#R Coding Assignment Help

[fortunxa]

THESIS: DEVOTION . . . (nsfw)

I Think, Therefore I Beg

# cw. sub-top!reader, power bottom!Jinx, oral (Jinx!receiving), thigh riding/humping (r!receiving), loser!reader, free-use!reader, degradation, taunting/teasing, dumbification, worshipping, r!passes out, fwb(?), smut with plot, college au, “aftercare”/soft Jinx moments. mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ

# wc. 2.4k + short bonus

Jinx has a type. not the loud ones, not the cool ones. no—she has a soft spot for the shy, brainy girls. the ones who can’t quite meet her eyes when she smirks at them, who flinch when her knee brushes theirs under the table, then apologize like it wasn’t the best part of their day. those are her favorites.

they’re easy to spot—blushing behind thick glasses, nervously fiddling with pens or sleeves, trying so hard not to look when she stretches just a little too far or speaks just a little too slowly, hearts already halfway in her hands before she even smiles.

she likes the way they react to her. one offhand comment laced with innuendo, and they short-circuit—eyes wide, throat tight, cheeks burning. it’s addictive. she likes watching them come undone and likes the way they try so hard to keep it together when she leans across the table, fingers brushing theirs. her voice is low and syrupy sweet as she asks them to “just explain that one little part again.”

she doesn’t need the help, of course. she’s smarter than most people on campus, probably smarter than some of the teachers, but that’s not the point. the point is watching those sweet girls fumble over their words, cheeks flushed, thighs pressed tight under the desk while she twirls a strand of their hair and hums like she’s thinking of something much more interesting than equations.

it fascinates her, watching how far they go to keep her attention, how easily they fold when she says please in that low, honeyed tone that turns yes into a reflex. she never has to lift a finger—unless it’s to trace lazy little circles on a thigh while they work, just to see how long they can keep their hands steady. sometimes, she murmurs praises into their neck, low and slow, and watches them squirm like she’s lighting them up from the inside out.

and the best part? those girls are givers, desperate to please. Jinx will bat her lashes, pout a little, and suddenly her assignments are done, her projects are perfect, and her inbox is full of carefully written notes with highlighted sections and color-coded tabs. all because they want to impress her. all because they want her to stay. chasing her approval like it’s the only grade that matters.

she likes what they can do for her—in every sense. those shy little things, trying so hard to be good, will do anything to keep her attention. and Jinx? she makes damn sure they never know if she actually means the things she says, or if she’s just playing with her food.

because when she crooks a finger or tilts her head with that wicked little smile, her nerdy girl of the month will come running—books in hand, heart pounding, already apologizing for being two minutes late. it’s adorable, really. the way she scrambles to impress, how she lights up when she so much as acknowledges her.

Jinx loves making smart girls stupid, and this time? you’re her victim.

it’s routine at this point—one that you follow like a well-oiled machine. she’ll stretch out across her bed, headphones in, humming to some glitchy beat while you fumble with her laptop, trying to perfect her assignment or fix her code. she’ll barely glance at the screen, just stroke your hair and murmur lazy praise when you get her formatting right.

and that praise? it’s currency. one “good girl”, and you’re glowing. one moan, soft and breathy, and you’re working harder, always hoping to be rewarded.

and she does reward you—when she feels like it. sometimes, she lets you put your mouth on her while she scrolls on her phone, legs thrown over your shoulders, only glancing down when you make a particularly pretty noise. other times, she makes you wait, just to watch your frustration bloom.

Jinx doesn’t care if you break. in fact, she wants you to. she wants you to shake and sweat and whimper from the effort of pleasing her. she expects nothing short of full devotion—and she always gets it. she only has to say, “be useful,” and you will do anything—begging, shaking, soaked through your cute little panties—just to hear her moan.

that was her favorite thing. how girls that smart can still fall apart for her. how all those degrees and good grades don’t mean shit when she has her legs spread and a hand in your hair, lazily pulling as she reads through the essay you wrote for her like it's a bedtime story.

and you love it. you love being used, love the challenge of keeping her satisfied. she edges you for hours while you beg into her thighs, and then she just grins, purring, “c’mon, baby. smart as you are, you still haven’t figured out how to make me come?”

you love every second of her ignoring you in public but curling into your lap in private. you love being ordered to type while she straddles your thigh, grinding slow and lazy while you try to keep your hands off. try to stay focused. try to be good.

so when your phone lights up with a succession of messages, you don’t hesitate to snatch it up.

jinx [9:47 PM]

hey brainiac

you’ve been so good lately, thought you deserved a treat

(it’s me. i’m the treat)

you’ve got like 10 mins before i start faking it with a pillow

that’s it. not even an emoji to soften the blow.

and it still hits you like a fucking spell.

your stomach drops, heat pooling between your legs so fast it makes you dizzy. your hand is shaking as you grab your keys, leaving your laptop open, the essay you’ve been outlining still blinking at the top of a google doc titled ‘DRAFT 3 - FINAL (for real this time).’

it’s ridiculous how fast your body responds to Jinx’s voice—even when it comes through a screen. your mouth is dry, your thighs already slick. every erratic step closer to her dorm feels like your brain is shutting down and your cunt is taking over, like your body knows exactly what it’s going there for.

you barely knock. just the softest brush of knuckles—more habit than necessity—before you push the door open with trembling fingers. and there’s Jinx, lit by nothing but her purple LED lights, sprawled out across the bed like temptation itself, waiting in a hoodie and thigh-high socks. she’s grinning like a spoiled dream, legs parted to display the lack of underwear, eyes half-lidded with the kind of smug boredom only someone worshipped too often can wear.

“there she is. my favorite little honor roll slut,” she greets, voice low and ruined like she’d been waiting with fingers between her folds for longer than she’d admit. “you look like you ran.”

you stand there in the doorway, chest rising too fast, sleeves bunched in your fists like you’re trying to hold yourself together.

you’re not doing a very good job.

Jinx tilts her head slightly, that slow, lazy grin tugging wider at her lips. “well?” she drawls, voice a husky thing wrapped in smoke and heat. “you gonna keep panting in the doorway, or are you gonna get on your knees and make the walk worth it?”

that does it.

you stumble forward like you’ve been yanked by a leash, the door clicking shut behind you. each step is half-mindless, guided more by want than will. she watches you crawl across the bed, eyes wide behind your glasses, lips already parted, trembling with the kind of reverence most people save for altars. because that’s what she is to you—something holy. something sharp and shining and above you.

Jinx doesn’t just fuck. she gets worshipped.

and now, there you are—her favorite little overachiever. so good. so smart. so utterly fucking wrecked already.

no words. no breath. just mouth on cunt—moaning as soon as your tongue meets slick, licking like you’ll die if you don’t get every drop. you lick up, then down, then in, sucking her clit into your mouth like you’re trying to memorize the shape of it, earning a groan as she throws her head back.

“god, you’re such a fucking sucker for this pussy,” she gasps. “i could probably get you to drop out if i let you live down there.”

she spreads her legs further and leans back like a goddess, licking the inside of her cheek while you work. your mouth is open, your jaw is shaking, and your cheeks are wet from something you can’t even name anymore by the time she comes for the third time. sweat, slick, tears, spit—it doesn’t matter.

“good girl. now do it again,” she simply whispers after coming back down from another high. “and maybe i’ll let you rub that filthy little cunt on my thigh.”

that’s all the motivation you need. glasses fogged and askew, fingers curled into her thighs like you need something to ground you while your mouth moves with the kind of desperation that doesn’t come from hunger—it comes from need, from obsession.

because that’s what you are. Jinx’s obsessed, overstimulated little genius, so smart on paper and so fucking dumb for her. the kind of girl who begs to be useful, who gets off on obedience, who’s already grinding her soaked little cunt against the bedsheets while sucking Jinx’s clit like her life depends on it.

she lets you struggle. lets you sob into her skin and tongue-fuck her like you’re starving. you’ve been there a while—maybe too long—trying so hard to make her come, again and again, needing to hear that low, lazy purr of approval. she doesn’t rush you. she doesn’t help you, either.

she just watches, calm and pretty, hips shifting just enough to guide the rhythm when you start losing it, jaw locking. Jinx knows just how long to keep you down there—long enough for your thighs to ache, long enough for your brain to fog over, long enough to make you forget yourself.

you lick her like you mean it—flat, deliberate strokes of your tongue from base to clit, slow enough to make her hips twitch, hard enough to make her throb.

and when she finally shatters again—soft and slow, spine arching, breath caught on a quiet gasp—you whimper like you’ve been blessed, collapsing after, face buried in her thigh, body twitching from the effort. she doesn’t say thank you. she just glances at you like you’re something cute and wipes a thumb across your soaked lips.

and you get lucky tonight—you worked for it, after all.

“c’mere,” she says softly, still coming down from it as she pats her thigh. “you’ve been so good. go ahead. rub that soaked little pussy on me.”

and you obey fast, clumsy, nearly falling off the bed in the rush to kick your panties off, knees red and sore as you straddle her, already apologizing under your breath for how wet you are before you even start moving. your hands grip Jinx’s shoulders for balance as you drag your swollen clit on muscle and skin and nothing else, grinding down in slow, stuttering rolls, making obscene little wet sounds.

and you must’ve done something really right, because she doesn’t push you off after you come for the first time that night. she doesn’t push you off after the second or third, either.

“uh—fuck—please—” you’ve been at it for what feels like hours, your rhythm messy and sloppy now, like you’re chasing something you can barely hold onto. you’re sweating, sobbing, leaving claw marks as you rut down, again and again, slick smearing across skin like you’re trying to fuse with her. all that intelligence and you’re just humping her thigh like a bitch in heat.

you’re dumb for it now. absolutely, irreparably stupid—babbling nonsense, half-words, desperate little gasps. you used to correct people’s grammar, now you can’t even form a sentence unless it starts with please and ends with Jinx, body jerking every few seconds like it can’t decide whether it wants more or less. it stopped being about pleasure a long time ago. you don’t even feel your cunt anymore—just heat, pressure, friction.

“you’re so fucking gone. riding me like the whole semester depends on it,” she taunts, voice low and full of delight. “what happened to all those big words, baby? what happened to my honors student?” a sound tears out of you—something between a sob and a moan—but you don’t answer.

your brain is fucked.

“you don’t know how to stop, do you?” she whispers. “so smart, and now you’re just… stuck. dumb little thing fucked herself into a loop.”

no answer.

and then—between one gasp and the next, between the frantic roll of your hips and the whimper that follows—it slips out:

“i love you—fuck—Jinx, i—”

soft. shattered. mindless.

Jinx hears it, but doesn’t say a thing. doesn’t stop you, doesn’t react. just sits back against the headboard, half-lidded, one hand on your waist as you keep fucking yourself into oblivion.

it’s not the first time someone says it, but this? this is different, because you don’t even know you said it. and somehow, that makes it worse. she’s not thinking about it, not really. just replaying the sound in her head—those three words, cracked and filthy, pulled from a mouth too wrecked to lie.

“c’mon, baby,” she finally whispers. “be my little dropout and come for me.”

your body jerks once, violently—hips slamming forward, clit catching just right—and you shatter, a silent scream falling from your mouth as your pussy pulses in waves you can’t ride anymore.

and then you collapse, right there in Jinx’s lap. she catches you before you can slump backward, arms looping around you just as your head drops to her shoulder, breath stuttering. she pulls back just enough to see your face—peaceful, lips parted, out cold.

out. cold.

she blinks—once, twice—then laughs, low and slow, rubbing a hand down your back as your soaked cunt still flutters against her thigh.

“holy shit,” she whispers breathlessly, grinning into your damp hair. “passed the fuck out on my thigh,” she murmurs, voice soft with something dangerously close to fondness. “guess we found your limit, huh?”

she doesn’t move for a while, simply watching you. blank-faced at first, expression unreadable. then, slowly and carefully, she reaches for the edge of the blanket and pulls it over your bare shoulders. not tucked in, not coddled. just… covered, like a quiet little claim.

she sits back against the wall, hoodie half-zipped, her thigh still damp, her breath finally starting to level out. normally, this is the part where she gets bored, where the affection fades, the attention drifts, and she starts thinking about who she’ll get her mouth on next month.

but then she looks at you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face with a surprisingly soft touch. “might keep you around.” a pause. “might not even fuck it up.”

── .✦ BONUS (for the lover girls) ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

you’re curled up in Jinx’s bed, both of you warm and clean and full of leftover vending machine snacks. you’re drowning in her hoodie, hood up, sleeves over your hands, a granola bar only halfway eaten resting on your chest like you’ve been too exhausted to finish chewing while your thighs are still twitching every now and then like your body hadn’t figured out how to stop remembering the orgasms.

she reaches for a bag of chips, opening it with her teeth. “okay,” she says, shoving one in her mouth, “serious question.”

you groan, half-asleep. “if it’s about sex, i’m gonna cry.”

she grins around a crunch. “it’s always about sex.” she grabs her phone from the nightstand, opens notes, and starts typing. “you’re lucky,” she says. “you’ve been selected for an exclusive, post-orgasm academic assessment.”

“no,” you mumble, immediately dragging the covers over your face.

“too late. i’m the professor now. pop quiz, bitch.” Jinx peels them right back, uncovering you. “i call it—‘Am I Allowed to Fuck You Again Yet?’”

you can’t help but groan once more. she just pulls you a little closer, then clears her throat dramatically. “question one: can you walk?”

“no.”

“honest. good. bonus point.” she keeps typing. “question two: is your pussy still thinking about me?”

you cover your face with both hands. “Jinx—”

“is that a yes?”

a whimper. “unfortunately.”

she kisses your forehead as a reward. another chip, another line. “question three: are you emotionally prepared to be fucked into oblivion again right now if i promise to kiss your thighs after?”

“Jinx.”

“that’s not a no.”

“that’s a crime.”

“still not a no,” she whispers, grinning. “god, you’re acing this.”

you bury your face in her shoulder, half-laughing, half-mortified.

“question four,” Jinx says softly, suddenly quieter. “do you feel safe?”

the answer comes fast. certain. “yes.”

she looks at you for a long second. no teasing. just… that look. then she drops her phone, pulling you tighter, and whispers into your hair: “cool. then i’ll wait.”

she reaches back and grabs a half-empty water bottle off the nightstand, passing it to you gently. “bonus question: are you emotionally prepared to feed me a granola bar while i grind on your thigh for ten minutes like a perv?”

a deep, slow sigh. “…i will if you stop asking questions.”

Jinx’s eyes light up. “consent confirmed.”

the inspo (durrrrr):

[natsaffection]

Code Red. pt 4 | N.R

older!Surgeon!Natasha × Younger!Intern!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (N=35, R=24) hospital atmosphere, shooting mention, gun mention, blood, trauma, therapy, alcohol

word count: 12,3k

A/n: Tumblr has a freaking line limit, and I was stressing over it! So please, ignore the weird spacing. I had to mash a lot of things together just so Tumblr would let me upload it 💔

I even had to delete the entire ending and will have to add it in the next part, BECAUSE I RAN OUT OF SPACE

It had been thirty-one days. The hospital had changed since the shooting. There were more protocols. More drills. More doors that required keycards to open. But there were more people, too. New nurses, new faces from other cities, other programs. They’d flooded in like reinforcements when the ICU bled staff, some transferred, some promoted, some…never came back.

