clearly states that when a king who is not of royal blood ascends to the throne through the right of conquest, the previous royal family loses any and all claim to the throne, alongside their lands and wealth, essentially leaving them with no titles or claim to nobility at all. This measure was originally put in place to ban the defeated family from endlessly challenging the victor of the conquest in a bid to regain their former throne and wasting the new ruler's precious time."

Merlin's heart dropped even more at Geoffrey's words. Great, he had not only stolen Arthur's kingdom, but he had also stolen everything Arthur owned! Gods, what did Arthur hate Merlin more for at the moment, being a secret powerful sorcerer ever since they met or inadvertently stripping him of his title, lands, and all his possessions?

"I still don't see why this would forbid me from freely giving Arthur the throne back."

"Your Majesty, the former king is no longer a noble, as the Pendragon line is no longer recognized as a noble house. As such, Arthur is now, by law, a peasant, and it is against Bruta's code for a ruler to cede their throne to anyone but a noble for any period of time."

Merlin bit back a frustrated scream. Why, why?! Why couldn't he just make Arthur a noble again and be done with this farce and-

Wait a minute.

There was a way to make Arthur a noble.

Oh no, Arthur was going to hate this. But, Merlin steeled himself, this was the only way to make things right.

And that's all for now! I had a lot of fun making Gwaine the ultimate "ride or die" bestie for Merlin in this situation lol! I'll definitely be doing a part three of this au soon to resolve this cliffhanger!

Please let me know what you all thought of this continuation!

A huge thank you to everyone who supported my last au post and asked for this continuation! I'll try to tag you all here, my apologies if I missed anyone!

@cookie-player , @miyriu , @nebulousconstellationwriter , @insane-multifandom-brainrot , @elementalpirate4 ,

@tidalwavesandthunderstorms , @gaiussleechtank , @arrowlovesdragons , @lordmushroomkat , @bucketheadpunk14 ,

@retro-wallflower , @ryeallytired , @verxen , @mind-of-a-crow , @aostrek-236 ,

@thedragonkinproject , @orliththedragon , @theroundbartable , @my-own-quiet-corner , @tireddruid ,

@coffee-shop-gay , @sable-nakahara , @deadhotpocket , @bennedict , @samwinjester ,

@linotheghost , @aerismoon , @merthurogies , @ahumoki0 , @chairwiththreelegs ,

@achillesuwu , @pancakesandpigs , @the-king-and-the-druidess , @sugar-coated-prat-dragon , @isaidno ,

@justaz , @auldsusie

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

EDIT: A question for those of you I'm tagging, I'm not sure if this is a tumblr issue or if I'm screwing something up on my end, but after the first few tagged blogs, it shows up on my screen like the tags are just plain text and not linked to anything. So, for those of you that are tagged, can you confirm that you're getting a notification when I tag you? I want to make sure everyone who requested a continuation knows when it's posted!

2nd EDIT: I've tried to fix the tag problem, I'm very sorry if you already saw this post and then got a notification!

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merlin au #merthur #merlin prompts #king merlin #gwaine

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r-memberme · 1 month ago

Text

sharing type | k.p

⎯⎯ He’s already halfway to imagining their bones broken in alphabetical order.

warnings: fluff

The Mystic Grill buzzed with its usual half-hearted charm—dim string lights flickering overhead, lazy country music floating from the jukebox, and the scent of onion rings clinging to everything like a curse. You sat beside Elena in a corner booth, sipping a strawberry soda through a striped straw, one leg curled beneath you as you listened to her recap the latest Salvatore drama.

Kai and Damon had wandered off to the bar to pretend they could stand each other for more than ten minutes. So far, no blood had been spilled. A win, in your book.

You gave her a sly grin. “They’re growing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Barely.”

Elena glances at you the moment the shadows fall across your table—two strangers, tall, arrogant, too sure of themselves. They lean in, leering, stinking of cheap cologne and worse intentions, voices slick with the same tired charm they’ve probably used on half the bar.

You don’t even blink. Just sip your drink and exchange the look.

That silent, unimpressed look shared only by women who’ve seen gods bleed. The do they have any idea who our men are? look. The should we warn them or let them die oblivious? look.

You sigh—long, theatrical, drenched in boredom—and place your glass down with deliberate care. The straw shifts like a white flag in the cup. Then you twist in your seat, letting them see the full force of your disdain. Your expression could cut glass.

“See that guy over there?” you say, voice feather-light, motioning with your chin toward the bar.

Kai hasn’t looked away since the moment the men approached. He’s perched on the stool like a lounging serpent, elbow on the counter, eyes glinting beneath lazy lashes. Still, there's nothing lazy about the way he watches. His gaze is lethal—like a knife dipped in something slow and fatal.

He’s already halfway to imagining their bones broken in alphabetical order.

“The one who looks like he’s moments from setting someone on fire with his mind?” you continue sweetly, tilting your head just so. “That’s my boyfriend.”

Elena, perfectly timed, gestures at Damon—who’s swirling his bourbon like it holds the last nerve he has left, already glaring hard enough to burn holes through both men.

“And mine’s the one who’s murdered people for less,” she says with a bright, innocent smile.

The men freeze.

Smirks falter. Confidence flickers.

One of them clears his throat, the sound dry and nervous. “Oh. Uh. You’re with… them?”

“Mhm,” you chirp, rising from the booth like it’s a stage and you’ve just been cued. Elena moves in tandem, the both of you calm, polished, rehearsed.

The strangers barely have time to stammer out an excuse before Kai shifts.

He doesn’t move much—just turns to face them, slow and serpentine, one brow arching with something between amusement and malice. His fingers twitch like he’s already chosen which spell to use. Not if—which.

The men take one look at him—truly look—and bolt like someone shouted fire.

Cowards.

You and Elena stroll back to the bar like you��re returning from a casual walk. Damon spares a glance over his glass and mutters, “Trouble?”

Elena shrugs. “Handled.”

Kai is still watching you, eyes narrowed, chest rising a little too slowly. You reach out and press your hand to his sternum—firm and warm beneath your palm.

“They weren’t worth it,” you murmur. “Just two boys playing brave.”

“I wasn’t going to kill them,” he lies.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I was just mentally planning their funerals,” he amends, with a slight pout. “That’s different.”

You grin, rising up on your toes to kiss the edge of his mouth—the corner, barely there, featherlight. He sucks in a breath like it startles him every time. Like the softness always strikes harder than the fire.

“You’re adorable when you’re unhinged,” you whisper.

Kai huffs. But you see the way he glows under your praise—subtle, hesitant, like he’s not quite used to being loved this way. Not yet. But he wants to be.

Damon groans something foul about lovebirds, but neither of you hear him.

Kai’s already tugging you gently toward the door, his fingers tangled through yours with an urgency he can’t mask.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs, low and rough into your ear. “Before I accidentally test a fire spell.”

༊*·˚

The door barely clicks shut behind you before Kai’s already kicking off his shoes, peeling off his jacket, and sprawling dramatically across your couch like he owns the place.

And to be fair—he kind of does.

He’s been slowly overtaking your space like ivy: leaving books open on your counters, jackets slung over chairs, a set of rings on your nightstand that you’re pretty sure he thinks you haven’t noticed. His toothbrush showed up in your bathroom three weeks ago without a word.

You haven’t asked him about it. He hasn’t offered. But he’s here more often than not, and you like it that way.

“Movie time,” he announces, claiming the middle cushion like it’s a throne and opening his arms wide like he expects tribute.

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean our movie night? The one where I pick the movie because last time you picked The Shining and then asked why I don’t sleep with the lights off anymore?”