You were healed. The dressing had come off your shoulder weeks ago. The bruises were long faded. You walked clipboard under one arm, talking to nurses and humming under your breath when you thought no one was listening. Natasha always listened. She never stopped. “You’re staring again.” Maria murmured beside her at the nurses’ station, sipping coffee like it was a sedative.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe I’m making sure my patient’s follow-up is behaving.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Your ‘patient’ was cleared for full duty two weeks ago.”

Today, the sun slanted in through the long windows of the atrium. Late afternoon. The lull before the night shift. You were leaning against a column, chart in hand, when you saw Natasha approaching and smiled. “You steal my post-op notes again?”

Natasha’s voice floated, low and teasing, and you didn’t need to turn to know that signature smirk was already in place. You grinned as you looked up from the nurses’ desk. “Maybe I’m just trying to be more like you.”

“Dangerous goal.” Natasha said, resting a hand on the edge of the counter. “You might end up brooding and terrifying.”

You cocked a brow. “And somehow still everyone’s favorite?”

Natasha shrugged. “Can’t help it if I’m charming.”

You laughed, a real one. Loud, open. It earned a glance from a passing nurse, who smiled like they all did now when they saw the two of you in the same room. Like they knew. And why wouldn’t they?

Natasha brought you coffee every morning now, black with a sugar packet she’d roll between her fingers first, just like you liked. She reviewed your charts even when she wasn’t assigned to your service. Left little red pen corrections in the margins with sarcastic smiley faces.

She waited for you after night shifts, even when she wasn’t on-call. Once, she dozed off in the hallway chair with her hoodie pulled over her eyes, and you had smiled like your whole chest couldn’t hold it. Natasha leaned a little closer now, eyes flicking to the notes on your tablet. “You missed a decimal here.”

You sighed. “You’re gonna bring that up forever, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”

You looked up. “You’re a menace.”

Natasha’s lips twitched. “Only to interns I like.”

Something soft passed between you, just a glance, but enough to hold the weight of what you didn’t say. “Hey, Natasha!”

Addison’s voice cut clean through the hum of the nurses’ station. You straightened instinctively, but Natasha didn’t flinch. Addison walked toward you in her signature heels and dark red scrubs, hair tied up in a neat twist. She had that glow about her, the kind that always made people move just a little to the side when she entered a room.

“Montgomery.” she greeted. “Looking terrifyingly awake for a double shift.”

Addison smirked. “Someone’s gotta make up for your brooding.”

Natasha chuckled. “Touché.”

Addison turned to you, and the moment shifted, just a fraction. Your whole posture softened. Your smile went crooked in that familiar, loving way. And when Addison leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, it wasn’t careful. It wasn’t hesitant.

It was yours. Natasha looked away politely, just for a second. But her smile didn’t drop. She held it like armor. Addison lingered with her forehead against yours for a heartbeat. “Lunch?”

“I get off in thirty.” you replied, and your voice..God, your voice was happy.

Addison nodded, then turned back to Natasha. “You good for the cardio consult at four?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Don’t scare the residents too much.”

“No promises.”

Addison laughed, then took your hand and walked off, still talking softly. And Natasha stood perfectly still. Her coffee was still warm in her hand. The smile still played at her lips. She didn’t look after you. Not right away. But when she did, it was just in time to see you glance back over your shoulder, just once. Just a flicker. Your eyes met.

And you smiled. Not the way you smiled at Addison, but soft. And Natasha smiled back. She stood alone at the nurse’s station, a full chart in front of her and absolutely no memory of what she’d just been reading. She exhaled slowly. Then circled something in red ink. A note you wouldn’t read later.

29 days before:

Natasha sits on the edge of a cold plastic chair, one in a loose circle of doctors gathered in a pale conference room. Her hands rest motionless on her knees, fingers interlocked so tightly her knuckles have turned white. People are talking around her, low murmurs of fear, anger, relief, yet each word drifts in and out of her consciousness as if muffled by cotton.

She is aware of the others in fragments: Dr. Chen wringing his hands as he recounts how he froze when the shots rang out; Nurse Bello blinking back tears describing the blood on her shoes. A therapist or counselor is guiding the discussion, voice gentle and measured, asking them to share whatever they can. Natasha hears the question float by “How are you processing this?” but it might as well be directed at someone else. She doesn’t lift her eyes. She doesn’t speak.

All she can see is the memory replaying in an endless loop behind her eyes. The harsh white lights of the OR reflecting on the pooled blood across your abdomen. Her own trembling hands pressed against your sternum, performing compressions in a desperate rhythm. She remembers counting under her breath, one, two, three trying to coax a heartbeat back. The monitor’s alarm screamed a flatline tone, a single, high-pitched note that drowned out rational thought.

Maria’s voice cutting through the chaos: “He will kill everyone in this room!” At the time Natasha had whipped her head around in disbelief. Then she saw it, him, standing just beyond the swinging OR doors, arm outstretched, the black eye of a handgun trained on them. In the group therapy room, Natasha’s jaw tightens imperceptibly. The others’ voices fade completely as the memories flood her. She feels again the paralytic fear that turned her limbs to stone. In the OR, a lifetime ago and only days ago, she had locked eyes with the gunman. His face was a blur behind her tears, but she remembers the cold steadiness of the barrel aimed her way.

Her heart had thundered in her ears. Maria’s voice had come again, strained and barely calm, “Let her go.” Natasha’s arms had gone rigid, her blood-slick hands hovering uselessly above your open chest. She could still feel the warmth of your skin beneath her palms, then the awful absence of it as she lifted her hands away. For a moment in time, Natasha truly believed it was the end. She was certain she was watching you die. The flatline droned on, and your face was so still, too still. The world narrowed to that single point: the space between one heartbeat and the next, a heartbeat that wasn’t coming. And Natasha had let go. At gunpoint, yes, but she let go.

Someone in the therapy circle clears their throat. The sudden sound yanks Natasha back to the present with a jolt. Her lungs burn; she realizes she’s been holding her breath. Across the circle, all eyes are on her now, the facilitator must have asked her something. Natasha quickly drops her gaze to the scuffed linoleum floor. When the session finally ends, chairs scraping as people stand, Natasha slips out without a word. No one stops her. The hallway air feels cooler on her clammy skin. She draws in a long breath, trying to steady the unsteady thumping of her heart. She survived the crisis. You survived. That’s what everyone keeps saying. Yet as Natasha stands alone in the corridor, all she can feel is the hollow ache left by the moment she thought she lost the woman she…

Without conscious thought, Natasha finds her feet carrying her to the ICU. She pauses just outside your room, fingers hovering at the observation window. The blinds are partially drawn, leaving a gap where she can see inside. You lie propped up in the adjustable bed, pale against the white sheets and connected to a forest of IV lines and monitors. The steady beep of the heart monitor is softer here than it was in the OR, but Natasha zeroes in on it immediately, each measured beep a reminder that you are alive. It’s both a comfort and a knife twist of guilt.

She watches from behind the glass, afraid to open the door. Her own reflection faintly overlays the image of you in the bed: disheveled red hair, haunted green eyes rimmed with exhaustion. She barely recognizes herself. Natasha stands there for a long minute, just watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest. The last time she saw you so still, there had been blood everywhere and a flatline threatening to never end. Seeing you breathing now should ease Natasha’s heart, but instead her chest only tightens.

You stir slightly, turning your head. Natasha steps back reflexively, out of view, her pulse jumping. Coward. She presses her back to the corridor wall beside the door, breathing shallowly. Part of her wants to flee before you notice her; she’s not ready to face those eyes, to field the questions you surely have. But another part of her aches just to be near, to reassure herself you are truly okay. That part wins out, albeit shakily.

Natasha slips quietly into the room. The faint scent of antiseptic and the low hum of the oxygen machine greet her. At the sound of the door, your eyes flutter open. They focus slowly on Natasha, and despite everything, one corner of your mouth lifts weakly. “Hey..” comes the whisper, raspy but warm.

“Hey.” Natasha echoes softly. Her voice is caught somewhere in her throat; she clears it and manages a small smile. She steps closer to the bed, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “You’re awake.”

Your eyes search her face. “Wouldn’t miss a chance to see you playing hooky from rounds..” you joke faintly. There’s a spark of humor in you despite the obvious pain it causes to speak. Ever the optimist.

Natasha’s answering chuckle is thin, but it passes for normal. “I’m just checking on a patient.” she replies, trying for lightness. She reaches for the clipboard at the end of the bed, scanning the vitals as a pretext to avoid meeting your gaze directly. Heart rate stable, blood pressure improving. All numbers that mean you are out of immediate danger. Natasha lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“They said I was pretty out of it after…” you begin, voice halting. “I don’t remember much. Just…pain, and then waking up here.” Your brow furrows as if trying to recall. “What happened? Is everyone-”

“Y/n.” Natasha gently cuts you off. Her heart gives a panicked flutter at the question. She forces a reassuring expression. “It’s okay. Everyone’s okay now.” You’re okay now. She carefully places the clipboard back. “You should rest. Don’t try to talk about it yet.”

You look unconvinced. Your hand twitches on the blanket, like you might reach out. “I heard I… I almost didn’t make it..” you murmur. Vulnerability shades your tone, fear, gratitude, confusion all at once. “They told me you saved my life.”

Natasha’s stomach twists. Heat prickles behind her eyes and she quickly turns her head under the guise of adjusting your IV drip. “The team saved your life.” she corrects softly, almost brusquely. Her own reflection in the dark monitor screen shows the flicker of anguish she’s trying to hide. “I just did my job.”

“But-”

“How’s your pain?” Natasha interrupts, grasping for any safer topic. “Do you need more meds?” It’s cowardly, changing the subject, but she can’t handle your gratitude. Not when she feels like the furthest thing from a hero.

You pause, realizing Natasha’s deflection. A shadow of hurt or worry crosses your expression, but you relent. “I’m okay. Sore… but I’m okay.”

An awkward silence stretches. Natasha forces herself to look at you directly now. The late afternoon light slants through the window, catching the gentle features of your face. You look tired, yes, and fragile in a way Natasha has never seen. But alive. Alive, because Natasha didn’t completely fail. The urge to reach out, to touch your cheek or squeeze your hand, wells up, but Natasha quashes it. She has no right, not with the secret she carries.

“That’s good..” Natasha says, and her voice comes out quieter than she intended. She clears her throat again. “You should get some sleep. I’ll, um, let you rest.” Your eyes flicker with disappointment that Natasha is already leaving, but you nod softly. “You’ll come by later?”

Today:

The cafeteria buzzed with its usual mid-shift chaos, forks clinking, pages fluttering, nurses weaving between tables with half-eaten salads and even less patience. Natasha sat across from Maria at a window-side table, untouched coffee in front of her, one elbow propped lazily on the tabletop as if she were actually listening.

She wasn’t. Her eyes were fixed across the room.

There, near the vending machines, you were laughing. Really laughing, head thrown back, hand on Addison’s shoulder, your scrubs wrinkled in the way that said you’d just come from surgery and hadn’t stopped smiling since. Addison leaned in to whisper something in your ear, and your face lit up like a goddamn sunrise.

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She didn’t even notice she was staring until Maria said her name for the second time. “Nat.”

No response. “Natasha.”

She blinked. “Hm?”

Maria arched a brow, her coffee halfway to her lips. “You heard absolutely none of that, did you?”

Natasha tried to play it off. She leaned back in her chair, flicked her eyes toward Maria. “Sorry. Thinking about the transplant case.”

Maria glanced at the untouched sandwich in front of her, then back at Natasha’s too-still face.

“Bullshit.”

Natasha’s lips curled in a half-hearted smirk. “What, you don’t think I’m committed to the art of liver transfers?”

Maria didn’t smile. She didn’t need to. Her eyes flicked once, subtle, sharp, toward the vending machines. Toward you and Addison. The way Addison’s hand brushed the small of your back. The way you leaned into it without thinking. Then Maria turned back, setting her cup down.

“This is exactly what I warned you about.”

Natasha’s smile faltered, just slightly. “Warned me about what?”

Maria didn’t blink. “Y/n slipping away. And you’re just sitting here watching it happen.”

Natasha forced a laugh, low, bitter. “Y/ns not mine to lose.”

“You were once.” Maria said calmly. “Or you could’ve been.”

Natasha shook her head, more to herself than anyone else. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It was exactly like that.” Maria said, voice still low but firm. “You just didn’t want to admit it. Not when she was lying in a hospital bed, not when she was asking for you every day, not when she looked at you like you were the only thing tethering her to this world.”

“That’s not fair-”

“What’s not fair,” Maria cut in, “is that she kept waiting. For you to do something. And instead, Addison walked in, cracked one joke, and you handed her the space you wouldn’t claim.”

Natasha’s throat worked. She looked down at her cup like maybe it held answers. “She’s happy.” she said after a long beat. “That’s what matters.”

Maria’s voice softened, but not in the way that gave comfort. “Don’t feed me that noble martyr crap.”

Natasha didn’t respond. Not directly. Her gaze drifted again, pulled by instinct, back to you, who were now holding Addison’s hand under the table. Smiling at her like she hung the stars. That smile used to be Natasha’s. Not really. Not officially. But close enough to believe it could’ve been.

“She’s not just happy..” Maria said quietly. “She’s in love. And you…you’re sitting here nursing a coffee you didn’t drink and pretending like it doesn’t feel like a knife every time she kisses someone who isn’t you.”

Natasha laughed once, too sharp. “Maybe I’m just growing.”

“Maybe you’re just scared.”

Natasha looked at her, finally. The smile was gone now. Her eyes weren’t angry, they were tired. “She deserves better than someone who didn’t know how to show up.”

Maria didn’t argue. She just leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, watching her friend crumble in real time.

“You’re still in love with her.” The words hung there. Natasha looked back to the vending machine. Addison kissed your temple. You leaned into her.

And Natasha, very quietly, smiled. “Yeah..” she said.

After that, Natasha walked fast, eyes locked on the tablet in her hand. Lab reports, liver enzymes, graft viability. The transplant consult was already behind schedule, and her attending hadn’t signed off on the pre-op labs yet. She moved like she always did when she had a case on her mind, quick, surgical, with every step meant for something. She turned the corner too sharply. And collided with someone. The tablet jolted, almost slipping from her fingers. She caught it by reflex.

“Shit, sorry-” the voice was familiar before she even looked up. Dr. Derek Shepherd. He steadied himself with one hand against the wall and let out an awkward half-laugh. “Didn’t mean to bodycheck you in your own hospital.”

Natasha blinked, still clutching the tablet. “I’ve had worse.” she muttered, brushing her shoulder. Her voice was calm. Almost too calm. Derek shifted on his feet. “Right. Uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to..well, I know I already said it, but…I’m sorry. For what happened. For everything.”

She looked at him, expression unreadable. He went on anyway. “I didn’t know he’d come for me. I didn’t expect-”

“I know.” Natasha interrupted, gently. Not unkind, but final. “You don’t have to explain again.”

Derek nodded. “Still. I wasn’t sure if you…still blamed me.”

Natasha hesitated, then shook her head. “No. I blamed the wrong things for a while, but…not anymore.” Her voice was softer now, and maybe that’s what made it more painful. She wasn’t angry..just tired.