Kai shrugs, wholly unbothered. “Not my fault Jack Nicholson is a cinematic genius.”

“He tried to murder his family.”

“With style,” Kai says, deadpan.

You throw a pillow at his face. He lets it hit him dramatically, like you’ve wounded him. Flops sideways and groans, sprawled like a fallen king.

Eventually, you settle on something safe and cozy—an old rom-com, something where no one dies and everyone ends up kissed. Kai grumbles at first, makes sarcastic comments for the first fifteen minutes, but his hand finds yours anyway. Lazy fingers playing with your knuckles. Thumb brushing over your wrist like it calms him to feel you breathing.

It’s not long before he shifts closer. And then closer again. Until your legs are tangled and his head is buried against your shoulder, nose in your neck like he’s trying to breathe you in.

“You smell good,” he mutters into your collarbone.

You hum, threading your fingers through his hair. “Better than popcorn?”

“Better than blood.”

You snort. “Romantic.”

He grins against your skin. “I’m serious. You smell like… peace. And cinnamon. And that one shampoo that says it’s made of like, eleven herbs and doesn’t specify what any of them are.”

You laugh and tip your head back, letting it rest against the cushions. Kai just watches you for a moment. Soft-eyed. Quiet. Like he can’t believe this is real.

And maybe he can’t.

He shifts again, tugging the blanket over both of you. His arm winds around your waist, snug, protective, heavy in a way that feels more grounding than suffocating. His voice is softer now, low and earnest:

“Thank you.”

You blink. “For what?”

“For not running away. For… making room for me. Even when I make it hard.”

Your hand curls instinctively into his shirt.

“You make it easy, Kai.”

He lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for days. You lean in, press your forehead to his, let silence bloom soft between you. The only sound is the TV droning on in the background and the quiet rhythm of your hearts.

Eventually, he murmurs:

“I’d kill anyone for you.”

You smile, eyes fluttering closed. “I know.”

“And I’d only sort of feel bad about it.”

“Progress.”

He chuckles against your skin. “I’m working on it.”

You kiss his temple, slow and fond. “I know.”

And then you both fall silent again. Wrapped in warmth. Wrapped in each other.

Kai Parker—terrifying, reckless, half-reformed mess of a man—falls asleep on your chest twenty minutes later, soft snores muffled against your t-shirt.

You don’t move.

Not even when the credits roll. Not even when your arm goes numb.

Because it’s Kai. And for once, he feels safe. And more than that—he trusts you.

You’re not moving. Not yet.

Not ever, if he had anything to say about it.

thank you to @sc4rrc for the request <3 I hope you enjoyed it!!

feel free to request fics with kai again! <3

taglist: @ohapple

@myworldrightnow

@deactiveblogx

@witch-of-letters

@xtwistedchaosx

@liataylorsversion

@pardonmydelayyy

@siredbyklausm

#kai parker #kai parker x reader #tvd fanfiction #tvd fandom #the vampire diaries #fluff #light angst #.docx

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deusfoundry · 4 months ago

Text

if zayne had any say in it, he'd have med student!reader's exams moved to another week so you can go through the brunt of your period without having to bury yourself in stacks of books and flashcards.

but he doesn't.

so zayne does what he knows best—make the pain more bearable, the challenges you face easier.

he lets you sleep in, brushing the hair curtaining your face away to plant a kiss on your forehead before he heads out. he comes home an hour later, strong arms carrying bags stuffed with menstrual products and your favorite snacks, having already placed an order to your favorite restaurant.

you're already awake by the time he sets the goods down on the floor of his bedroom.

it's clear to zayne, though, that you don't have the strength to stand up, let alone walk all the way to the desk in his office, body curling into yourself as you whimper in pain, so he sets up a foldable table he was gifted years back on his bed. he coaxes you into propping yourself up against his headboard, a cautious hand making sure you don't hit the back of your head on the wood.

he gathers all the materials you need study and begins to recap to you the topics. his voice is low, steady as an anchor. his hand acts as a hot compress, pressed over your lower abdomen, fingers drawing circles to massage the flesh and ease the pain. he makes sure you're able to soak in every bit of information that comes out of his mouth, asking you questions in between with the promise of a reward if you get them right. he even lets you take more breaks than he usually would, incredibly lenient and succumbing to whatever you want if you so much as whine.

the rest of his day is spent in bed with you, surrounded by your notes and empty takeout containers and crumpled bags of candies and chips on the floor. and when you wake up the next morning, you're more than ready to take on your exam.

zayne can't make the world pause over your suffering, but he can and will help you bear the weight on your shoulders.

a/n: notice how med student!reader only comes out when i, too, am suffering over my course ... anyways i actually think this sucks ass but im on my period everything hurts i need to study but i dont want to study anymore so this is the best i can do for now (not proofread btw)

#zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader #zayne fluff #love and deepspace fluff #zayne x med student!reader #deusfoundry writes!

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amoebadue · 3 days ago

Text

MISCOMMUNICATION

Bob Reynolds (Sentry) x Reader (Female Reader)

Contains: Mature Themes; kidnapping, murder, guns, violence, Void, threats, choking, I can’t think of anything else off the top of my head

Reader described as having hair but everything else should be fairly neutral? Jealous Bob, Jealous Reader, Miscommunication (duh lol), Bob needs a hug, mutual pining, yearning (from both), John Walker being himself? Yelena’s just trying to help, Bucky needs a nap, Reader wears a dress (picture Anastasia’s Opera Gown)

Word Count: ~10k

A/N: This is my first fic ever so please be kind. Feel free to give (friendly) feedback!!! Let me know what you guys think of this!!

Yelena had planned a girls night to find dresses for Valentina’s gala later that week. She insisted it would be good “team-bonding” (at least for the female half of our team).

“I’ll be okay. It’s not like you’ll be gone long…right?” Bob looked at You with a nervous grin.

“We’ll only be gone for a couple hours. And if you need me, I can always fake a migraine and come home early.” You winked at him. He grinned back.

“Now get up,” tugging his arm, You pulled him out of bed, “we have ‘family breakfast’ since we’ll be gone for dinner.”

—

“Order up!” Alexei had not woken up as early as he had planned. Now he has Walker, Bucky, and Bob running an assembly line of breakfast food. He tried to pass it off as “making today a girl’s day rather than just a girl’s night”. The girls weren’t about to argue with him.

“Why can’t we just eat cereal?” John muttered as he angrily flipped pancakes.

“I like cereal!” Bob looked longingly at the cabinet that held the New Avengers themed wheaties, before Alexei stood, arms crossed, between Bob and his beloved breakfast food.

“You can have cereal tomorrow. When we can have another family dinner instead.” Everyone groaned.

“We don’t need to have ‘family dinner’ every night, you know.” Ava sniped.

BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP.

“AHHHH Bob!! The bacon!!!” Alexei started waving his arms frantically as Bob turned back to the stove. Where there used to be a pan with bacon, there was now a 3 foot tall grease fire.

“Pour water! Get water!” Alexei yelled at John as he ran to the sink.

“That is not how you put out a grease fire!” Alexei was already running back to the stove with the glass of water.

“Walker, stop him!” Bucky rubbed his face, already exasperated.

Bob had backed himself into the corner. Coincidentally (or not), he was right next to the cereal cabinet. He grabbed the box and several bowls as he made his way back to the table.

Or he tried to get back to the table, only to be stopped as John’s shield flew past him and into Alexei’s back.

Alexei fell to the ground with his cup.

“The water! NOOOOO!”