A beat passed. Something shifted in Derek’s face. “I’m glad you’re back.” he said honestly. “The OR feels different with you in it again.”

Natasha smiled, a faint curve of her lips. Not the sharp kind. Not sarcastic. Just quiet.

“Thanks.” she said. Derek stepped aside to let her pass. “It’s good…that things are finally normal again.”

Natasha looked at him for a long moment. Something flickered in her expression, something hollow. She nodded once. “Yeah..” she said. “Normal.”

27 days before:

Natasha stepped out of your room with her jaw clenched and her fists shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie. The blanket you’d been curled under still clung to the ghost of your warmth. You hadn’t woken when she left. You were still sleeping, weak but alive.

She hated how much that still felt like a countdown. She made it halfway down the hallway before the tightness in her throat demanded air. She pushed into the small family break room, empty at this hour, and dropped into a chair at the table near the window. No monitors here. No beeping reminders. Just her and the thick, choking silence.

She sat there breathing too fast, knuckles pressed into her thighs. She could still see it. The scalpel glinting under trauma lights. Blood pooling like rainwater beneath the table.Your chest open. Your body limp. Your lips blue.

“She’s flatlined.”

“Natasha, let go.”

“There’s no rhythm.”

“LET. HER. GO.”

And Maria’s hand on the ECU cable. Unclamping it. Letting the monitor scream flat. She’d waited until she was alone for that. But now? Now the door opened. And the devil walked in wearing a white coat.

“Hey..” Derek said softly, stepping into the room. “I just checked up on her. She’s holding steady, it’s a good sign.”

Still, she said nothing. “She’s strong.” he added, voice gentler. “Stronger than any of us gave her credit for.”

Natasha’s jaw ticked. “She was the only staff member who got hit and survived..” Derek continued. “The others-”

“Don’t.” Natasha said, sharp. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Derek blinked, taken aback. “I-”

“She almost died.” she said, her voice colder now. “Because of you.”

He froze. “She got shot. Shot! She had a bullet rip through her chest because you had ghosts you didn’t clean up.” Her voice cracked around the edge. “And you weren’t the one who paid for it.”

“Natasha-”

“She coded!” she snapped. “She coded, and they tried to make me let her go. While she still had warmth in her chest. While her blood was still flowing. Maria unclamped the cable so the machine would lie for her!”

Derek’s breath caught. “And you-” her voice dropped, dangerous now, “..you’re the reason he came.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do, Natasha.”

“She went through hell!” she hissed. “Woke up with a tube jammed between her ribs, no anesthetic, no sedatives. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move and you want to stand here and say she’s strong?”

“I didn’t say-”

“You didn’t have to.” she snapped. “You’re trying to make this easier for you. Trying to feel like this wasn’t your fault. But she almost died because someone wanted you dead. And I’m the one who had to hold her together.”

Derek didn’t speak. “You weren’t there when she whispered she didn’t want to die. When she cried into my chest because the pain was too much. You weren’t there when she told me to stop doing the calm voice, because she knew what it meant.”

Her hands trembled. “I had to choose between letting her die with dignity and slicing her open with a fucking scalpel while she screamed into her sleeve. I had to hurt her to save her. And the whole time, you know what I kept thinking?”

She looked up at him, eyes burning. “Why wasn’t it you instead?” Silence. Derek swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Natasha said. “But that doesn’t fix her ribs. Or her lungs. Or the fact that she’s afraid to sleep because the last time she closed her eyes, she died.”

The silence stretched. Then she stood. “I don’t want your apologies. I don’t want your guilt. Just stay the hell away from her.”

And she walked out. She stormed down the hallway, the echo of her own voice still ringing in her ears. Her skin itched with leftover adrenaline. Her fists were clenched. Every step felt too loud. She just needed air..needed out. Her blood was still humming with the weight of what she said and how much of it was true.

She hadn’t meant to say it. She’d meant to keep it all inside. But Derek’s voice..his concern, his gentleness, it scraped against the jagged edge inside her and all the broken things spilled out. She hadn’t planned to scream at him. She hadn’t planned to say she wished he’d been the one bleeding out on the table. But she had. And she hadn’t lied. Her boots hit the linoleum harder now, like her whole body was trying to outrun the shame curling in her throat.

“Nat.”

Maria’s voice, low and sharp. Natasha kept walking. Maria didn’t move. Just grabbed her arm, firm, and pulled her into an empty consult room off the hall. The door shut behind them with a soft click. The silence inside the room was heavy and instant.

Maria stood in front of her, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “What happened?” Natasha didn’t answer. She moved toward the opposite wall, leaned against it with her jaw tight.

“Talk to me.” Maria said, slower now. “You’re not okay.”

“I never said I was.”

“No..” Maria snapped, “but I can see it.”

Natasha let out a bitter laugh. “You can see it because you’re back in the OR like nothing happened, while I’m still being evaluated like a mental patient.”

Maria’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “There it is.”

“What?”

“The jealousy.”

“Fuck off!”

“No.” Maria said, stepping forward. “Let’s be honest. You’re pissed that I’m cleared and you’re not.”

Natasha turned sharply, eyes flashing. “You think I care about surgical clearance?”

“I think you care that I look like I’m fine. That I’m functioning. That I’m moving on and you’re not.”

Natasha barked a humorless laugh. “You are fine.”

“No..” Maria said, quieter now. “I’m not. I’m just better at hiding it.”

Natasha shook her head. “You didn’t beg them to let you keep holding her heart after she flatlined.”

“No. I was the one who told you to let go.”

That silence hit like a gunshot. Natasha’s hands clenched. “You lied.”

“I protected you.”

“No..” she growled. “You made me think she was gone. You unclamped the damn cable!”

“She was gone, Nat.”

“No, she wasn’t! She was still warm. Her heart was twitching. I felt it. I had her blood under my nails and you wanted me to pretend it was over!”

“I needed you to breathe!” Maria snapped. “You were seconds away from breaking in front of the shooter!”

“Then maybe I should’ve!”

Silence. Natasha’s shoulders dropped. Her voice broke open. “She wasn’t supposed to get hit. It wasn’t supposed to be her. The shooter came for Derek. She got caught in it. And now she..she wakes up crying. She breathes like it hurts. She doesn’t know what happened.” Maria was quiet. Watching her unravel.

“And I’m..” Natasha swallowed. “I don’t know what this is anymore. I’m furious. At you. At him. At me. I keep walking past her room like I’m being dragged back into fire, and then I can’t make myself walk in. I sit at the table and I think if I look at her too long, I’ll snap. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.”

Maria stepped closer. Her voice softened just enough. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Then why am I like this?”

Maria didn’t answer right away. So Natasha filled the space herself. Her voice shaking now. “I can’t stop seeing it. Her body open. Her face slack. That second where she died under my hands, and I knew if I let go, she’d be gone. And now? Every time I see her breathing, I want to scream and cry and throw something.”

Her hands were trembling. “I don’t know what I feel.”

Maria looked at her carefully. Then said the one thing Natasha couldn’t bring herself to say: “You love her.”

“That’s none of your business..” Natasha muttered, voice hard.

“It became my business the second I saw her wake up and look around for you.”

That landed. Natasha’s jaw clenched. “She don’t need me there.”

“She wanted you there.”

Natasha said nothing. Maria’s voice dropped lower now. Gentle. Almost sad. “And now you’re not the only one she’s looking for.”

Natasha’s gaze flicked to her. “What?”

Maria hesitated. “Addison.”

Natasha blinked. “The new trauma nurse?”

“She came in with the post-shooting support team.”

“And?”

“She’s been visiting Y/n. A lot..I saw her talking.” Maria continued. “Yesterday. And again this morning.”

Natasha’s throat tightened. “Talking..” she echoed flatly.

Maria’s head tilted. “Laughing.”

Natasha’s jaw ticked. “I don’t know what it is.” Maria said honestly. “But I know it’s new. And I know you’re watching her slip through your fingers while you’re still hiding behind a damn window.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“You’re not showing up either.”

Natasha’s voice cracked. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Maria’s voice sharpened. “You’re scared. I know that. You almost lost her. I was in that OR with you, remember? I saw you fall apart in silence. But this..what you’re doing now, it’s not protecting her.”

Natasha’s arms folded tighter. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Start with ‘hi.’”

A bitter laugh left Natasha’s throat. Maria stepped closer. “She keeps asking about you.”

Natasha flinched. “She still looks at the door when someone walks in, like she’s hoping it’s you.” Maria said. “But it never is. And now? Addison’s the one walking through it.”

Silence. Maria softened. “Nat, you were the last person she saw before they pushed anesthesia. You were the last person who touched her heart before it stopped. You fought for her when everyone else gave up.”

She paused. “But none of that matters if you don’t show up now.”

Natasha’s fingers dug into her own arms. “I’m not…what if she doesn’t want me like that? What if she’s just grateful, and I’ve been reading it wrong this whole time?”

Maria smiled sadly. “Then find out. But do it before Addison does.”

Today:

The OR was cold, bright, silent, the kind of silence that buzzed just beneath the skin. Natasha stood at the head of the table, eyes locked on the open chest cavity in front of her. Everything else blurred around the edges. She had waited for this. Worked her ass off for it. One month post-shooting. Cleared. Back on the board. And her first transplant in weeks, a complicated arterial graft, high-risk.

And she was in her element. “Retractor.” she said quietly. “Suction to the left. I’m going for the clamp in three.”

She could hear the nurses shifting. Her team moving as one. She barely needed to look up. And then, the door slid open. Natasha didn’t glance up.

“Assistant requested?” came a familiar voice.

Addison... Of course. Natasha didn’t breathe. Just gave the briefest nod. “Welcome to the table.” Addison stepped into her field like she belonged there. She always did. Her gloved hands hovered just inside the sterile line, ready to step in.

“Need a vascular whisperer, huh?” Addison smiled beneath her mask.

Natasha’s lips barely moved. “Wall’s too calcified. Graft line’s tight.”

“Mm. Got it.” Addison leaned in, eyes scanning. “This part’s always delicate. You’re doing great.”

Natasha focused harder on the scalpel in her hand. They worked in tandem, moving without needing more than a word. But Addison? Addison was always the talker. And Natasha should’ve known she wouldn’t stay silent.

“You know.” Addison said softly, conversationally, like they weren’t elbows-deep in someone’s chest, “She told me this was the first surgery she ever watched you do.”

Natasha’s pulse stuttered. She said nothing. Addison kept going. “She said she watched you work like it was watching fire. That you didn’t even look real. I get it now.”

A nurse passed Natasha the graft tool. Her fingers shook, just for a second. “She always speaks so highly of you,.” Addison continued. “It’s cute, really..”

Natasha didn’t answer. Just clamped. “They told me you kept her alive. That you refused to stop even when the odds were nothing.”

“Focus.” Natasha said quietly. “I need to finish the arterial line.”

Addison didn’t flinch. She just softened her voice. “They said you didn’t let her go. Not even when they told you to. I’m…really glad you were there.”

Natasha didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her eyes were glued to the thread-thin suture she was guiding through tissue and graft. Her jaw was locked. Her shoulders too still. Addison’s voice turned even gentler. “She’s alive because of you. And I get to love her because of you.”

There it was. That last part was a whisper. Almost an offering. And Natasha..She smiled. That tight, too-sharp, I-might-destroy-something smile that never reached her eyes.

“Well.” she murmured. “Glad to be of service.”

Addison smiled too, oblivious or maybe willfully blind. “You’re kind of a miracle worker.”

Natasha didn’t speak. She might’ve thrown the scalpel across the room if it hadn’t still been in her hand. They finished the graft in silence. And when the new heart began to beat beneath her fingertips, strong, steady, she knew it wasn’t the only one still bleeding.

Just the only one allowed to show it. Natasha stood at the scrub sink post-op, letting the hot water scorch her palms. Her gloves were off. Her mask hung from one ear. Her eyes were fixed on the stream of pink-tinged water circling the drain, a mess rinsing clean. Too bad that didn’t work on her chest..The door creaked open behind her. She didn’t look up.

“Hell of a job.” Addison said, her voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. Natasha didn’t respond. Just kept scrubbing.

Addison stepped closer, her own mask now gone, red hair tied back, skin glowing from OR lights and a little victory rush.

“You still work like a goddamn machine.” she added, admiring. “Cold hands, warm heart… no pun intended.”

Natasha shot her a look in the mirror. “You coming in here for compliments or to gloat?”

“She talks about you, you know.” Addison said, voice softer now. “Y/n. Not the way I’d expect, given your history. Not with bitterness. Not even anger.”

Natasha’s expression didn’t change, but the pulse in her throat betrayed her. Addison leaned in slightly. “She talks like someone who never really got over something she didn’t let herself want.”

“I was her boss.”

“She was also in your bed.”

Natasha didn’t move. Addison’s smile widened. “One night, right?”

Natasha turned her head. Slowly. “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because I think it matters to you more than you let on.”

The air thickened. “I think..” Addison said, stepping back just a little, enough to feel like a threat pulled away, “you had her. You let her go. And now you can’t stand to see someone else hold what you dropped.”

Natasha laughed under her breath. Dry and dangerous. “You sound awfully smug for someone still checking over their shoulder.”

Addison’s gaze sharpened. “Oh, I’m not worried. She loves me.”

Natasha’s jaw twitched. “That’s new.”

Addison smiled. “No, Natasha. That’s earned.”

The OR was long cleared. The adrenaline had faded. The applause, the soft congratulations, the proud looks from the interns, it was all gone now. And Natasha was alone. The desk in the resident workroom was cluttered with post-op paperwork. Charts, vitals, blood gas reports, transplant summaries. Neatly stacked, just how she liked them. Her pen moved in clean, practiced strokes, her handwriting steady even when her heart wasn’t.

It had taken everything in her to keep still during that surgery. Everything not to shake when Addison leaned closer, asked for the scalpel, and casually said, “She talks about you, you know.” Everything not to respond. Not to react. Not to scream.

Natasha clenched her jaw now, eyes locked on the patient chart, but she wasn’t reading the numbers. Her focus had shifted somewhere quieter. Somewhere painful. The door opened. She didn’t look up. Maria walked in like she belonged there, because she did. Clipboard in one hand, a half-eaten protein bar in the other. Her steps slowed when she saw Natasha still sitting there, back rigid, shoulders squared like she was in an invisible battle.

“I heard you were in the transplant with Addison..” Maria said, soft but pointed. Natasha didn’t answer. Maria stepped closer, leaned against the desk. “How’d it go?”

The question hung between them. Natasha took her time placing her pen down, folding the chart closed with perfect care. She adjusted the edge until it aligned exactly with the stack beneath it. Her hand stayed on the file for a second longer than necessary. Then, finally, she looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot, but dry. Her voice was even, but low.

“You were right.” Natasha said. Maria tilted her head. “About what?”

“I lost her.”

The words didn’t slam out, they fell, heavy and quiet, like a knife dropped onto concrete. Maria’s breath hitched, just slightly. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just let Natasha keep going.

“I kept telling myself there’d be time..” Natasha said, eyes unfocused. “That I’d wait until she was better. Stronger. Until I was cleared. Until I wasn’t a mess.”

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. “But Addison didn’t wait.”

Silence. “I watched her put her hand on her shoulder in the scrub room last week. Like it meant something. Like she belonged there.” Natasha exhaled slowly, like the admission physically hurt. “And maybe she does.”

Maria’s voice was quiet. “She only got in because you never tried.”

Natasha let her head fall back slightly, eyes flicking to the ceiling. “I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of being the person who loved someone and didn’t know how to keep them!”

Maria took a step forward. “Nat-”

“I thought if I stayed quiet, if I kept my distance, it would make everything easier.”

She laughed under her breath. “It didn’t.”

Maria didn’t say I told you so. She didn’t need to. She just stood there, watching the strongest woman she knew finally let the truth settle into her bones. Natasha pressed her palms flat to the desk, bracing herself. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She looked so happy today.”

Maria said gently, “Would you rather she wasn’t?”

Natasha closed her eyes. “No. God, no.”

Her jaw trembled. “I just wish it was me.”

Silence wrapped around them again, not cruel, but raw. Maria reached over, placed a steady hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “She’s not gone. You didn’t lose her like that. You just…let her slip through your fingers.”

Natasha didn’t flinch. “She was in your hands once, Nat. Heart in your hands. And now someone else is holding it.” The chart beneath her hand still bore your name in neat black ink. Natasha stared at it. And didn’t move.

24 days before:

Natasha sat stiffly in the therapist’s office chair, arms crossed tightly over her chest. The small room felt too warm, too close, but her posture remained impeccably controlled. She answered the therapist’s gentle questions with clipped, clinical precision.

“I’m fine.” she said for the third time, her voice cool and even. “It was an unfortunate incident, but I’m ready to get back to work.”

The hospital trauma therapist , a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a soft voice nodded patiently, pen hovering over a notepad. “You went through a lot, Dr. Romanoff.” the therapist said quietly. “It’s okay if you’re not completely fine. Let’s talk about what happened in that OR.”

At the mention of the OR, Natasha’s jaw tightened. Her mind immediately pushed back against the memory threatening to surface, your blood on her gloves, the flatline tone screaming in her ears, the cold muzzle of a gun at her temple. She forced those images down, focusing instead on the steady tick of the clock on the wall.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Natasha replied, forcing a shrug. The effect was meant to be nonchalant, but her shoulders felt rigid. “My patient is alive. I did my job. End of story.”

Her tone was measured, almost detached. Only the slight tremor in her fingers, hidden as she clasped her hands in her lap, hinted at anything beneath the cool exterior. She was determined to keep it that way. Years of training taught her how to lock away fear and pain behind a steel wall of professionalism. She wasn’t about to let it crack now. The therapist offered a sympathetic smile. “Natasha…may I call you Natasha?”

A curt nod was the only answer she got. “Natasha, you performed CPR on her for nearly 4 minutes. You were still doing compressions when the shooter came in and forced you to stop at gunpoint.”

Natasha’s stomach clenched at the calm description of that horrific moment. She fixed her gaze on a spot on the floor, willing her face to remain impassive. The therapist continued gently, “That is a tremendous amount of trauma for anyone to process, especially when the person on that table is someone you…” she paused, “care about.”

For a split second, Natasha’s eyes squeezed shut, a flash of pain breaking through. Care about. The phrase was such an understatement it was almost laughable. But when Natasha opened her eyes again, they were cold, guarded.

“With respect.” she said sharply, “I don’t need a counseling session to tell me what I already know. I saved her life. It was traumatic, sure, but I’ve seen traumatic things before. I’m trained for this.”

Her words came out harder than intended, a defensive edge creeping in. The therapist leaned forward slightly, unfazed by Natasha’s icy tone. “You’re trained to handle medical emergencies, yes. But this wasn’t just any emergency. This was someone you love in danger.”

Natasha flinched at the word love and quickly masked it by sitting up even straighter. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, using the sharp pain to ground herself.

“It’s my job to handle it.” she replied, voice brittle. “And I handled it. She’s alive. I’m fine.”

The repetition of that phrase..I’m fine sounded hollow even to her own ears, and she hated it. She hated that her emotions were threatening to surface here, in this sterile room under the scrutiny of a stranger’s empathy. The therapist made a note on her pad, then looked back at Natasha, her expression gentle but firm. “I understand why you’d want to move on quickly. But the hospital requires clearance after an incident like this. I need to be sure you’re really ready. Right now, it sounds like you’re avoiding the feelings this brought up.”

Natasha’s temper, usually so carefully controlled, flickered at that. “Avoiding?” she echoed, a harsh, humorless laugh escaping before she could stop it. “What do you want me to say? That I was scared?”

She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, her green eyes narrowing. “Of course I was scared. Any surgeon would be, in that situation. But I did what I had to do. I don’t see how dissecting my feelings about it now is going to help anyone.”

The therapist met her glare calmly. “Talking about it can help you, Natasha. You went into fight-or-flight mode and haven’t come down. It might help to acknowledge what you went through. You didn’t just witness a trauma; you experienced it firsthand.”

She paused, voice softening. “You almost lost someone you love in that OR.”

Natasha’s controlled facade wavered. She felt a burning pressure behind her eyes and immediately looked away to stare at the diploma on the wall. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. Almost lost was an understatement. In her mind’s eye she saw your body jerking under her hands with each compression, saw the heart monitor flatline…heard her own voice screaming your name. Natasha’s fingers dug into her palm so hard it hurt. Don’t you dare, she scolded herself, fighting back the sting of tears.

She would not break down. Not here. Silence hung between them for a long moment. At last, the therapist sighed quietly and closed the notebook. “Natasha, I can’t clear you for surgical duty yet.”

Natasha’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Her voice came out sharp, disbelief and anger lacing the words. A hot spike of frustration shot through her chest. “I’m perfectly capable of operating.” The therapist’s words felt like a slap; surgery was Natasha’s purpose, the one area she always maintained control. Now they wanted to bench her? Her nails bit deeper crescents into her palms.

“I know this is frustrating.” the therapist replied evenly. “But your reactions today show me that you’re still in a state of acute stress. If I send you back to the OR without processing this, it could be dangerous for you and for your patients. You need a little more time and support. Maybe another session or two.”

Natasha shot to her feet, pacing a few steps across the tiny office. The controlled mask was slipping, anger seeping through the cracks. “I don’t need time!” she insisted, each word clipped. “What I need is to do my job. Sitting here talking in circles isn’t helping anyone.”

She knew she was practically snarling, but she couldn’t help it. Being told no ignited something panicked in her chest, a desperate need to regain normalcy, to scrub off the lingering feeling of helplessness by throwing herself back into work. The therapist remained seated, eyes following Natasha with a mix of concern and resolve. “Natasha, please..” she said softly. “This isn’t a punishment. You went through something terrible. It’s only been a week.” Only a week.

It felt like an eternity trapped in one endless nightmare replaying behind Natasha’s eyes. She dragged a hand through her hair, realizing belatedly it was trembling and quickly dropping it back to her side. She took a breath, forcing her voice into a colder register. “I said, I’m fine. I don’t need more time.”

But the quaver beneath her words betrayed her. Even she heard it. The therapist stood now as well, maintaining a respectful distance. “I’m sorry.” she said, and she truly sounded sorry. “I know you want to get back to the OR, but I have to do what’s best for you. For now, I’m not clearing you.”

Natasha’s hands balled into fists at her sides. A storm of emotion roiled in her chest , indignation, fear, and an ache of frustration threatening to choke her. She didn’t trust herself to speak. If she opened her mouth, she wasn’t sure whether a scream or a sob might come out.

Instead, she gave a tight nod, snatched her jacket from the chair, and strode to the door. Her vision blurred for just an instant as she grasped the doorknob. Pull it together, she scolded herself harshly. She blinked the wetness from her eyes, willing her composure back. Without another word or a backward glance, Natasha yanked the door open and stepped out into the hallway, letting it shut perhaps a bit too hard behind her.

Today:

The hospital floor had settled into a lull. Monitors beeped lazily. The fluorescent lights above cast a soft white glow over tired staff. At the edge of the counter, Natasha Romanoff stood with one hand on a patient chart, pen poised, focus razor-sharp. Or at least, that’s what she wanted it to look like. She wasn’t writing. She was pretending to write. And Maria Hill saw right through it.

“Uh huh..” Maria said, striding up beside her. “Busy with that chart, I see. Real intense.”

Natasha didn’t look up. “Complicated case.”

“Right.” Maria drawled. “So complicated you forgot to call back the girl I hand-delivered to you.”

Natasha gave her a glance. “You what?”

“That ICU nurse. Red scrubs. Obvious crush. You were supposed to call her three nights ago.”

Natasha shrugged, barely hiding her smirk. “I got distracted.”

Maria crossed her arms. “You haven’t touched anyone in weeks.”

“Not a crime.”

“It is when you’re Romanoff and you’re acting like a nun. Something’s wrong with the world order.”

Natasha’s smirk twitched wider. “I’ve evolved.”

“You’ve repressed.” Just then, a laugh echoed down the hallway. The kind that hit too loud, too warm. Maria and Natasha both looked. You.

Coming out of one of the one-night rooms. Scrubs a little wrinkled. Cheeks flushed. Addison Montgomery trailing behind you with the cocky kind of smirk that only came from a very satisfying break. You were laughing at something Addison whispered into your ear. The sound hit Natasha in the chest like a punch wrapped in silk.

Maria’s voice softened just slightly. “They’ve got rhythm now, huh?” Natasha didn’t answer. She just looked away, pen tapping absently against the edge of the chart.

“She’s happy.” she said after a moment. “That’s what matters.”

Maria narrowed her eyes. “You mean that?”

“I mean it.”

“You’re over it?”

“I’m fine, Maria.”

“Sure..” Maria said, too sweet. “You look great. Pale. Unkissed. Basically one step from adopting twelve cats and crying during shampoo commercials.”

Natasha snorted, finally giving her a real look. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you’re lying.”

Natasha tilted her head, amused. “Oh?”

Maria leaned in, eyes sly. “You used to bring women to their knees with a look, Nat. You flirted like it was a blood sport. You had entire departments whispering after you walked by.”

“And now?”

Maria shrugged. “Now you’re reading vitals like they’re romance novels and making up fake cases so you don’t have to walk past the one-night rooms.”

Natasha exhaled a laugh, dry and low. Maria didn’t let up. “I miss that Romanoff. The one who made the air thick with tension. Who could snap her fingers and make anyone follow her into a storage closet just to beg.”

Natasha raised a brow. “Beg?”

“You know I’m right.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Natasha’s smile turned sharper. She tilted her head, lips parting slowly.

“You want that Romanoff back?”

“I dare you.” Maria said, grinning.

Just then, a nurse passed by, tall, striking, early thirties, glancing up from her tablet. She caught Natasha’s eye. Blushed. Fumbled slightly with her pen. Maria arched a brow. “Perfect timing.”

Natasha didn’t hesitate. She stepped away from the nurses’ station and fell into step beside the woman, voice smooth as honey.

“Hey.” Natasha said, easy and low. “Long shift?”The nurse looked up, visibly startled, and then visibly flustered. “Yeah..Ten hours.”

Natasha offered the kind of smile that always came with a price. “You know what helps with that?”

The nurse swallowed. “What?”

“Letting someone else do all the hard work.”

Maria almost choked on her own coffee. The nurse laughed, nervously, excitedly, and Natasha leaned in just a little.

“I’ve got ten minutes..” she murmured, “and I promise you won’t be thinking about work when I’m done.”

The nurse blushed hard. “Are you-do you mean..?”

Natasha nodded toward the hallway. “Supply room. Now or never.”

The nurse didn’t even hesitate. As they disappeared together into the hall, Natasha tossed one last glance over her shoulder at Maria. Maria raised her arms in mock worship. “There she is!” Natasha winked. And vanished into the dark with the nurse.

Days later, Natasha blinks down at the chart in her hand again, but the words blur. She’s not even supposed to be here, her shift ended thirty minutes ago, but the second she saw the name on the appointment list, she hadn’t walked away. She hadn’t even hesitated. The door clicks open behind her.

“Nat?”

She turns. You stand there in scrubs, slightly flushed from running up the stairs. Your smile is tight, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

“I, uh..” You clear your throat. “I was supposed to have a follow-up with one of the trauma nurses today. About the scar. And they need someone from cardio to sit in.”

Natasha arches a brow. “You could’ve asked anyone.”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip. “But I asked you..”

That pulls Natasha short. For a beat, she just…stares. She knows Addison works the late shift today. Knows this isn’t about logistics. Not entirely. And for the briefest second, she lets herself feel it, that flicker of something private.

“I’ll come.” she says quietly.

You smile, wide this time, and lead the way. The room smells like antiseptic and lavender lotion, a weird mix, like someone tried to cover up the clinical with something softer. You sit on the exam table, legs dangling. Natasha leans against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, pretending to be casual. She’s not.

“So…” You look down. “You and that nurse.”

Natasha’s head tilts. “Which nurse?”

You smirk. “Oh come on. The one with the long lashes. Room 4C?”

Natasha chuckles, surprised. “You keeping tabs on me now?”

“No.” You shrug. “Just proud of you.”

That hits deeper than it should. Natasha blinks. “We’ve been through hell.” you say softly. “And now you’re, you know. Living again. That’s a good thing.”

Natasha says nothing. The silence stretches a little too long. So you look away, your voice dipping lower. “I mean, I don’t know everything that happened that day. What it was like for you. But I know it must’ve been…more.”

More than you can imagine. More than anyone knows. Before Natasha can respond, the door opens and a nurse steps in. “Hey.” the woman says brightly. “You ready to take a look?”

You nod, swallowing hard. Your posture shifts..stiffens. Natasha sees it immediately. The tension in your jaw. The way your hands twist in your lap. “Just need to raise the gown a little..there we go.”

The nurse gently lifts the hem, exposing the scar across your chest. It’s mostly healed now, red and jagged but clean. No infection. No swelling. But it’s not the physical part that gets you. It’s the look in your eyes. Wide. Flickering. Lost in a memory you don’t want to relive.

Natasha swallows. And then, without thinking, she moves. Her hand slides into yours. You flinch for half a second, but then exhale slow, shaky. You squeeze back. Just once. Natasha’s eyes drop to the scar. She sees the angle of it. The tissue damage. Her own scalpel. Her own hands. And suddenly-

Blood.

Suction.

Flatline.

The weight of a heart in her palm.

She blinks it away before it swallows her. The nurse murmurs something about tissue healing well and finishes up, giving you both a quick smile before ducking out. The second the door clicks shut, you finally speak.

“It still hurts sometimes.”

Natasha nods. “I know.”

You look at her. And for a second, neither of you pretends. After a while the doctor existed you.

“Hey.” you say, almost hesitant. “Are you… doing anything tonight?”

Natasha blinks, caught off guard. “No. Not unless a liver decides to rupture last-minute.”

You smile. “Wanna go to Joe’s?”

Natasha looks at you. Really looks at you. “Joe’s?”

“Yeah. Just us. I, um…I want to talk to you. Something important.” Something warm flutters in Natasha’s chest. Not fast. Not loud. Just…there.

She nods. “Sure.” The bar isn’t full yet. Just the low hum of chatter, a clink of glasses, and the smell of fried everything. You claim the usual booth in the back, the one you’d stumbled into on late nights after 36-hour shifts, shoes kicked off beneath the table. You’re already sipping a beer when Natasha joins you.