Bucky stepped over the fallen body and put a baking sheet over the burning pan.

“Guess we’re having cereal. Again.” He side eyed Bob who was happily pouring cereal into his bowl.

You turned to Bob as he slid your bowl over, “Did you do that on purpose?”

He just winked at you. You snorted and smacked his chest lightly.

The team ate their cereal in silence. Mostly. There was the occasional sigh from Alexei as he gazed sadly at the messy kitchen.

—

After breakfast you returned to your and Bob’s shared room to finish some reports. Bob followed.

As soon as the door shut, he spoke.

“I totally did that on purpose.” Your cheeks burned red as you laughed. Reaching for her laptop, you settled into Bob’s side as he sat on the bed. He wrapped his arm around you.

“I knew it!”

After your mutual laughing fit, he turned on the tv to that week’s sports news recap while you finished writing reports. By the time you finished, it was 4 o’clock. Soon enough, Yelena would be knocking on the door to get you to leave.

You stood up and stretched. He looked at you with a lazy grin.

“You could always stay here, you know. I’m sure they’d pick a dress you’d look good in. You look good in everything.” His cheeks flushed a light pink.

You held his face in your hands and put your foreheads together.

“You flatter me. You’re very persuasive, you know.” You murmured lowly. His breath hitched. You pulled away. “But not persuasive enough.” You laughed as you took a step back.

He grabbed your hand and you turned to face him.

“Can you at least tell me what color dress you’re getting?”

“It’s a surprise! Plus I won’t know until I find it,” You leaned down and placed a quick kiss on his jaw, “But don’t worry, I’ll get you a tie to match.” And then you were gone.

—

You hadn’t expected there to be this many dresses to choose from. Rows and rows of different colored gowns filled the department store.

“Over here.” Yelena dragged you to the back corner, away from the salespeople who were whispering excitedly as they side eyed the group of 3.

Before entering the store, the girls sat in a coffee shop across the street. Yelena insisted they go over the plan.

“Our objective: Find (each of us) a dress for Valentina’s gala.”

“I need to get a tie for Bob, also. So we can match.” Ava snorted. Yelena gave you a pointed look.

“We’ll get the tie after-” Yelena huffed and turned to Ava, who hadn’t stopped laughing.

“Sorry, sorry. They’re just so…cute. Matching tie. Honestly.” She snorted, “Bob, The Sentry…Void. Having a matching tie. The same guy that encompassed all of New York in darkness a year ago, wants to match his girlfriend. It’s cute. It’s funny.” The girls all looked at each other and burst into laughter. It was another several minutes before they called down enough to listen to Yelena go over their battle plan (shopping itinerary).

Mission Objective : Find a dress

Secondary Objective : Avoid all contact with other people

To make it a little more fun, the girls decided that the first one to be approached by someone out of their group has to pay for the other girl’s dresses.

Ava decided to go to the stay at the front and regroup after she found something that would fit over her suit.

At the back of the store, You and Yelena got to work shifting through the dresses on the racks.

“This dress would go perfect with your eyeliner.” You held up a blue dress for Yelena to see.

“It’s too…big.” You looked down. You had to agree with Yelena, it was rather poofy. “But the color is nice.” Yelena continued, “I was thinking maybe I’d try something green.”

“Okay, well there’s some green dresses over there,” You pointed to the rack against the wall, “These are all too blue.”

“Maybe you should get a blue dress. It would go with those shoes you got the other week.”

“Good idea! But I definitely need something less…” You looked at Yelena, “Big.” You both said at the same time and then promptly burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Ava phased through the wall behind the rack they were standing in front of.

“Nothing, just thinking about how you could hide the entire tower under here.” That set off another fit of giggles.

“Oh well, I found my dress. I could probably just take it and they wouldn’t notice.” The girls looked over to the salespeople who were trying to placate a woman yelling about their return policy.

She snorted, “I can’t imagine Valentina would be too happy about one of her New Avengers robbing a clothing store.”

“Suppose not. Oh well. Hopefully we don’t have to return anything.” More laughter.

“Oh wow.” You gasped. Stepping away from the other girls. There at the end of the rack was the most beautiful dress You’d ever seen. It was a strapless dark blue dress with a glittery sheer cape.

“That’s the one.” Yelena peeked over your shoulder.

Ava hummed in agreement, “You have to get it.”

“Now that we all have our dresses, we can check out. Since nobody was approached by anyone, maybe we should charge it to Valentina’s card. I mean…she is the one insisting we attend the gala.” They shared mischievous looks and burst into a fit of giggles.

“Maybe we should also buy dinner with her card since we had to spend our free time preparing for a work event.”

“Yes!”

—

Back at the tower the boys had finished their 14th round of competitive Mario Kart. Alexei kept losing and demanded a rematch every time. Eventually, he rage-quit but was able to unsuccessfully play it off as getting the pizzas they had ordered.

As soon as the elevator closes, John starts, “How can he drive people around in a limo and still be so bad at driving games.”

Bucky snorts, “You’re one to talk! How can you be so loud but still say nothing?” He laughs before a pillow smacks him in the face. That just makes him laugh harder.

“Whatever, man. The real question is how Bob managed to win every single race.”

“I had a lot of time to practice when you guys were all on missions and stuff.”

John gave him an incredulous look and scoffed, “And you chose to pass the time with Mario Kart?”

“Yeah,” he laughs as he says your name, “She always wants to play when she can’t sleep.” John laughs at the dazed look in his eyes as he talks about You.

Bucky cuts in and repeats your name, “How’s that going?”

Bob’s cheeks start turning pink, “Good…really good. She’s always around. She’s even getting me a tie that’ll match her dress.”

John let out a loud laugh, “Geez, you guys are always together! And matching ties? How clingy is she!?” He snorts. “Do you ever get a second alone?”

Bob flushes at this, “Well, I mean…sometimes she has training or paperwork, but she tries to do the paperwork where she can sit by me.” Bob pauses as he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his sweater. He flinches when a door shuts down the hall, “But I really don’t mind. If anything, I’m the one that wants her around.”

John nods at this but Bucky frowns at the empty doorway. He could’ve sworn he’d seen You.

—

By the time You and the girls had returned from the store, You were exhausted. Yelena offered to hide your dress so Bob wouldn’t see it before the gala. You accepted. Now all you wanted to do was curl up in bed with Bob while he ran his fingers through your hair (his favorite pastime).

Unfortunately, your plans were thwarted after hearing the guys talking in the common room. After hearing Bob say you were always with him and then hearing him agree when John called you clingy, you were not all too ready to cuddle up with that man.

You thought Bob would want to match. It’s only his second gala. And your first as a couple! You’d been dating for 7 months now, and you thought having you around had helped him keep calm. At least that’s what he’d told you. Had he lied to you? He wouldn’t do that…right? You tucked the tie into the bottom drawer of your nightstand.

No, you decided, he wouldn’t…Would he?

A knock on the door took you out of your thoughts.

You cracked open the door to see Yelena standing there, “Oh. Hey.” You cleared your throat, “What’s up?”

“Ava and I are going to watch a rom-com. Do you want to watch?” Yelena squinted at you, “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine! Just a bit tired. I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Plus you didn’t want to risk running into Bob right now.

Shutting the door, you shook your head and told yourself that you’d feel better in the morning.

—

By the time Yelena got to the common area, Ava had already appeared with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“You cannot kick us out just for ‘girls night’, Ava.”

“Yes they can!” Bob jumped up excitedly.

“Oh shut up Bob, you just want to make your girlfriend happy!”