You talk for nearly an hour. About the new cardio attending who thinks he’s God’s gift to women and can’t intubate for shit. About Addison’s constant NPR podcasts in the morning. About that intern who almost passed out during a C-section. Natasha laughs more than she expects to. And every time you smile at her, really smile something unravels a little deeper in her chest. Then you go quiet. Your fingers toy with the edge of a napkin.

“Okay..” you say finally. “This is the part I was nervous about.”

Natasha straightens slightly, heart picking up just enough for her to feel it. “I’ve been meaning to tell you..” you continue, voice gentle. “But I didn’t want to just spring it on you at work.”

Natasha swallows. “Okay…”

You look up at her, eyes warm, almost shy. “I’m getting married.”

The words land like ice water. Natasha doesn’t flinch. She smiles. “Oh.” she says, her voice honey-smooth. “Wow. Congratulations.”

Your face lights up, radiant, soft. “Thanks.”

Natasha doesn’t blink. She can’t afford to. “I wanted to tell you before it went around the hospital..” you add. “And I wanted to…ask you something.”

Natasha nods once, tight. Bracing. “I’d really love if you came to the wedding.”

Natasha laughs, light, effortless, the way she’s perfected it. “You want me there when Addison says ‘I do’? That’s brave.”

You smile, a little bashful. “You’re not just anyone. You…you saved my life. You were there when I came back. And somehow, even with all the crazy and all the silence, you became one of my closest friends.”

Natasha’s throat burns. But she nods. “Of course I’ll be there.” Your shoulders drop with relief. “Really?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” There’s a long pause, soft and full of nothing but old music and the distant crack of a pool ball across the bar. “You’re important to me, Nat.” you say quietly.

Natasha looks at you then. And for just a second, a flicker, a heartbeat, she lets the smile drop. Just enough for it to feel real. “I know.” she whispers.

“You can bring someone to the wedding. If you want.”

Natasha blinks, startled for just a second. “Oh. Uh…”

“I mean..” you continue quickly, “you don’t have to. I just thought, I don’t know. That nurse..?”

Natasha smirks faintly. “Sophie.”

You smile. “Right. Sophie.”

Natasha nods. “I’ll ask her.”

You nudge her again, teasing this time. “So it is serious.”

Natasha’s smile stays in place. Just the right shape. Just the right strength. “She knows what she’s doing.” she says lightly. “Smart. Funny. Kind of scary with a scalpel.”

You grin. “Your type, then.”

Then she picked up her drink. “To love.”

“To love.” you repeat.

It was getting late. The kind of late where the streets are mostly empty and the neon beer signs flicker like they’re too tired to glow properly. Inside, Joe’s is half-lit and half-full, music soft and low, the clatter of glasses still carrying over low conversations.

Natasha leans back against the booth, her second, no, fourth, whiskey sliding warm through her veins. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair a little messy from where she’s run her fingers through it a hundred times tonight. Across from her, you laugh, red in the cheeks, buzzing with that same alcohol warmth. Your beer is barely touched, but the shots Maria lined up earlier had done enough damage.

“I can’t believe you actually challenged Mark to a ‘who can hold a plank longer’ contest!” you giggle, leaning forward to steal one of the peanuts from Natasha’s side of the table.

“He insulted my abs.” Natasha slurs a little, smug. “That’s a war crime.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“You’re laughing.” Natasha points out, finger waggling dramatically. “Which means you love it.”

“I think I’m just drunk.”

“Drunk on me..again.” Natasha declares with a lazy smirk. You roll your eyes but grin. “You’re such a menace when you drink.” You finish the last of your glasses in clinks and shaky giggles, Natasha tilting her head back to drain the final sip. She exhales hard and slow, letting the silence fall for just a beat between you. Then, Natasha murmurs, “I wish I was her.”

You furrow your brow. “Who?” Natasha blinks, eyes heavy-lidded. “Addison.”

There’s a pause. Then you snort. “Are you drunk-flirting with me again?”

“I’m serious.” Natasha says, voice suddenly softer. “I wish I was the one who got to hold your hand in public. Got to kiss you whenever I wanted. Got to…just be with you.”

You stare at her. “Nat-”

But Natasha’s eyes are glassy now, her voice dipping somewhere vulnerable and dangerous. “You remember that night? The one night. Before the hospital. Before the shooting.“ You don’t answer. Natasha sways slightly in her seat, drunk and raw. “It wasn’t nothing. Not to me.”

A beat of silence. Then Natasha’s hand moves, hesitant, trembling, reaching across the table to cover yours. And you don’t pull away. So Natasha leans forward. She’s close enough to taste the alcohol on your breath, to see the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes. Close enough that if you moved an inch forward, your mouths would meet.

And then they do. Just for a second. Lips brushing, soft and unsure, a kiss not of hunger, but ache. But the second it happens- You pull back. Not harsh or angry. Just startled. Reality slamming between you. Natasha jerks back, guilt flashing instantly across her face. “Shit- shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

You exhale, blinking hard. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to-” Natasha scrubs her hand across her face. “No, I did, but I shouldn’t have-”

You reach out gently, laying your hand on Natasha’s arm. “Hey.”

Natasha stops. “It’s okay..” you repeat, quieter now. “You’re drunk. I’m drunk. And we’re both a little stupid tonight.”

Natasha laughs, hollow and small. You give a soft smile back. “Let’s just get home before one of us makes another mistake.”

Natasha nods, throat tight. “Yeah. Good idea.” But as you stumble out into the night, side by side, shoulders brushing- Natasha doesn’t stop wishing she could go back. Just one more second..Just long enough to see if you would’ve kissed her back if you hadn’t pulled away first.

1 Month later:

The hospital hums like it always does, monitors beeping, carts rattling down hallways, someone yelling about a misplaced chart. But something’s different. Something feels different. Everyone’s smiling more. Because everyone knows what today is.

“Bride incoming!” someone calls out as you step off the elevator, clipboard in hand. A round of playful cheers echo from the nurses’ station.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the grin tugging at your lips. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“You’re the one still working on your wedding day..” An intern calls from across the hallway, raising a brow. “That’s what’s ridiculous.”

“I just had one patient left to check on.” you insist, waving the chart. “It’s not like I’m gonna flatline on the way to the altar.”

“You better not.” a nurse mutters. “Or we’re doing CPR in tulle.”

That earns a laugh. But even as the staff clears the path for you, teasing and cheering, you duck behind a corner near the stairwell, just for a second. Just to breathe.

And then- “Really?” Addison’s voice rings out with that unmistakable blend of fondness and sass. “You’re hiding?”

You wince and peek around the corner. Addison is standing there in wine-colored scrubs, her hair half-up, makeup soft and done just enough to hint at the occasion. Your smile is sheepish. “I just needed a second.”

Addison steps closer, arms crossed. “You do know the whole ‘you can’t see the bride’ thing only counts when the bride’s actually in the dress, right?”

You huff a laugh. “Yeah, well. Close enough.”

Addison’s gaze softens. “You okay?”

“I’m…excited.” you admit. Then, quieter, “And maybe a little freaked out.”

Addison steps forward, slipping her arms gently around your waist. “That’s fair. But I promise not to let you run.”

You lean into her, breathing in the familiar scent of Addison’s perfume, something clean and crisp, like citrus and lavender. “You’d tackle me in the aisle, wouldn’t you?”

Addison smirks. “With love.”

You stand there for a quiet beat, the sound of the hospital fading under the weight of the moment.

“Do I at least get to see the dress before the ceremony?” Addison asks, nosing along your temple.

You pull back just enough to grin. “Nope. Rules are rules.”

Addison groans. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

Your cheeks flush. “I’ll head out soon. Just wanted one last round.”

“Of what?” You look around the hospital, your second home. Your battlefield. The place that nearly broke you…and gave you everything. “One last moment before everything changes.”

Addison presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at the altar.” You move down the corridor with a tablet in hand, scribbling notes from your last patient. Your hair is pulled up hastily, your badge slightly crooked, but you’re focused, in that calm, collected way you always are when your mind is busy. “Watch it-”

You collide into someone turning the corner. The tablet nearly drops, but steady hands catch you before it does. “Gotcha.” a familiar voice murmurs. You look up. Natasha. All black scrubs. Her hair is pulled back messily, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on her temples, the kind that only comes from a surgery done right. You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

Natasha chuckles, letting go of your arm slowly. “I noticed.” Her voice is low. Playful. But there’s something…careful in her eyes. “What are you still doing here? I thought today was…kind of a big deal?”

You give her a sheepish look. “I had a couple things to finish up. Patients don’t stop needing care just because I’m getting married in a few hours.”

Natasha nods once, smiling, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Right. Of course.”

There’s a beat. Something unsaid is heavy in the space between you. Natasha shifts, then clears her throat, trying not to look as nervous as she feels. “Hey. That night. At Joe’s…” You look up sharply.

Natasha tries to keep it casual. “Do you… remember it?”

There’s a flash of something in your eyes. Surprise. Maybe something more. But you recover quickly, smiling, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “No..” you shrug. “I don’t know. I was pretty tipsy. You know how Joe’s gets. Loud. Blurry.”

You say it lightly. Natasha blinks once. Nods slowly. “Right.” She smiles. “Blurry.”

Her voice is quieter now. But steady. “Well…I should go. I’ve got charts to finish and, you know. A suit to iron.”

You laugh. “Oh..suit?”

Natasha shrugs with a smirk. “I’m full of surprises.” Then, just as she’s about to turn. A loud chorus echoes from down the hall. “Y/n!”

Your family. Your mom, arms wide. A younger cousin carrying a bouquet. A sibling with a camera already filming. They descend like a joyful storm, ushering you away, laughing and pulling you by the hand. Your smile blossoms instantly, all light and love. But right before you’re swept away completely, you glance back. And Natasha is still standing there, watching. Smiling. Still. But her eyes are dimmer now. Just a little. You lift a hand in a small wave, mouthing: “See you there.” Natasha lifts her fingers in a wave, too. Then she turns.

The golden light from the wide windows filters in like honey, soft and warm against the white walls and the lace-trimmed veil draped over the vanity chair. The hum of string music floats faintly from the garden outside. Everything is quiet. Perfect. You stand in front of the mirror in your wedding dress. You’re breathtaking. Hair pinned just right. Lips glossed in a soft pink. The gown fits like it was made for you,elegant, timeless, radiant. But your fingers fidget at the edge of the lace bodice. You exhale, shallow and slow, eyes meeting your own reflection like you’re trying to steady yourself.

Then, the door creaks open. Your intern, Jules, pokes her head in. Dressed to the nines in a simple plum bridesmaid gown, her hair curled, her grin wide. “Is the bride taking visitors? Or are we preserving the mystique?”

You turn, grinning. “Come in, before I sweat through this dress.” Jules walks in, stops just a few feet away, and lets her eyes sweep up and down, clearly stunned. “Holy crap…You look like the main character in every love story I’ve ever watched at 3 a.m. while crying into ice cream.”

You laugh, the kind that wrinkles your nose. “Wow. That good?”

“Better.” She steps closer, adjusting a tiny piece of veil near your shoulder.

“You happy?” You nod slowly. “Yeah. I really am.”

Your voice is soft, certain, but there’s a slight tightness in it. “Good. You deserve happy. Especially after…you know. Everything.”

A silence hangs between you for a moment, not heavy, but not light either. Then Jules smiles again, trying to lift the mood. “Honestly? If you’d told me months ago that I’d be here watching you marry Addison Montgomery, I would’ve lost a bet.”

You raise an amused brow. “What, you didn’t think we’d make it?”

“No, I just…” She hesitates, then shrugs, “I kinda thought you were gonna end up with Romanoff.” The words land like a soft, slow punch. Your breath catches. “What?”

“Oh. sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. It just…I don’t know. Back then, after the shooting, it was like she only existed when you were in the room. The way she looked at you? It wasn’t subtle. None of us thought it was just professional.”

You turn back to the mirror slowly, your eyes distant. “She never said anything.”

“She didn’t have to.”

Your fingers still against the edge of the vanity. Your heart thuds once, too hard. “What exactly… do you mean?”

Jules shifts, suddenly realizing this might be more than casual talk. “I mean… I guess no one ever told you?”

You turn to face her, serious now. “Told me what?”

Jules opens her mouth. Then sighs. “Okay. Don’t freak out, but.. when you were in the OR, after the shooting, your heart stopped. Maria unclamped the cable to fake a flatline when the shooter came in. The machine went quiet on purpose.”

Your face drains of color. “And Natasha…she lost it. She refused to stop. Even with a gun pointed at her. She kept fighting for you. Said she could still feel your heart fluttering. She was shaking. Crying. But she wouldn’t let you go.”

You stumble backward, gripping the back of the chair. You sit, hard. Your vision blurs, like you’re trying to remember something you never got to witness. “They said she only let go when Maria begged her to, for everyone’s safety. She looked like she broke right there. After that…she was different. Didn’t sleep. Didn’t talk to anyone. She didn’t step into an OR for almost a month.”

You stare at the floor. Your mind races, back to Joe’s. That drunken kiss. The way Natasha looked at you. How she said, “I wish I was her…” and meant it.

All this time. You’d thought it was just a drunken mistake. A blip. But it wasn’t, was it? It was grief. Jules swallows, realizing her mistake. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t need this today, I just-”

You look up suddenly, and your smile is back. But it’s different now. “It’s okay. Really.”

“I love Addison. I’m marrying Addison.” You exhale. “Whatever that was with Natasha… it’s in the past.”

Your voice is strong. Steady. And your hands are shaking in your lap. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”

Jules leans down, squeezes your shoulder gently. “I’ll give you a minute.”

You nod. The door shuts. And you’re alone with the reflection again. Your fingers brush the scar on your chest, just visible in the low dip of the neckline. A line Natasha once held in her hands. You close your eyes. And for a second… you let yourself wonder: What if? But then you stand. Straighten your veil. And walk toward your own happy ending. Even if it’s not the one you expected.

The soft hush of music filled the air, delicate piano echoing beneath the vaulted ceiling of the garden hall. White flowers lined every aisle. Rows of guests, hushed and smiling, turned their heads in unison. You stepped into view.

Your gown shimmered in the afternoon light, every stitch tailored with care. You held a small bouquet of white lilacs and peonies, Addison’s favorite. Your father’s arm was steady at your side. Your eyes, uncertain, but brave, locked ahead, on the woman waiting for you at the altar. Addison stood poised, radiant in an ivory suit, the softest smile blooming across her face. Love, unmistakable and unfiltered, shone in her eyes as she watched you take each step closer.

In the second row, dressed in slate-gray, Natasha Romanoff sat still. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, fingers pale where they pressed into each other. A fine sheen of sweat coated her brow, though the room was cool. She didn’t blink. Barely breathed. She’d rehearsed this, told herself a hundred times she could do it.

But as the pastor began to speak, each word was like glass beneath her ribs. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” You reached Addison, gently taking her hands. Your fingers laced together, familiar and warm. You exchanged a quick look, loving, easy. Your lips twitched into a nervous smile.

Natasha didn’t blink. Beside her, Sophia leaned in slightly. “You okay?” she whispered. Natasha didn’t answer. Just nodded. The pastor continued. “If any person here knows of any lawful impediment as to why these two should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Natasha’s throat tightened. Her pulse roared in her ears. She looked around. No one moved. Not a breath stirred. Her own legs tensed. She turned to Sophia, barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

Then she stood. A quiet murmur rippled through the guests. Addison’s expression didn’t shift, but her grip on your hand tightened. Natasha looked like she hadn’t meant to stand. Her hand hovered uselessly by her side. Her chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. And then, as if gravity caught up, she started to sit again- But stopped.

Instead, her voice, shaky, but clear, cut through the stunned silence. “I can’t.

Every head turned. Your eyes widened. Addison’s jaw tightened. “I’m sorry.” Natasha said, her voice rising now, firmer.

“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t plan to ruin this, I swear. I was gonna let you go. I wanted to. I told myself that was the right thing.” Her eyes found yours. Just yours.

“But I can’t sit here and watch you promise your whole life to someone else…without saying this.”

She stepped into the aisle now. The guests parted like waves. “I didn’t show up when I should have. Not after the shooting. Not after. I stayed away because I thought I’d break you even more.”

Her voice cracked. “But the truth is…I broke myself.”

Natasha swallowed hard, shaking her head. “That day, when I brought you to the OR, I wasn’t thinking about duty or protocol or even survival. I was thinking about your laugh. Your sarcasm. The stupid way you always corrected some post-op notes with a pink pen.”

A soft, stunned laugh rippled somewhere in the crowd. Natasha didn’t blink. “When your heart stopped, I didn’t let go. I held it in my hands. I begged it to come back. Even when- I just couldn’t.”

She looked down. Her voice softer now. “Because it wasn’t just your life I was trying to save.”

She looked up again. Straight into you. “It was mine too.”

The room held its breath. You stood frozen at the altar. Pale. Silent. Addison’s grip on your hand had loosened. Natasha took one more shaky step forward.

“You asked me that night at Joe’s…what I meant.” She exhaled, brokenly. “I meant that I’ve been in love with you since the first time you rolled your eyes at me in the trauma bay. Since the first coffee. Since the night we lost ourselves and pretended it meant nothing.”

She smiled, a tired, tear-bright smile. “But it meant everything to me.”

And then Natasha whispered, “I love you.”

Dead silence. The words hung in the air like smoke. And then, softly, apologetically, Natasha stepped back.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered. “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to say anything. I just…couldn’t let today pass without you knowing.”And with that, she turned to walk away. The room didn’t move. Neither did you.

The silence was crushing. The kind of silence that bent time. You stood frozen at the altar. Addison’s hand had just fallen from yours. The bouquet was on the floor behind you. Your chest rose and fell too quickly. You could still feel the echo of Natasha’s voice, raw and real and shattering, and now the room was full of stares, but you couldn’t see any of them.

Your eyes were locked on the door Natasha had disappeared through. And then you looked at Addison. Her face was unreadable. But her eyes- They weren’t angry. They were knowing.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Swallowed hard. “I’m sorry..” you said.

Addison blinked. “Y/n…”

“I’m so-” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”

Addison took a shaky breath and smiled. It was sad. But not bitter. “Go.”

Your chest clenched. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know.” Addison whispered. “But she’s out there.” That was all it took. You turned and ran.

[sharkorok]

all eyes on you (enhypen)

or the moments that make everyone think you’re dating

cw/genre: idol!reader, reader doesnt have specified gender but implied to be a female, fluff, so cute bye, secret relationships, humor, u have delulu fans

requested: naurrr

a/n: ehe thx for 100 followers :) I hope my writing makes u happy because knowing people read my works makes me super duper happy! luv uuuu

•-•-•-•-•-•

heeseung

-at an awards show your outfits were matching, like very obviously matching

-matching bracelets, you had one on your left wrist and he had one on the right, the colors matched each other, same style and aesthetic…

-he gets v nervous but also you were in some dating rumors with another idol so…he wouldn’t be mad if he was next tbh….BUT THEN UR GROUP WAS ASSIGNED NEXT TO HIM??

-dawg was sweating the whole time trying not to admire you and how cute you two looked

-but no every one of those “enhypen mma reaction” or “heeseung reaction focus” showed him very clearly staring at you 😭, twt had a field day with you two

-he can’t help it, you looked so good and how can he keep his eyes off his lovely s/o when they’re all dressed up + matching?? seriously his management was insane for putting him so close to you

-and when all groups were leaving he was seen literally sprinting to be closer to you

-ya dispatch didn’t even need to confirm anything after that awards show

the others r below!

jay

-during a live he got his guitar out and started playing all your favorite songs

-and this was literally a day after you named your favorite songs

-then to make it worse he was like “yeah these are y/n’s favorite songs don’t they have good music taste?” and then he kept talking about you and staff was sweating while watching istg

-the way he talked about you tho,,he either had a massive crush on you or you two were dating

-the ship edits the next day were insane honestly some of your fans need to get into the editing business because you genuinely believed a photo of him holding your waist was taken at inkigayo

-he doesn’t even try to hide how much he likes you istg, he goes out of his way to talk to you at awards shows and always films challenges with you, he gives the shippers so much content

-then another time jay cooked your favorite food in a vlog and specifically said it was your favorite food, name dropping and everything

-literally no one is surprised that you two are confirmed dating after a while.

jake

-accidentally went on live while talking about you

-he fully believed he closed out of the app when he was talking to jay and saying stuff like, “I’m really excited to see her at the performance, I hope we have time to hang out…” and then he hears notifications and sees that he was streaming and he nearly faints

-plays it off like he fully intended for everyone to hear that and continues like he planned on going live

-he’s also trying to hide the way his eyes flickered up to your rapid texts being like, “JAKE WHY ARE WE TRENDING ON TWITTER??”

-jay is behind the camera just trying not to laugh becuz how do you even recover from this one, literally all the comments are talking about you and him

-“y/n…? yeah ahahah I know her uh huh mhm anyways moving on” and his horrible deflecting skills are making it even more obvious

-and when you go on live?? oh u bet the comments are “did you see jake’s recent live?? are u cheating on us y/n?”

-u desperately distract by spoiling your comeback but there’s already 14k Tik toks analyzing every interaction you had with Jake and why you two are cosmically intertwined

sunghoon

-describes you to a T when asked about his ideal type

-he meant to just mention the broad details but he gets excited talking about u ok :(

-“yeah a good heart and around (your exact height), with (the hex code of your eye color) eyes, born on (your birthday), hobbies include (every single one of your hobbies) and also…(literally all the information under your kprofiles page)”

-ur fans catch on and are like “isn’t this literally y/n” and he’s like “omg nooo coincidence”

-it is NOT a coincidence bro he was fully thinking of you and only you during that interview

-anyways you don’t help the situation by describing him too when asked about your ideal type, but ur at least a tad less obvious 😭

-“yea I love guys who ice skate and stuff”

-u two definitely get scolded by management

sunoo

-sometimes he forgets to care about keeping things secret (like that lipton tea thing he did)

-so he’s showing fans his camera roll and he shows selfies you never posted before…in his camera roll…never before seen by anyone but him and you to the camera and is like

-“y/n’s visual is so perfect, right?”

-and yeah duh ur stunning and gorgeous but fans are distracted by your beauty for a second before being like “hm…how did he get those selfies and why r they in his camera roll”

-ur fans r thankful for the content tho so he kinda did everyone a favor

-but it’s a LITTLE suspicious…but neither of you address anything so it just festers a little

-until you two do a tik tok challenge together and he captions it with a heart emoji like oh my god 😭

-you’re not innocent either when you said “sunoo’s visual is so amazing” like both of you get some media training I beg

-everyone loves how obviously whipped you two are for each other tho :,)

jungwon

-accidentally exposes your polaroid in his phone case

-thankfully he has photos of his members and maeum but why were you there??

-he completely ignores it tbh he shows the photos to the camera and is like “these r the polaroids in my phone case. anyways.” n he’s playing it cool but internally he’s PANICKING

-“hopefully they didn’t see the heart I drew on the Polaroid,” he thinks foolishly

-we did.

-so you try to do some damage control on your own live when asked about why he has ur photo in his phone and ur like “oh we’re really close friends!!”

-n honestly that’s a good and healthy response because everyone has the right to their platonic relationships

-but jungwon’s heart he drew on your Polaroid was just a little bit tooooo suspicious…anyways this leads to fans over-analyzing every single interaction to the point you two weren’t allowed to be seen in a ten foot proximity at events for a while

-but at least it reminded jungwon to be more careful lolol

niki

-accidentally rizzes you up on live television

-you’re an mc for smth and you’re interviewing enhypen and you’re like, “oooh, some burning questions, what is your ideal type?”

-and Niki, with no hesitation fully goes, “you lol” and you see ur career flash before your eyes

-ur co mc is nervously laughing and niki realizes like oh wait we’re being broadcasted so he’s like “oh just kidding haha!!!” even though you two are making awkward eye contact while you’re mentally scolding him

-he’s so used to teasing and flirting with you in private so it’s a little hard to shake off in public

-anyways fans notice he’s looking at you a little too lovingly and being a little too genuine when he responded so it’s not long before you see ship edits on Twitter and tik tok

-doesn’t help when you answer the ideal type question with “someone who is playful and funny” thinking it was broad enough but ‘twas not <3

-he doesn’t really care too much but thought it was funny, even if he had to take a media training class again afterwards >:T

[respectthepetty]

I do not care about Oh nor his mama in episode five of Your Sky because I have more important things to focus on.

Like color-coded boys IN LOVE since Rak only wore his Blue Boy's color this entire episode.

And it's obvious Fah loves Rak because whoever bought that 💕heart💕 sign for this show deserves a raise!

Real needs to quit judging other color-coded boys in love for arm wrestling and hold his Red Rascal's hand before Hia finds another boy to flirt with! I'm counting on them to bring the special Domundi spice, so I need Real to be like his bestie.

And HOLD HIS BOY'S HAND!

Because none of this is fake at this point. Fah loves Rak, and Rak is IN PINK loves Fah.

Their whole world is turning pink.

Because PINK = 💕LOVE💕!!!!

Then, Yellow Yal Rak wore green, which is a mix of his and Fah's color!

So when Blue Boy Fah finally wears Rak's color, I'm going to scream so high that only animals will be able to hear it.

Since Rak continues to wear Fah's color. Like all the time. Seven days a week. Every hour. Every minute. Every second!

And that's what is so great about this! Rak doesn't realize he is in love but keeps wearing Fah's color because he is very much in love, while Fah, who is aware he loves Rak, is hiding his color most of the time!

So I'm going to believe the "R" over Fah's heart is intentional from the wardrobe department, and we get to see what's in Fah's heart even if he keeps it very well hidden.

Like how much he wants to be domestic with Rak in their color-coded kitchens!

And, once again, Rak is in ALL BLUE thinking about that almost kiss.

Since he was in Fah's blue room trying to get "more intimate"

But in a way that Babe would not approve of!

So, thank goodness, Lee is there to not only help his best friend move this plot and relationship along.

But he is also there to help his brother too!

So for his reward, he should get this cutie like the tags keep telling me!

But beyond Lee, the entire group understands the assignment, and pushes these two color-coded boys in love closer together by filming a music video.

And we almost get a kiss, well, before Babe stops it since they didn't leave room for Jesus.

Sidenote: The color-coded accessories in this show are world class because Rak's script folder was yellow and Fah's was blue.

But even though the kiss was interrupted and Rak claimed he was sick because he doesn't realize he is in love, we still ended the episode with him IN BLUE because he is IN LOVE!

And instead of the 🎶Blinding Light of Love🎶 only showing up in his fantasy,

It started to emerge in real life when Fah showed up at his door to take care of him.

NOW LET'S GO TO THE BEACH!

[marilynthornhilllover]

Hi! Can I have a request on "mommy!marilyn x Reader"? like when Marilyn teaches reader how to drive but R messed up and Marilyn get angry and decided to spank r at the back at the car trunk and f***k r until r know what she did was wrong? (NFSW, spanking, and strap-on)

Kinktober fanfic #1

Was it casual then?

Mommy Marilyn T. X Fem!Reader

Warning: NSFW smut, praise kink, degradation kink, mommy kink, spanking, use of strap, fingering, jealousy,cliffhanger, moms friend, etc.

The bell rang announcing the end of another boring school day. As students rushed out of their class rooms and into the hallway to exit the building you could feel the relief of not having to worry about anymore crazy assignments and the urge towards wanting to punch people’s children because they weren’t pulling their weight in group projects creeping in. You walked quickly towards your locker to empty your book bag, you had plans for tonight and you didn’t want anything holding you back.

“ hey girl, you’re coming to the new club downtown tonight right?” You may have turned around too quickly because you swore you just gave yourself a huge whiplash, but no way on gods green earth was the ‘Rebecca o’olva’ talking to you right now. She was like the Beyoncé of the school and in her world you had to look a certain way in order for her to even acknowledge your entire existence. But anyways there she stood looking gorgeous as always, short dark blue denim shirt with a cute star hemming style, a fuzzy cropped zipper sweater and of course her minions standing behind her like she was their military patrol officer.

Becca was cool. you weren’t allowed to call her that aloud, her group would probably punch the shit out of you if you tried to get too friendly. She wasn’t mean though, just a ‘shy trying to maintain good grades because I come from a uptight family full of assholes that are rich self maker’s who would burn the world to crisps if I didn’t become a millionaire too kinda girl’.Though sometimes she didn’t mind lavishing herself in the wealth and acting like a spoiled brat.

“ oh— uh—I hi?” You said awkwardly, her crystal blue eyes tore you apart as she stood there grinning at you. Her friends giggled but immediately stopped when she turned to flash them look with a not so kind face. Rebecca took a small step closer to you and smirked.

“ you must be y/n. You know me already but anyways there’s a new club that’s opening tonight and everyone’s going” yeah no shit cause your inviting them, but by all needs carry on. “ and I wanted to know if you’re interested in tagging along because I’m one of the host” she finally said with a victory smile as if she won the lottery, well she kinda already did. Well… her family did.

You stood there as stiff as stage four rigga morris. You blinked a few times maybe trying to analyze maybe if you had zoned out or maybe was daydreaming and needed to come back to reality but she was still there with that goddamn hideous creepy Halloween coded smile on her face. And her friends sharp eyes weren’t helping your nerves to cool down . And then you decided to do something even more stupid and life threatening.

“ sorry but I don’t drink alcohol and I already had plans for the weekend with my friends so with all due respect Beyoncé I think I’ll p—“ before you could finish your sentence her four friends corner you and push you back hard against the cold metal of your locker. You winced and tried to seem as tough as possible by standing back up but a Barbie looking one with wet lashes and overlapping Matted lipstick pulled you closer to her by your collar.

“ listen here doormat, she’s kind but we’re not so you better take up the offer” she whispered eerily.

“ and we better see you there” another muttered. You involuntarily nodded and in a sharp instant she released you. Rebecca was still fucking smiling at you but then they all took off laughing. These crazy fucking bitches. You proceeded to quickly empty your bag, deciding to just leave the entire bag in the damn locker since you didn’t have any homework to worry about and school doesn’t reopen til Tuesday so you had time to come back for something just in case . Walking briskly out of the empty halls you waved goodbye to the elderly janitor Mrs. Hanson on your way out.