“What’s wrong with-”

“Speaking of your girlfriend, she’s going to bed early.” Yelena interrupted. Bob nodded, moving quicker so he could get to you before you fell asleep.

He went to walk past Yelena, but she grabbed his arm. He gave her a questioning look.

“She said she was tired, but…she didn’t look well.”

Worry filled his eyes, “Is she sick?” They flashed silver, “Hurt?”

“No, no. I think she’s just…well, I’m not sure.” She paused, “Just let me know if she needs anything.”

He nodded and headed for his room, his pace quicker than normal.

John snorted as he left, “Maybe he is the clingy one.”

Everyone laughed at that.

—

Bob knocked hesitantly on the door. Furrowing his brows when he doesn’t hear your voice.

He cracks open the door and seeing that the lights are off, decides to whisper your name, “Are you still awake?”

You were never able to fall asleep easily without him. Or at least that’s what you’d told him. Maybe you really weren’t feeling well.

He approaches the bed and places the back of his hand against your forehead. No fever. He decides to get ready for bed.

After he brushes his teeth he grabs a cup and fills its with water. Placing it on your nightstand, he notices that you’re facing away from his side of the bed. Had he done something? Were you mad at him? No, you were fine when you left. Maybe you really were sick.

He walked around to his side of the bed and laced down. Facing you, he counted your heart rate. He frowned. Your heart was beating much faster than it normally did when you were asleep. You must be really sick. He needs to call a doctor. As he went to reach for you, you flinched slightly. You’re awake, he realized, and ignoring him.

His frown deepened. Maybe you really were mad at him.

He stays up, waiting for you to turn and face him. You don’t.

—

The next morning you wake to an empty bed. You frown. Bob is always in bed longer than you, even if he wakes up first. Maybe he really did want space.

You pushed the covers aside and got up. How could I have pushed him away? Why doesn’t he want me anymore? Maybe he thinks I don’t appreciate him? At this thought you start to make the bed. And rinse the water cup he’d given you.

Your heart hurts. Even when you annoy him, he’s still thoughtful. You think he’s too good for you.

After tidying the rest of the room, you gets ready for training. Maybe you can talk to him then.

—

Bob walked back to the room, the two coffee cups were shaking in his hands. He’d hoped they could talk over coffee. He hoped you’d want to talk.

Opening the door he backed in. He took a deep breath and turned to-

Nothing. The room was empty. The bed was made. He felt like al the air had been knocked from his chest. He always made the bed. He liked feeling useful. Needed. Especially by you.

The cup of water he’d given you was gone too. In fact, the whole room was clean.

Maybe you really didn’t need him. Maybe that’s why you were distant last night. Maybe you’d finally realized you were too good for him.

—

When he got to the training room, you were already standing at the bench. Setting your water bottle down as you spoke softly to John. Bob frowned as he looked at you. Did you always stand that close to John?

A hand on his shoulder shook him out of his thoughts. Yelena gave him a strange look as he turned to face her.

“Are you alright, Bob?”

“Fine.” She frowned. He stomped past her to the punching bags. He wanted to hit something. Or someone.

Your laughter rang out behind him. He glared at the bag in front of him, not wanting to turn and see you laughing at something he said.

“Bob, what’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing.” She didn’t need to know how true that was. Nothing was going on with them. She wouldn’t even look at him. He shook his head, maybe she’s just having a bad day.

“Okay let’s pair up! We’ll switch through stations around the room.” Bucky’s voice rang out as he stepped into the training room.

Yelena grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the mat, “Let’s be partners.”

Bob hadn’t wanted to be partners with Yelena. He wanted to pair up with you. Maybe he should let you train without him. Maybe you just need some space.

—

Hearing Bucky’s order, you turned to face Bob, wanting to pair up with him. Hopefully you’d be able to talk then. But instead you watched as Yelena pulled him to the mat. He didn’t even look at you.

John said your name softly, “Wanna pair up?”

You looked past him, back at Bob. He was already looking at you. He smiled at you, you noted that his smile looked tense. You furrowed your brows. What’s wrong with him? Is he okay? Maybe he really had gotten tired of you. Maybe you should just give him some space.

You focused your gaze back on John. He grinned.

“So?” He prompted.

“Yeah, of course!” You smiled back, albeit not as wide as you normally would, he noted.

John nodded towards the mat and started heading in that direction.

Okay, you thought, let’s get this over with.

You looked back at Bob, who was laughing at something Yelena said.

Maybe he just needs some space. Then maybe he'd want you around again. Maybe then he’d choose you as his partner. Maybe he just needs some space.

—

If he had to watch Walker pin you to the ground one more time he was going to break something. Preferably Walker himself.

CRACK.

He looked down. The metal weight he’d been holding was now snapped in two.

“Easy, Bob. Valentina’s going to throw a fit if we break anymore of her ‘state of the art training machinery’,” Yelena grinned, “What has gotten you so worked up, anyways?”

She looked towards the mat where you and John were sparring.

She laughed before speaking, “Oh Bob, you have nothing to worry about. Her and Walker are just friends. Plus she loves you.” He wasn’t so sure about that anymore. But he couldn’t let Yelena know. Not until he was sure.

Shaking his head, he tried to push those thoughts away…to no avail.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“She does, Bob.” She looked back towards John, “Plus he is a good friend. He’d never do something like that to you.”

“I guess.” She frowned at his seemingly limited vocabulary, maybe she should just try to distract him. Maybe he’d feel better then, she thought.

A loud obnoxious (or so thought Bob) laugh cut her off before she could speak.

CRACK.

And there goes another weight.

—

Lunch hadn’t gone any better. Neither had dinner. At lunch, Bob chose to sit in his regular seat, hoping you would sit next to him — as you normally did.

You didn’t. You hadn't even gone to lunch. And neither had Walker. And then he hadn’t seen you at all that afternoon.

Then you arrived late to dinner. Your smile exasperated as you sat in the seat next to John, who had arrived shortly before you. Bob frowned at his plate. Was he that easily replaceable?

—

You were distracted during training. John had beaten you every time you sparred. Each match had ended with you pinned to the mat, confused as one second you were looking at Bob and the next you were being slammed into the ground.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s wrong with you today?”

You looked at John, who held his hand out to help you up. You rolled your eyes. Now he wanted to be a gentleman. Unlike moments before when he’d body slammed you.

“Nothings wrong.”

He scoffed, “Sure. Nothings wrong.” He looked at where Yelena and Bob were weight training. What that man needed to lift weights for was beyond him. Maybe he just wanted to show off in front of his girlfriend. He snorted at that. “Why aren’t you paired up with your boyfriend?”

You glared at him, “He obviously wanted to train with Yelena. It’s not like we always have to be together, all the time.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Are you jealous?” He followed you to the bench. Chuckling softly as you attempted to escape his questioning.

He bit back a laugh as you snapped a quick no.

“You’re totally jealous.” This time he didn’t hold back his laughter.

“I’m not. But whatever. Think what you want.” You shot him a quick glare as you took a drink of water. He gave you a pointed look. “Go away.”

“You don’t want me to go away. Because then you’d be alone because your boyfriend would rather hang out with blondie than you.”

You gasped and smacked his arm. “You are such a jerk. It’s no wonder your wife left you.”

He snorted. “That’s a low blow.” He wiped the sweat off his brow. “Anyways, I still need to get new dress shoes for the gala,” he glanced at you sideways, “after your boyfriend's last incident. Anyways, wanna come with? It would probably do you some good to get out of the tower.”

“I was just gone like half of yesterday. But sure. Whatever.” He snorted once again at your passive-aggressive response.