You sighed as you felt the cool air pressed across your skin and the warm afternoon sun as it escalated down your face and body areas. All the busses were long gone, with the last one pulling out of the drive and taking off into the distance. You sighed again but this time one of stress and agony. You looked around the parking lot and suddenly your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide. Standing not far out was your mom’s best friend. Not the weird old ugly ones that asked you weird questions, hot and steamy mommy coded Marilyn thornhill.

Marilyn always thought you were a rude rebellious teenager when you were younger but it was just you trying to hide your feelings from her. And soon eventually she caught on. There were times in the past when she would tease you, get under your skin. Push you past your comfort zone in more ways imaginable. And you loved it, you neeeded it, you craved it like a drug. You two had a little fling, she was your first and then she just left town and you never say her in the light of day again. So seeing her here now was like seeing a past lover, like the crazy teary scenes in the movies.

Except your heart was going 100mph and your private region suddenly grew a heart beat making you swallow thickly. And you could feel the saliva go all the way down there and soon enough you were becoming insatiably wet.

“ come here baby” you heard her say, leaning against the hood of her car with her legs crossed she took an inhale of her cigarette before it got lost under her boot on the ground. You felt a familiar shiver that only she made you feel. You knew how these interactions ended but your feet betrayed you and you started taking slow strides towards her. And the closer you got the more the temptation of what could happen, what has happened seemed soul demanding.

When walked closer to her you made sure to maintain a perfect gap space in case you needed to run away from her. Far away from her destruction that you so desperately craved. But sensing your hesitation Marilyn smirked and chuckled softly under her breath and in one swift motion captured her lips with yours by using your tie to pull you closer towards her. Your lips fought against each other in a slow passionate fight at first, just feeling each other closer then Marilyn became hungry. She bit down on your lips which caused you to moan as she used the opportunity to push her tongue pass your lips gate.

She wrapped the tie around her hand more tightly pulling you onto her even more. Being so flush against her again did things to you. You felt hot and desperate. Her body heat, her perfume a mix of lavender and something dark and citrus like. Something dangerous, like her. Your nipples slowly awakened themselves to the new found intimacy and a desire that raged war in you. Marilyn’s tongue fought against yours in a war of dominance and obviously she won leading you to just submitting to her, as your chest flattened and your body went limp against hers.

Marilyn smiled against your lips before she pulled away, wiping away any salvia trails that may have connected both your lips like a bridge. She looked down at you and you squirmed under her gaze. She chuckled and gave you a quick peck on your forehead.

“ well hello to you too, my love” she whispered against your lips before they connected with yours again and you had to push her off you before her thoughts got the better of her and she couldn’t control herself.

“ stop it Mari, there’s still staff members here.” You told her and she straightened up, fixing her posture. She looked at you with those ‘ I don’t give two fucks eyes I literally fucked you in your mom’s bedroom when she was cooking’ eyes but she stopped because she respected your boundaries and your body.

“ nice car” you finally said after fixing your clothes and putting a few inches between the both of you so pass byers wouldn’t have rumors to spread.

“ thanks it’s s yours” she said looking at the car then back at you, you laughed for a moment shaking your head at her joke before you realized that she wasn’t joking. Your eyes widen and you felt your feet betray you once more because all of a sudden you start jumping like a like kid who just got told that they were officially going to see Santa. You wrapped your arms around her neck and began kissing her all over her face, the older woman chuckled at your childish behavior and wrapped her arms around your waist pulling your closer.

“ but I can’t even drive yet” she must have saw the disappointment in your eyes because she squeezed your sides tighter forcing you to look at her.

“ I’ll teach you darling, maybe we can even test it out to see if it’s fuckable in” she said whispering the last part, you rolled your eyes and swatted her chest.

“ your hopeless you know that” she chuckled and lead you to the car, not just any car by the way a BMW M8 competition. You loved having a hot milf mommy that’s smoking rich.

——————————-

“ fucking damn it y/n what’s so hard in just putting your goddamn foot on the pedal” Marilyn was starting to piss you off, she had taken you out on some abandoned racing track in the middle of nowhere to practice you on driving and yelled at you every fucking time you messed up. You rolled your eyes and sighed. You looked over at her who was staring daggers at you as her breathing elaborated more and more each time she inhaled. It was like she was the big bad wolf in the three little pigs story.

“ are you fucking stupid or deaf? Put your fucking foot on the pedal!” She shouted more sternly this time, her tone taking no softness. She was angry but so the fuck were you.

“ you know what Marilyn fuck you , how about you take your car and shove it up your ass if you’d like” you opened the door and got out slamming the door after. You heard her grunt as she got out too but you didn’t pay much attention to her as you made your way around the car. You didn’t even know where you were going, there’s no where to go. You were in the middle of no where and she was your only was back to civilization. Before you could process it all you felt a firm grip in your hair as your body got slammed onto the cold surface of the car trunk.

You groaned in slight pain as you turned your head to the side to stare at the culprit. Marilyn’s grip remained in your hair and her other non occupied hand bunched up your platted skirt around your hips and in one swift motion pulled down your panties til they fell around your ankles. You couldn’t lie, something about being in the middle of nowhere all alone with Marilyn made your insides churn and your pussy pulse. Flash backs of you riding her cock at your friends party in her bedroom closet to sucking her off at a birthday party, to her pounding into your pussy out in a dressing room and yes of course the first time she made you cum on your moms bed when she was cooking.

All the memories came back. And this would fit perfectly to the list. You were already completely soaking, probably dripping just for her.

“ you fucking whore, all mommy wanted to do was surprise her baby and teach her how to drive but now mommy got put someone in their place” she whispered against the skin of your neck, her hot breath making you tremble under her hold. She yanked your hair making you prop yourself up onto your elbow. Her hand rested onto your lower back carefully arching your back for you and you complied. Marilyn stared at your ass cheeks for a moment, your round curvy ass bent back, all for her. She couldn’t help but bring her hand to the flesh fumbling with it before a hard swat came down causing you to cry out at the unexpectedness.

She felt you shiver against her and did it again. You whimpered and tried to lay down to give yourself some comfort but she held you up. Tears pricked at your eyes and the wind blowing in your face made it worst.

“ god i missed you baby” she muttered under her breath mostly to herself but you heard and it only turned you on more. She spanked your ass again and the pain slowly started mixing with the pleasure allowing a moan to coarse through your throat and out of your mouth. Marilyn smirked to herself and did it again this time for harshly, making the sore and redden flesh jiggle. You let out a more choked moan this time and she chuckled darkly.

“ yeah moan just like that for mommy” she let lose of your hair and grabbed the underneath of your neck forcing your head backwards to look at her. “ I wanna hear you fucking scream while I milk that pussy like the olden days” she used her forearm to push you against the hood of the car.

“ suck” she spat roughly as she shoved two fingers into your mouth, you gave her digits a few sucks seductively taking your time to draw out slow swirls across her knuckles before she pulled them from your mouth. She thrusted three digits into you in one swift motion causing your eyes to roll back completely. A grutal moan escaped from your mouth and it was a good thing that you both were in a secluded place or maybe the both of you would have been on the news…..

Marilyn’s pace was detrimental. She kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear as her fingers rutted deep inside of you with no mercy. Your nails scratched the hood of the car as a familiar pressure from deep within your stomach started to come back.

“ there she is, i can feel you clenching baby girl, go ahead and let go for mommy” she whispered against your ear, she placed a soft lingering kiss behind your earlobe, your back arched when you felt her cross curl her fingers deep within you as she increased her pace. It was only a matter of time before you came on her fingers with a loud cry. Marilyn smirked to herself and slid her fingers out of you. She gently licked the juices off her fingers while she watched you squirm before the wave of your orgasm. Your breathing was shallow and rigid as you tried to keep it under control and brace yourself for whatever was to come next.

You could hear Marilyn unbuttoning her pants, looking over your shoulder you see her slide her pants down to her ankles before her gaze met yours. What really caught your eye’s attention what the huge purple strap that was attached to her waist ready to absolutely destroy you to pieces. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at the strap and then back up at her, she had the most devilish grin imaginable and you knew her intentions. Marilyn wasted no time as she spread your legs apart, placing one of them up on the car’s bumper giving herself a better access to your cunt. You heard her spit on the strap before quickly dragging her hand up and down her length.

She wasted no time and inserted her cock into you. Your head fell against the car and your back arched. Marilyn held the flesh under your thigh as her hips bottomed out inside you. You felt so full of her. Her cock was pressing against the spongy spot inside you and it felt so fucking good. You missed her and her dick so bad you wished she had a real one. Marilyn withdrew her hips slowly as she watched in awe as your juices coated her length. She grabbed a fist full of your hair pulling you back against her chest as she slowly began thrusting.

“ oh god please—“ your sentence was cut of by a soft moan that was quickly followed by a whimper as Marilyn increased her pace.

“ you stubborn girl, can’t follow simple driving instructions but you sure can take dick” she spat with a small chuckle causing you to whine. Her praises and dirty talk will soon have you spurting to the edge and you didn’t wanna be seen as a slut. But you wouldn’t just be anyone’s slut. You’ll be her slut. And right now, with her cock buried deep within you and her tight grip in your hair you didn’t mind at all. Marilyn released her hold on your hair and used her hands to toy with your nipples. You cursed out a shallow moan and cried. Marilyn laughed mockingly and twisted your nipples between her fingers.

She looked down at where your cunt and her cock was connected and bit her hips before she too released a soft moan of her own.

“ fucking pussy so good” she whispered under her breath. She watched as your pussy pulsed and creamed on her length, sucking in a breath she grabbed your hair again.

“ you gonna fucking cum again? Mhmh? Fucking whore mommy treats this pussy too nice huh?” She tutted as her hips found a new speed now pounding your guts fast and deep, she curved her hips in an angle that made her tip bend against that sweet point deep within you. Watching as your eyes roll back and your legs tremble she spanks your ass cheek and runs her hand down your spine before slipping it around infront to play with your small bud.

“ fuck I—OH GOD MARILYN PLEASE—“ you croaked out, panting you reached your hand around and gently placed it on her abdomen in attempt to slow her hips but she was unstoppable. Your body fell limp against the car as you laid there and took her dick with grace.

“ fuck yes, take it baby, fucking take my cock, your gonna look at me and cum on my dick, fucking look at me” she said firmly going even deeper as her hips rocked faster within you. The sound of her cock moving in and out of you and your moans, the way she was speaking to you and her hands roaming your body and playing with you clit at some point it all became too much and you obeyed her. Turning your head to the side your gaze met hers in a pleading attempt to which it fell on deaf ears. Her pace was brutal and her thrusts were snapping sharp.

“Mary—I can’t—fuck I” she knew what you wanted to say, and she felt it. She leaned down and connected her lips with yours as you neared your edge. In one swift motion she deepened the arch in your back which allowed her strap to be driven even deeper into your cunt and that was it. Your body spammed as your cunt clenched down hard on her cock. You felt your juices release on her cock as you shuttered. You were completely out of breath and tired. But god did you wanna go again. You forgot just how good Marilyn has made you fell, can make you feel. And man did you love it. You turned around and sat up properly on the cars trunk and looked at her.

Her eyebrows quirked and she smirked at you. She kissed you softly but soon it transformed into something rough and passionate. She gently pushed you down back against the trunk and opened your legs to where disaster just occurred, to the mess she just caused you to make.

“ I wanna taste you now…..”

[munsonthings86]

hello, can I request a Steve Harrington fic where r working too hard for school and has been pulling all nighters frequently to keep track. R ends up being too tired and falling a little sick and not leaving the house except for when she has to go to school and her friends notice, Steve notices. Steve comes over, tries to help her and something along those lines. You can write it however you want, you can change it up if you want. Thank you :)

thank you for the request! tweaked it just a tiny bit, hope you enjoy :)

contains: cursing, fluff, overworked reader, soft!steve harrington, forgotten date, 1.0k words

School. Study. "Sleep". It was an endless, mind-numbing cycle that you were convinced was spiraling you into borderline madness. The condition of your bedroom was identical to how your brain had been feeling for the past week: cluttered and chaotic. With empty coffee cups littering your small floral desk, and your blush duvet covering more of the carpeted floor than your actual bed, you could hardly even recognize the room anymore.

The dirty laundry strewn across your floor would often trip you when you walked, but the assignments that you were practically drowning in made it impossible to shift your focus onto tidying the place.

You'd become a hermit; only leaving the comfort of your home to go to school and occasionally, the library, on the days that your room felt like more of a prison than a place of rest. Robin and Nancy, along with your boyfriend Steve, were certain you were avoiding them like the plague. They'd beg you to hangout with them, even bribing you by offering to treat you to lunch at the local diner, but the only thing you could say in return was a dry, "maybe later".

You didn't mean to be cold to them, but you were laser-focused on your agenda, determined to work first and play later. It's what led you to where you were now: head buried in your third textbook of the night, butt aching from being sat on your wooden chair for far too long.

On a Friday night of all.

From your window, you heard people, around your age you assumed, parading the streets and laughing loudly– enjoying their simple, young lives. Something you wished you could be doing too. But your work wasn't going to do itself.

You were color-coding the notes on your flashcard when three knocks sounded at your door, to which you mumbled a soft, "Come in," that even you barely heard. Your mother walked in, a mess of flour and an assortment of seasonings splotched on her apron from cooking dinner. "Honey, Steve's here," she smiled softly, though it was evident on her face that she was biting back the urge to tell you to clean your room, bless her.

The yellow highlighter you had was soon forgotten as your eyebrows furrowed, wondering what Steve was doing here. He usually called first.

Steve gave her a sweet grin when he passed her, leaving the door slightly cracked open, per your mothers request. In his hands he held a large box of pizza and a bouquet of pink roses; looking as dashing as ever with a crewneck and blue jeans adorning his body, with his hair being the perfect kind of messy.

You can't help but smile when you see him.

"Well, this is a rare sighting," he laughed, referring to you, "Should probably get this on camera." He kicked his white sneakers off where your own shoes were piled at, setting the pizza box down on your dresser.

"Very funny," you deadpanned, arms crossed on top of your chest. "What're you doing here?"

Steve approached you, something like a frown weighing on his lips. He taps the bouquet against his chest a couple times when he gently reminds you, "It's Friday."

You almost want to reach into your own body to catch your heart when you feel it completely sink. Friday's were you and Steve's designated date nights, never missing one since the two of you began dating a couple months ago. With the way you'd been so stressed and busy lately, it had completely slipped your mind. Suddenly, you felt incredibly guilty.

"Fuck," your head fell into your hands as you rubbed at your tired eyes, harshly. Your words were muffled when you continued, "I'm sorry, I'm the worst."

Steve shook his head almost instantly, gently resting the flowers down on the desk next to you. "Hey, c'mon," he started, moving your hands from your face, standing you up in front of him. "It's okay, I know you've been busy lately."

He rubbed at your shoulders tenderly and the warm touch melted you. It was the first time you truly relaxed that whole week. "You're not mad?" You asked the question in a hushed tone, looking up at him with glittering eyes that were a bit red, your nose a similar hue. You must've been getting sick. His poor baby.

"Not even a little," he gazed at you with heated, sincere brown eyes and you couldn't will yourself to look at anything else. He kissed your forehead, and it's a bit salty with sweat, but he doesn't mind. "Just worried, is all," he murmured, adjusting the pendant on your necklace that had somehow found its way onto your back.