—

Several hours later you and John had returned from your shopping endeavors. At lunch, he had managed to worm his way into your mind and make you admit that you were, in fact, jealous of Yelena.

He had assured you there was no reason to be. You had confided that you worried he might be getting sick of your presence.

John had laughed obnoxiously and incessantly at that. Once he’d finally managed to calm down he’d said, “I am certain there is no way that Bobby doesn’t want you around. He’s practically obsessed with you. I think he’d glue himself to you…if he didn’t hate the feel of glue on his hands. Actually, he might just do it anyway.”

You hummed dismissively as you looked out the window. How could he say that? He was there with Bob last night. He was the one Bob was talking to. He was the one that had called you clingy. Not the only one, she thought.

You’d never taken John for a liar, but you also never thought you’d lose Bob to your clinginess.

You considered that it would probably be annoying having you around all the time. He never gets any time alone. But you worried about him. You knew how he got when he was alone. You thought your presence made him feel better, but maybe not. Maybe you had overestimated your place in his life. He was the ‘Golden god’ after all. And you were…nothing compared to him. You shook your head.

“We should get going. Your shoes aren’t going to find themselves.” You redirected the conversation.

“You’re such a dork.” He snorted at the look you gave him.

“And you’re an abomination, don’t talk to me.” He snickered as he held the door open for you.

—

In the elevator at the tower, John had told you to talk to Bob after dinner. He’d reminded you that he and Yelena were just friends.

“Plus he always wants to be with you. You’re the one he chooses to spar with. Yelena was the one that picked him as her partner earlier, not the other way around. And, he always sits by you at meals.”

You smiled at him. You felt a bit more confident about your relationship with Bob now after speaking to him. John was a good friend, some of the time. You frowned as you remembered his conversation with Bob last night. You shook your head. You walked past him as the elevator opened, hoping to get to dinner before you lost your nerve.

“I’m going to set my bags down. I’ll meet you at dinner.”

He nodded in affirmation.

After putting the bags away, you headed to the kitchen. Walking in, you searched the table for Bob. You headed for your seat, only to stop when you saw Yelena happily eating mac and cheese…in your seat. Next to Bob. You glanced at John, who just shrugged at you.

Bob hadn’t even noticed your arrival for several moments as he was too busy whispering something to Yelena.

His back straightened suddenly and he turned to look towards the woman who had just walked in. Bob looked between you and Yelena, who was oblivious to the silent exchange happening. He frowned as you walked over and sat next to John, and smiled at him.

Bob looked away from you. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore.

After seeing him whisper softly to Yelena, neither were you.

—

The next two days were a lot of the same. You gave Bob space and he gave you space.

At meals, he’d sit by Yelena and you’d sit next to John.

At training, you’d train with anyone but each other.

At nights, you stayed turned away from him, pretending you couldn’t feel his eyes on you.

By the morning of the gala, the rest of the team was fed up with their behavior.

Bob was more irritable. His eyes flashing silver more times than not.

And you were avoiding everyone altogether. Except maybe John, be he also couldn’t find you half of the time.

The rest of the team gathered in Bucky’s room (against his will) to discuss what to do about the situation.

“Whatever is going on with those two needs to stop.” Bucky.

“For once, I agree with Bucky. Bob, or Void actually, told me that he was glad my wife left me and that I was going to die alone. He said I should just kill myself and be done with it.”

“Jeez. He told me that I should've stayed in the lab. And that I should just take my suit off and allow myself to disintegrate so that-”

“Well he told me-”

“Hey, guys— we don’t need to talk about what he said to us. He didn’t mean any of it. But we do need to figure out what’s wrong with them before Void gets out of control.”

“Okay, Bucky, how are we supposed to know what’s wrong with them? It’s not like either of them are super approachable right now.”

Yelena scratched her nose. John coughs. Everyone turns to them.

“What do you guys know?”

“Why are you avoiding eye contact, Lena? Lena, answer your father.”

“Well, Bob doesn’t really know what’s wrong. And I don’t either! But the night we went shopping for our dresses; me, Ava and,” she says your name, “When we got back, she went to put her bags away and she was happy. But when I asked her about the movie, she seemed…off. Like there was something wrong with her. But I don’t know what it could be. Especially since Bob was still with you when we started the movie.”

“Yeah, Bob was still with us that night. We were talking about…oh no.” John’s eyes widened.

“What?” Yelena asked.

“Oh no.” Bucky repeated John’s words.

“What?” Ava asked urgently.

Bucky smacked John on the back of his head, “This guy thought it would be a good idea to tease Bob about how much time his girlfriend spends following him around. Called her clingy.”

John rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “How was I supposed to know she’d hear? Plus, he didn’t even call her clingy. He just said they’re always together. Not that he minds. And why would that upset her?”

“She obviously didn’t hear the whole conversation.”

“Oh yeah, obviously.” He rolled his eyes.

“Guys, this is serious.” Yelena interrupts, “She doesn’t think Bob wants her around and Bob thinks she doesn’t want him around.”

“Well what are we supposed to do?” Ava questions.

“Whatever it is, we need to fix it before the gala.”

—

They did not fix it before the gala. In fact, they just made things much much worse.

While You were out, Yelena broke into yours and Bob’s shared room. She found Bob sitting in the bed with his hands cradling his head. Muttering to himself.

“She…gone. Doesn’t want…broken…stupid…leave…hate…miss her…doesn’t miss you…scared…she’s not…gone…left.”

”Bob.” His head snapped towards her, eyes red, cheeks stained with tears.

“You should go.”

“Oh Bob,” she sat next to him on the bed, “What is going on with you…” she trails off at Bob’s sharp look.

“There’s nothing going on.” Yelena’s gaze softened despite his sharp tone.

“There is definitely something going on. You’re like, well this.” She gestures to his tear stained face, “And she’s avoiding everyone. Well everyone except maybe Walker.”

Bob let out a dark chuckle. “Of course she’s with him.” He muttered, mostly to himself but Yelena heard it.

“That’s the problem? Walker? John Walker? Oh Bob, you know they’re just friends. That’s all they’ve ever been. And she’s dating you. She’s not the cheating type.”

“Well she’s hardly ever with me anymore. She can barely get through meals together in the same room, much less look at me. Which she doesn’t.” He laughed bitterly, “Even at night, she pretends to sleep, and I pretend not to notice,” His eyes flashed silver, “I bet she doesn’t pretend to sleep when she’s with Walker,” He glowered at the doorway, “I bet she doesn’t need to for what they’re doing.”

Yelena gasped, “Bob! You know she’d never do that.”

But Bob was gone. This time his eyes didn’t just flash. This time the dangerous glint stayed.

“Actually I don’t know. Maybe I would know if she wasn’t so busy throwing herself at any man available.”

Yelena gasped, “You don’t mean that.”

He looked back at her, expression cool, “I do, I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

He continued in a lowered voice, “Pretending to sleep while she is in my bed.” He stood up then, voice firm, “I should kill him. Then she’d come back. She wouldn’t have to waste any more of her time with him. She thinks I’m not good enough for her? He’s so much worse.”

Yelena shot up then, “You cannot kill Walker. She’d never forgive you.”

His eyes kept their silver glint, “I don’t need her to forgive me. I just need her to stay.”

—

Yelena left the room, shutting the door softly in hopes she wouldn’t agitate him further. She turned around quickly at a sharp gasp.

You were standing there, across from Yelena.

“You can’t go in there.”

“Right…” You trailed off, “And why can’t I go into my room?”

“Technically it’s Bob’s room.” Yelena flinched as she said the words, already wishing she could take them back.

You flinched too, taken aback by Yelena’s words. “Did— did he tell you that?”

“Um,” Yelena looked around desperately, hoping someone else from the team would show up to help her, “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly.” You repeated, “So he did then?” You glared at the doorway that Yelena was still standing with her back to. You are mad now. How dare he call he go behind your back and call you clingy. And now he was hanging out with Yelena alone in their his room? Oh, you were mad. You were furious.

“Where’d you put my dress?” You asked suddenly. Yelena’s body went rigid at your icy tone. You were going to make Bob regret ever pushing you away.

Yelena frowned at the bite in her friend’s tone.

“It’s in my room. I’ll help you get ready.” Yelena pulled you down the hall towards her room.

—

3 hours later, your hair was in a sleek low bun with tendrils framing her face.

Your makeup was done, complete with shimmery silver glitter coating your eyelids. You were wearing the dress you’d picked out with the girls.

Bob was going to lose his mind. If he cared enough to notice you. And maybe you were being dramatic. Maybe you were overreacting. But…it had been days and he hasn’t tried to talk to you. He hasn't reached out. You shook your head. Enough about Bob. You weren't going to cry and ruin the makeup you had just spent so long applying.

—

“Look over here, over here!”

“Bucky!”

“Congressman Barnes!”

“Ma’am! Ma’am!”

You forced a smile as you passed the paparazzi on the way to the entrance. Yelena and Bob were going to drive separately. You weren't told why, but had noticed hushed whispers exchanged by the rest of the team. Maybe none of them want you around. You frowned. Not everything is about you.

John guided you to the bar with his hand respectfully placed on your back. At least he seemed to want you around.

“You look miserable.” John snorted.

You glared at him, “I am.”

His expression softened at your words. He glanced at the entrance. Bob and Yelena had just walked in. He cursed under his breath. Yelena was supposed to keep Bob at the tower, Valentina’s orders that the whole team had to make an appearance notwithstanding. He shook his head, he needed to get away from you.

He snapped his head towards you, “I need to talk to,” he scanned the room for a familiar face, “Valentina.” He flinched, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

So maybe he doesn’t want you around.

You pretended to laugh it off, “When have you ever wanted to talk to Valentina? Whatever.” You pushed him away playfully, hoping he wouldn’t see how hurt you were.

He wanted to say something that would make you feel better, but he had to get away before Bob saw them together. Man, he really did not want to be killed by someone named Bob.

—

“Come on, Bob. Wait up.” Back at the tower, before the gala, Yelena was attempting to stall Bob. She had already resigned herself to the fact that she couldn't keep him from the gala if she tried.

“No.”

“Bob, wait!” He ignored her.

Yelena and the team had agreed that she’d stay back with Bob. He was already struggling to keep his other side at bay, even without fighting with his girlfriend.

“You don’t even have a tie!” He turned to her with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I was supposed to have a tie. She was going to get one that would match her dress. When she went shopping with you and Ava. In fact, she was fine before leaving with you.”

He paused momentarily. Then his hand shot out and wrapped around her neck.

She clawed at his hand frantically. He lifted her slowly off the ground.

His voice took on a darker tone, “What did you say to her?” He glared at her.

With his hand still around her neck she choked out a soft, “Nothing. We didn’t say anything at all.” She shut her eyes tightly. Everyone else had left already, they’d rushed you out the door. “She was fine until we got back.”

Her vision was getting spotty now. “She only seemed upset when I went to ask if she wanted to watch a movie with us. Really.” Her eyes pleaded with him. He glared back.

He tilted his head thoughtfully to the side and set her down.

“I’m going to the gala, I don’t care what you do. Just don’t get in my way.”

—

Miraculously, sometime between him choking her and them arriving at the gala, she had managed to get Bob back.

Yelena finished concealing the bruises on her neck as Bob tried to remember what had happened back at the tower.

She shushed him as he mumbled apologies repeatedly.

“Just don’t hurt anyone else, Bob. Don’t hurt her.”

At that, he seemed to shrink in on himself.

“I wouldn’t hurt her.” But all he could think of is that he already had.

—

The back of his neck burned as cameras flashed. He could only hope the pictures wouldn’t show his shame.

Yelena whispered soft reassurances as she pulled him past the paparazzi. The noise of their shouts drowned out as he kept his eyes on the door.

Only 3 more steps and then no more cameras.

Once they got inside, he felt like he could breathe again. He tried to relax his shoulders but they didn’t seem to want to stay down.

He frowned as he noticed Yelena stop next to him. He looked around for whatever could’ve made her freeze like that.

His body tensed as his eyes landed on you. The air was knocked from his chest as he looked at you. You were beautiful. He smiles and shook a step forward, only to stop when he noticed what you were doing. As you sat at the bar, you were laughing — with John Walker. His chest tightened.

He glowered at Walker as he walked away from the bar. Leaving you behind. His girlfriend.

Mine. The other side of him was screaming in his mind. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to go to you or tear Walker apart limb from limb.

“Bob.” His ears were ringing.

“Bob.” His hands were shaking.

“Bob!” His blood ran cold.

Ignoring Yelena’s hushed exclamations of his name, he walked towards his girlfriend.

His girlfriend who was watching him approach. Watching Yelena tug on his arm. Watching him glare at her. At her.

You wiped your palms on your dress, hoping to calm your racing heart.

He froze. Eyes darting to your right. You followed his gaze.

Standing next to you was a man. A man who happened to be very important, as he was the biggest investor in the New Avengers.

You weren't sure how Valentina had managed to convince him to invest in the team, but you were sure that Valentina would kill you if he stopped funding the team because of you. All you wanted was to smooth things over with Bob.

Your anger had started to dissipate when you’d seen him walk in. Cheeks flushed, chest heaving.

That was your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. You loved him. And you wanted to fix this…thing between you two.

But he’d have to wait. At least until you were done ensuring that your job was secure for the foreseeable future.

You shot out of your chair, hands rushing to shake his.

Rushing so much that you managed to knock the drink out of his hands and all over his suit.

A few strangled gasps rang out from around the room.

“I am so, so sorry, Mr….” You trailed off, remembering that you didn’t actually know his name. Your cheeks turned pink as he laughed.

“Kennedy, Ma’am. And no worries, this suit was only several thousand dollars.”

“Oh, only several thousand?” You laughed, hoping your awesome sense of humor and charm could keep him from withdrawing his investments.

“Yes, I will admit it’s one of my cheaper suits…” You laughed politely in turn, wishing this conversation would end soon.

—

He was seeing red. The hair on his arms stood straight up. He growled. He actually growled.

Yelena was fully pulling his arm now. Attempting to drag him towards the back of the building.

But he wasn’t budging. He stood there, watching you laugh at something this guy was saying. Did you even know him? And if you did, how many other men did you know here? Bob shook his head and looked at his feet. That was Void talking, not him. What’s the difference? He snapped his head back towards you.

You were looking back at him. The man is still talking beside you, but you were looking at him. He grinned sadistically. You flinched. He glared at you before turning abruptly and walking away..

—

He had to get out of there before the Void took over fully. Yelena ran after him.

“Bob! Bob! Wait up.”

He continued stomping towards the balcony, mentally thanking Bucky for making the team go over the floorplan and exit strategies.

“Bobby.” He turned sharply and lifted Walker by the collar of his suit jacket.

“Stay away from her. Don’t touch her, don’t talk to her, don’t go near her. Stay. Away.” He glowered at John through the fringe of his hair.

“You gotta calm down, man. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

“I’m going to hurt you if you don’t back off.”

Bob’s eyes glinted silver as he threw Walker to the ground and took off into the night sky.

—

Back at the tower, Bob had managed to calm down from his murderous rage. Slightly. Void was gone but Bob still wanted to strangle Walter Walker and that man at the bar.

Unfortunately, by the time Bob came to, the bedroom had been trashed. She is going to be so mad when she finds our room like this, he thought. He hurriedly started cleaning the room that had been torn apart.

He started by picking up the shards of glass from the lamp he’d thrown. Your lamp. Man, he’s really done it this time. He shook his head as he assessed the damage. It was bad. Really bad. The voice in his head got clearer as he gripped the dresser.

You always mess everything up. No wonder she wants nothing to do with you. She can’t even stomach looking at you.

He groaned as he cracked his neck. Your water cup had been knocked off the nightstand. He still left water for you every night, hoping you’d acknowledge him. Hoping he could still be useful.

As he reached between the nightstand and bed, he noticed that the bottom drawer had opened. Inside it lay a dark blue tie. He frowned as he slowly pulled it out of the drawer. So you had gotten him a tie? He thought you’d forgotten. Or chosen not to. There was only one thing he could think of now.

Why hadn’t you given it to him?

—

After seeing Bob stomp away, you hurriedly excused yourself from the conversation with Mr. Kelley? Campbell? Carter? You weren't sure, but it didn’t matter.

All you wanted was to see Bob. To apologize for being clingy? To beg him to give you another chance? You weren't sure exactly, but at this point you were willing to do anything if it meant he’d want you again.

You headed for the service entrance. Mentally thanking Bucky for making the team go over the floorplan and exit strategies.

Ducking past several servers carrying trays, you finally made it to the door. Steeling yourself against the cold air, you ran towards the tower.

It was only 4 blocks, what’s the worst that could happen?

———————————————————

Well, as you later found out, the worst that could happen was being kidnapped.

Bob was going to kill you. Or them. Or you and then them. Or vice versa. Probably vice versa.

“Hey I’m talking to you.” You tuned him out as he started spouting off obscenities. “I said, if you want to go home, you better hope your people are willing to pay more than my buyers are.”

“Okay, I’m…” You pretended to be nervous, mascara streaks running down your face. You made a mental note to buy waterproof mascara, although this did add to your theatrics, “I’m sure they will. They just need to know that they need to,” a hiccup to emphasize your distress, “need to know that they have to — have to pay.” You sniffled at the end. A pause.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, lady. I’ll get you a phone. One call. That’s it. If they don’t answer, you’re going to the highest bidder. If they do answer, well, you’re still going to the highest bidder, it just might be them.” The man laughed as he walked away. Bingo.

You looked around frantically, trying to gauge your surroundings. Looks like they brought you to an abandoned warehouse. How cliche. The wall to your right was covered in broken window panes, the bottom ones had tarps covering them.

There were several other men milling about; cleaning weapons, sorting cash, one was even drinking. Typical henchmen activities.

The man from before came back holding a dingy duct tape wrapped burner phone. They either weren’t very good at their job or just not paid well.

She looked him over; dirty jeans with a hole at the ankle, moth eaten shirt with oil stains, and a backwards baseball cap covered in grease marks. He wasn’t even trying to hide his identity. You rolled your eyes. Of course you’d be kidnapped by amateurs. The team was never going to let you live this down.

“One call.” He gave you a pointed look as he held the phone out to you.

You looked down at where your hands were tied to the chair you were sitting in.

“Um?” You prompted.

“Oh yeah, here.” He cut the rope that was strapping your dominant hand to the chair. You wished you could have laughed at him. Out loud. You definitely laughed in your head.

He handed you the phone. You thanked him in a ‘tearful’ voice.

Dialing Bob’s number, you prayed he’d answer.

One ring.

Two rings. Your breath hitched.

Three. You closed your eyes.

“Hi, it’s Bob. I can’t come to the phone right now but leave a message and I might get back to you.” You cringed. Your eyes starting to water. He didn’t answer. He always answers.

“Hi Honey,” You cried, not even having to pretend anymore. “I miss you. I’m so sorry about —” The kidnapper barked at you to get to the point. A few of the other men looked over at them. You hiccuped. “Um, I was kidnapped. He said that I’m going to be sold to the highest bidder.” You sniffled. “And if I’m lucky, it would be you.” Your eyes darted past the man, to the others, counting how many weapons there were. You paused, pretending to listen to the person on the other end of the line.

You turned to the man who had kidnapped you. “How is he supposed to pay you?”

“Tell him to bring cash, go to the train depot by the docks, and I’ll find him.” Bingo again. Now you knew where you were. You repeated the information back into the phone.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant and I love you, Honey!”

“Enough!” He took the phone from your hand, “Your one call is up missy. You better hope he —”

You jumped up, turned around and swung the chair into him, knocking him backwards.

“What —” Before he could even finish his sentence you had cut the rope off your other hand using the knife in your thigh holster. You tackled him to the ground. Mentally scoffing at how they didn’t even check for weapons.

A shot fired, hitting the ground next to you.

“Hey, watch it! She’s no good to us dead. Or mangled.” You jumped up.

As you swung her fist into the closest man’s jaw, you calculated the distance between yourself and the door.

Too far.

You turned back to the man and punched him in the neck. Wind knocked out of him, he fell over. Then you were able to kick him in the head and knock him out.

Another shot. And another. You dodged both of them.

You reached for the gun of the closest assailant, he jumped back. So you jumped with him. Tackling him to the ground, you grabbed his gun and shot him in the shoulder then the stomach. He cried out as his blood soaked your dress. Then you shot him in the head.

Another shot rang out, clipping your side. You gasped in pain, groaning as you rolled over, dragging the man's body with you for cover.

As you pulled his body towards an overturned table, you looked around the room. Only 2 men left. The man with the phone and the drunkard.

Well, you couldn’t get information from the drunk.

As soon as you were behind the table, you let the man drop from your grasp.

Shots continued to ring out, splintering the wood of the table you hid behind.

You checked the gun’s magazine clip. Only 2 bullets.

You checked the man’s body, no extra ammo.

Seriously, what kind of man doesn’t carry around extra ammo?

Well, at least you’re a good shot.

As soon as the shots stopped, you peeked over the table and aimed for the drinker’s head. His body fell to the ground, a slight ringing in the air as it echoed your shot.

The man with the phone looked at his co-kidnapper’s body. While he was distracted, you shot him in the hand, making him drop his gun. You leaped over the table and wrapped your legs around his neck, knocking him to the ground. You pulled out your knife

Knife to his throat, you threatened him.

“Shhhh, shhhh, don’t worry, I won’t hurt you too bad. ‘S long as you do what I say.” You grinned wolfishly as he whimpered.

“What’s your name?” He looked around desperately, only to find all of the others’ bodies lying still.

“Henry. Henry Miller.” His voice high.

“Okay Henry Miller, here’s what we’re gonna do…”

——————————————————

You were able to call the police using Henry Miller’s burner phone.

They made quick work of searching the warehouse. It was empty aside from a couple bags of cash and files, presumably saved to use as blackmail.

Henry managed to get a plea deal in exchange for everything he knew about the rest of the trafficking organization.

You were offered a ride back to the tower and quickly accepted, figuring you weren't going to try your luck walking alone in heels through the city. Again.

Bob was gonna kill you. If you didn’t kill him first for not answering.

—

Bob was a mess.

When the rest of the team had arrived at the tower, several hours after you and Bob had left, he’d asked where you were.

The team exchanged tense glances before telling him that you had left the gala alone. That they figured you’d be back by now.

Yelena said she had tried to call him, he held up his broken phone in response.

He croaked out your name before clearing his throat, “She left me a message earlier, but I couldn’t open it. What if she needs help?” His eyes started watering. He wiped the tears away roughly, not caring to hide them away from the rest of the team.

“Well, what’re we supposed to do? Scour the city? Send out a search party?” Walker questioned.

Bob glared at him, “If we have to. I need to find her.” Softer he spoke, “I need her.”

The team exchanged glances again.

Alexei spoke up this time, ever the optimist. “I'm sure she’s fine. They do not call her Nightstalker, Killer of Men for nothing.” Walker snorted.

“It’s true. She’s probably just getting food at that food truck you guys like.”

Bucky cut in, noticing Bob’s chest starting to heave, “We can access the message, let me just plug it into this transcriber.” Bob nearly chucked the phone at Bucky.

Walker snorted.

Bob just glared at him in response. John put his hands up, “Okay, well on that note, I’m going to bed. Wake me for breakfast when I can rub it in your faces that you’re all being dramatic and she’s fine.”

“I hope he never wakes up.”

“Bob!” several voices call out.

“Okay that's actually hilarious, Bobby.” John snorted, “And with that, I bid you adieu.”

“Bob, you can’t just say that.” Yelena chastised.

“We need to find her.”

“We need to be nice to our teammates.”

Bob rounded on Yelena, eyes flashing silver. “I need her to be okay. I need to find her. So suit up and look for her or get out of my way.”

“Okay, file is ready to transfer.” Bucky spoke.

Bob was there in a flash, hands grabbing onto the desktop. the rest of the team, minus John (and you) gathered around, close enough to hear but far enough to avoid Bob’s wrath.

Your voice started playing through the speaker.

“Hi Honey,” The metal of the desk creaked as Bob tightened his grip as your voice trembled.

“I miss you. I’m so sorry about —” A man could be heard yelling something unintelligible from the other end of the line.

You hiccuped, “Um, I was kidnapped. He said that I’m going to be sold to the highest bidder.”

You sniffled as Bob started to shake with rage.

“And if I’m lucky, it would be you.”

A pause. Bob’s heart pounded, threatening to burst from his chest.

Your voice was distant as you spoke this time, “How is he supposed to pay you?”

A man’s voice. The same one that was yelling. Closer this time, “Tell him to bring cash, go to the train depot by the docks, and I’ll find him.”

You repeated the man’s words. A sharp inhale, yours.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant and I love you, Honey!”

“Enough!” The man’s voices was even closer now. Too close. “Your one call is up missy. You better hope he —” The message stopped.

Bob was panting now. His blood ran cold. His eyes were solidly silver as he crushed the desk beneath his hands.

“Get your suits on. Find her.” Bob tossed the couch into the wall as he passed, headed for the balcony.

“Um guys?” Ava spoke softly.

The rest of the team had started suiting up as Bucky worked on pinging your location using the gps tracker you kept in your shoes.

“Guys.” No response.

“Guys!”

“WHAT?” Everyone turns to look at Ava.

“It’s her. She’s back. Downstairs.” Bob appears next to her, faster than humanly possible.

He rips the tablet from her hands, watching it intently. On it, he sees a police car pull up outside the front of the building. He watches as an officer walks around to the passenger side and opens the door. A woman steps out, dress soaked in blood, bandages wrapped around her forearms.

Bob freezes. The elevator dings. Everyone turns with bated breaths. The doors open with a soft woosh.

You step out of the elevator, adjusting the neckline of your dress. You freeze when you see the rest of the team.

Bob breathes out your name. You’re already looking at him.

“We’re just gonna…”

“I’m going to…”

“We can talk in the morning…”

Everyone started announcing their departure. Ava phased through the doorway. Yelena pulled Alexei out into the hall.

You and Bob continued to stare at each other.

Bob's eyes wandered over your figure. Taking in your mascara stained cheeks. Taking in every cut and bruise. Every bloody bandage. He winced.

You took your time looking at him. His suit jacket was off, shirt untucked with the top few buttons undone.

In one hand he held a broken phone and in the other he held the tie you’d gotten. Your gaze softened.

“You got me a tie.”

“You didn’t answer the phone.”

You both spoke at the same time.

Your eyes watered.

He blinked.

“You —” he cut himself off with a shuddering breath, “you got me a tie. Why didn’t you give it to me?”

“You didn’t answer the phone.”

“My phone —”

“Is broken. I know.” You closed your eyes and laughed breathlessly. “I’m just processing that.”

You snapped your eyes open to look at him. He stared back, eyes wide. He’d missed your laugh.

“If your phone wasn’t broken…would you have…would you have answered?”

“I’ll always answer.” You nod hesitantly at this. He clasped his hands together behind his back, hoping to ease the burn as they yearned to reach for you. To touch you. To reassure you. To make you understand how much he cared, how much he needed you.

He was looking at you reverently, eyes glassy as he spoke, “I’d do anything for you.” Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“Really?” You asked, looking up at him in wonder.

“Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

You smile at him. For the first time in about a week, you smile at him. He exhales softly.

He smiles back.

“You got me a tie. Why didn’t you give it to me?” He repeats his earlier question.

“I didn’t think you wanted it.” He flinches at this.

“Why would you think that?” He asks incredulously.

She looks away. Eyes wander over the common area. She blinks. Just now noticing the torn pillows and broken television.

“What happened in here?”

“Why would you think that?” He asks more firmly, ignoring her question.

You look up at him. Your shoulders sink and your cheeks turn a bright red. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He wishes he could do that. He wishes you’d let him.

“I heard you talking to John.” His hands clench at the mention of the other man, “You said I was…always around. He called me clingy. You agreed. Or…you just didn’t disagree.” You trailed off as his gaze got more intense. “I thought you wanted some space. So I gave it.” As you spoke, he stepped closer, reaching for you.

“Space is the last thing I want. And you’re the last person I’d want it from. Yeah, I told John we were always together, but I also told him I didn’t mind. That I want you around. That if anything, I’m the clingy one.” He took a shuddering inhale. “These past few days, without you, with you ignoring me — it’s been killing me.” He put his hand on your face, holding it to his chest.

“Please don’t leave me.” His voice cracked, “Don’t push me away again.”

You shook your head rapidly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Standing on your tiptoes you peppered kisses across his face. You pressed your lips to his. He grinned against your lips.

They could talk about what happened to you in the morning. For now, it was enough that you were here. That you were his.

Tightening his hold on you, he hoisted you up and carried you down the hall to your bedroom. The one you shared.

He set you down inside and softly shut the door.

“Oh wow.” You breathed out.

Looking around the room, Bob remembered the mess he’d made and then abandoned after finding the tie.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”

“‘Oh yeah’ he says, ‘Oh yeah.’” You giggled. He turned to glare at you playfully, but found he couldn’t even pretend to be upset with you. Not when you were smiling at him. Not when you loved him. So he settled for picking you up and tossing you on the bed. You laughed as he pounced on top of you.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Bob.”

He blinked at you.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

You pressed more kisses across his face.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he repeated his words, “Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

He felt like he could breathe again. His eyes watered as he smiled widely.

“I love you too.”

A/N: AHHHH THIS WAS MY FIRST EVER FIC (so please be kind), but I’d love any feedback!! Let me know what you guys thought of this!

-Xoxo, Amoebadue🤍

#bob reynolds x reader #marvel #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds #x reader #marvel x reader #thunderbolts #sentry #sentry x reader #void x reader

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