"Can I help at all?" He nodded at the books on your table.

"Steve, no offense but it's AP Calc," you smiled, lightly scratching at his scalp when your arms found their way around his neck. You laughed when his eyebrows raised as if he was startled, slightly shaking his head. "Christ," he says through clenched teeth, though he doubles down on his offer, "well, then I guess I'm learning AP Calc today. No biggie," he shrugs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"You don't have to do that, Stevie," you spoke against his lips, admiring how unbelievably sweet your boyfriend was. You knew how much he hated school, especially math, so you were more than grateful that he was willing to put himself through quite literal torture, just to make your night a bit easier. "But I want to," he kissed your nose. "Dinner first though, 'cause I know you skipped out on lunch."

Squinting your eyes, you released your hold on him. Sometimes it scared you how well he knew you. "How-?"

"I have eyes everywhere, love," he answered your question before you could even get it out. You rolled your eyes, a smile playing at your lips, already knowing that his "eyes" in question were just Robin and Nancy looking out for you.

💌 1 new message from jojo: writing this while procrastinating on like ten assignments was so funny lol. comments and reblogs are always appreciated! inbox is open!

[unmooredonasundayevening]

r/AmItheAsshole posts are just like:

AITA for ruining my friend's wedding?

A few months ago, I (26F) received an invitation to my friend's (27F) wedding. The invite said they wanted "to have their elegant dream wedding on a budget", and there was no date or venue listed because they were asking each guest to chip in at least $200 for them to book a venue. I didn't contribute, thinking I'd be uninvited as a result, but imagine my surprise when I got a real invitation with an actual time and place. But there was a note inside saying that since I hadn't contributed to the venue, I would have a job at the wedding: helping to cater. For free. There was a QR code with instructions and out of morbid curiosity, I checked it. There were several complicated recipes I'd be expected to prepare for over 100 people. I called some other old friends to see if they were also dealing with this insanity and the answer was a resounding "yes". Even the people who had contributed towards the venue were being given "jobs" to do. Some were expected to serve hors d'oeuvres. One was being asked to make the bridal gown. All this for free. So we all decided "fuck that", said we weren't coming, and sent our regrets. The bride, in return, sent us each a video recording of herself crying. She later posted another video on social media of herself tearing up a giant, floral heart with the caption "How I feel inside after my closest friends betrayed me by refusing to make my dream wedding a reality." She tagged all of us. It got tons of comments talking about how awful we were, and we even got private messages from her family saying we had "abandoned" her and that we all needed to "grow up" and do the jobs she'd assigned us. AITA?

[ellaa-writes]

Henlo!! I just saw ur doctor/medic reader story and i feel like they would all want to hear the absolute crazy cases and gossip from reader

Im a student and i work in a large hospital/shadowing some doctors aswell and someday’s these crazy things happen randomly. In the least expected ways. From getting a sudden code stroke to seeing 🪱🪱on body parts to hospital staffs gossips in the med room. Its so random sometimes.

Imagine doctor reader casually telling the time she caught so and so cheating in an empty room in between 2 codes. And shes so chill about it like shes seen and heard enough but the Kortac officers r eating it up like listening to Nurse John’s podcasts😂

Reader: yk this reminds me of the time i did my trauma rotation in—

Konig: wait! Let me get my snacks and tea👀☕️

Hello!! Thank you <3 This is so silly I love it. Decided to have fun with it. It's kinda gross but hey that's what happens. Lol.

It's going to be a rough day, you thought. Not even 2 hours into your shift you had two concussed idiots sitting in your waiting room. This is gonna be a long one, you started at noon and won't be done till 4am the next morning.

Clutching your coffee you prayed for a miracle, an alien ship or a metor. Either one would do.

Later that evening, specifically dinner time. You were the last to arrive, having to help hold down a patient as another medic stitched up a gash on his forehead.

"I know, I know." you said as you sat you lunch down in front of your chair. Running off to grab a much needed coffee. It was your turn for the over night shift. It wasn't a bad shift, just babysitting the wounded soldiers that are currently being held. Coming back and setting yourself into your spot, digging into your food without a cause to the wind.

"You guys won't believe my day." you started off, slurping down your heart spaghetti. "Some rookies decided to play chicken and now they both have a concussion. And one probably memory loss. Couldn't even tell me his name." you shook your head, recalling the incident. "Than Hutch came in, complaining that he can feel worms crawling in him. I had to explain four times to that dense mother fucker that worms can not survive stomach acid." you stopped to take a big gulp of coffee. "But he wouldn't listen, said it wasn't in his stomach but inside his skin. Ran some blood tests and no hallucinogenic. But he could have fooled me." you didn't realise you were blabbing until you looked up from your plate to see a few of your team members surpressing their laughs.

"What?" you asked, mouth full of spaghetti. "Why don't you chew a bit more." one of them offered. Making the other laugh, "Oh fuck off." you spat. "Anyways, had to give Hutch an xray just to prove there's no damn worms in him." you explained.

"An xray? Does that-" you cut them off. "No, not at all. But it shut him up." they all bursted out laughing. "It reminds me of a patient I had back at the ER. Complaining about his ass itching. The other nurses weren't taking him seriously. Just sent him to the bathroom with some baby wipes." you stopped abruptly, this might not be a good dinner story.

"Oh come on Katze, don't get all shy on us now." König said, you didn't even notice he was there. You also didn't notice the rest of the mess hall getting quiet to listen to your story.

"Oh, well we're eating." you tried to explain but was met with loud booing. "Fine, fine." you yelled back. Wiping your mouth, your food finished, you pushed the tray away from you.

"Ok, so they sent him to the bathroom and he came back later saying he can still feel them."

"Them?" Horangi interrupted, and was followed by shushing. "Damn, sorry. Continue." he slinked back into his chair.

" So they put him in a room, told him to strip from the waist down. Another trainee and myself were assigned to this case along with a RN. She had him lay on the side has she spread his ass cheeks. Like you would a child." you stopped from dramatic affect. Watching as your tream and the rest of mess hall looked on in anticipation.

"We saw nothing. So she took a swab, had me spread this grown man's cheeks as she inserted it into the recum, shoveling out what ever was in side. Still nothing." a few people got up and left and others choking back a gag.

"She wet had him pop a squat over the trash can and cough. Sure enough a worm came shooting out. So did some green chunks, thankfully they were just some cucumbers. Guess the guy stole a cucumber from his neighbors garden not knowing it was infested with worms. He shoved the thing right up and it broke. He was like that for 2 weeks, worms up the ass. Still not the craziest thing I experienced, let me tell your that." you reached for your tray, but König took it for your instead.

"A cucumber up the ass?" Horangi asked. "I've seen people shove all sorts of thing up their butt. Idk what it is or why but it's way to common." you threw your finished coffee cup in the trash.

"Sorry I gotta get back. The results for mister chicken should be in by now." you said you goodbyes and waved to others, rushing out of the lunch hall.

"What a women." König said, hearts in his eyes.

[gvtted-ratz]

read all our tags/ratings. they r important n give u all u need 2 decide if u wanna actually read or not. do not like the tags/rating? do not read.

FEM ALIGNING/IDENTIFYING PPL (unless mutuals/friends) DNI WITH OUR MLM WORKS. fem ppl can still request tho. respect our wishes or get blocked. yes we do read/check everything. we tag appropriately/use tags that go with our posts.

want 2 request? find the rules: here!

want 2 see all the fics? find em: here!

Soft To The Core

König x M!Reader

Last Edited: 03/01/23

TW: death mentioned

AO3 LINK -> HERE

anon: 4 with König and he/him male reader. That is all <- frothing at the mouth but being SO COOL about it (4. accidental touching!!!!)

Word Count: 767

Notes: hey again bestie… i see u. i have our dms about the man n u frothing btw. Also. ik absolutely nothing about guns n stuff so uh. oop ig… also. i made the reader like. kinda techy n speak some russian? i was listening 2 gore by graveyardguy as i wrote this just so u know. Didn’t influence much of the thing but the title is definitely from the song.

You hum as you clean your sniper rifle; the disassembled piece of metal all over your lap. Usually, you would be around a table or even in your own assigned room. However, today they had a mandatory room check. While you didn’t mind it, having all the tables and sitting areas taken out in the cafeteria as well as the shooting range didn’t help. This leads to you sitting underneath a small pine. It’s fairly young, being only large enough to cast enough of a shadow to give you cover from the sun.

While you don’t mind cleaning your gun, making sure your laptop was in better shape or needed to be put back together was more interesting. While you’ve done it a hundred times before, for you, it never got old. You enjoyed taking apart the electronic gadgets and putting them back together. Seeing how they work and even improving them intrigued you more than going out on the field and sending bullets people’s way to splatter their blood everywhere. The missions they assign you in KorTac have been nothing but boring or a pain. You’ve never actually trained for this part or even with the rifle at all. You are more of someone who hacks cameras, reads coding to try and find anything that could give enemies away, and even disarm some bombs via the tech you have on hand during said times.

Now, while it’s not something you prefer doing, you can’t help but enjoy at least one of your members. König, or King as many call him, is your favourite man. Despite his awkward social interactions, he’s never been particularly rude to you. Nor has the giant Austrian ever tried to get on your nerves. He keeps to himself mostly, leading to you having to seek him out if you want company. Sometimes he’s out and about, though he’s either alone or towering over the other soldiers.

Of course, that doesn't mean he’s not deadly. You’ve seen him out on the field. He’s truly a rampaging beast. He picks up enemy soldiers and cracks their backs over his knee. He’ll gun them down or snipe them, giving a laugh or giggle. He’ll yell out in a happy tone “I have some cash!” whenever he gets his hands on even a single coin. He’s wilder and more brutal. And you couldn’t help but notice. However, despite noticing it, you didn’t treat the man any differently.

A large pair of military-issued boots appear in front of your crisscrossed legs. Looking up, you see the man you’ve been thinking of as you cleaned the barrel of your gun. “Ah. König,” You say, giving him a small smile. “Привет! How has my favourite man been?” König’s hands are loosely holding each other, nearly touching his stomach with his chosen position.

“Ah… Ich meine, es lief gut…” He says, looking uncomfortable standing there. You gesture to the ground next to you, letting him know that he can sit beside you. With confirmation now obtained, König lets himself fall into a seated position right next to you. He ends up knocking his knee into your thigh; you wince at the sharp pain but laugh it off.

“I’m so sorry..! I did not mean to hit you. Bitte vergib mir!” The large man starts to apologize immediately, already beating himself up over the accidental touch. You wave him off, trying to make your smile softer to try and reassure the Austrian.

“ нет, нет! Все хорошо, ты в порядке!” Your words seem to calm him down a bit, despite him not exactly understanding your words. “Besides, König, I say you’re sharp as a knife but Soft To The Core.” You’re not sure why, but the words felt right to say.

“Ja? Well… They do say beauty is on the inside, Freund,” He tells you; a nearly inaudible chuckle escapes him. You feel another smile pull at your lips at his words.

“They sure do, мой возлюбленный. They sure do.” You mumble. With some silence between the two of you, it’s easy to hear the shout of one of your captains letting you all know that the mandatory room clearance has been finished. You playfully smack König’s shoulder, clasping it as you stand. “Let’s go back, да?” When he gives you a nod, you shove your gun parts into the duffle bag you brought just for it. “Let’s go then! Maybe we can grab some food once these bozos clear out.” With those last words, you take the lead, König following behind you quietly and with genuine happiness shining in his eyes.

[i-smell-sass]

A Sweet Treat (Called Tangerine) PT1

A/N: Reader is meant to be trans, but it doesn't get mentioned so could be read as cis too

also i fucking love tangerine. i HC them using code names that start with each other’s initials, like tangerine’s name being Lucille and lemon’s name being Theo

Pairing/Relationships: Tangerine x Male Reader (R), Lemon x Male reader (P), Ladybug x Male reader (P)

R: romantic, P: platonic

Summary: Male reader is assigned to help Ladybug with the Snatch and Grab on the bullet train to Tokyo, on which he meets a handsome and charismatic assassin duo with fruity code names.

Requested: Yes/No

Warning(s): Basically all of what happens in the movie. Blood/Violence.

Genre: Fluff with a little angst

Pronouns used for Y/N: He/him

Code name: Weasel

Weasel sighed as he walked, checking his phone in frustration. He’d lost track of where Ladybug was, and was walking aimlessly down the Train car walkway in hopes of seeing Ladybug. Due to him looking down at his phone, he hadn’t noticed Tangerine standing up from his seat, causing him to bump into the man. ”Fuckin’ Hell, man. Can you watch where you’re goin’?” The man’s British accent was heavy with frustration, Mustache curling down in dissatisfaction.

“Oh, shit, sorry man. I wasn’t looking.” Weasel muttered, face at chest height. His eyes slowly traveled up, settling on Tangerine’s face. His breath hitched and caught in his throat as his eyes settled on Tangerine’s deep blue ones. “Really, it was an accident. I apologize, Sir.” He hoped his voice hadn't stuttered. Was it getting hot in here or was he imagining things?

Tangerine raised a brow at the ‘sir’, giving the other man a once-over before shrugging “’S alright, love. Just pay attention next time, yeah?” the taller man pursed his lips, gently moving weasel out of the way by a hand on his shoulder. It was large, and warm, making him shiver softly. He closed his eyes as he got a whiff of Tangerine’s cologne. It was earthy, musky and calming. The nickname 'love', although said casually, made his stomach flutter.

Straightening his jacket out before shaking his head, Weasel watched Lemon get up and give him a knowing look. He rolled his eyes and went back to finding Ladybug, focusing on the mission, though there was always a thought in the back of his mind.

Who were they? why were they dressed so well on a train?

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

He’d later found Ladybug in the 1st class lounge, shoving glass shards with his jacket into a trash can “What the fuck are you doing?” his brows furrowed as he saw the blonde crouched on the floor, shoving the glass shards into the trash along with his trench-coat. “Oh, Hi! i’m just.. um.” the blonde’s eyes nervously flicked over to The Wolf’s corpse sitting on a lounge chair before going back to weasel.

“..it was an accident?”

“Oh my god. What did you do?” Weasel asked, his brows furrowed. He glanced over at The Wolf, his eyes narrowing as he approached the lifeless body haphazardly covered with a blanket to make it look like he was sleeping. He pressed to fingers against the pulse point. “You killed him. Seriously?! Already?” His voice was a hushed whisper, his hands coming out in a frustrated flail.

“Look, i didn't mean to.” Ladybug defended weakly holding a finger up before pulling his bucket hat onto his head after brushing it off. “Accident my ass. How do you ‘accidentally’ kill someone?” Weasel asked, raising a skeptical brow as he put both his hands on his hips. “It just.. Kinda happened.” Ladybug muttered, shrugging.

Weasel rolled his eyes with a sigh, helping Ladybug fix his appearance. “You got the briefcase?” He looked at Ladybug with an unimpressed look. “Yeah, Stashed it in the Trash can.” Ladybug replied, fixing his glasses and hissing at a cut on the bridge of his nose he'd accidentally bumped.

Weasel stopped in his tracks, staring blankly at Ladybug. “Trash can? Really? That’s what you went with?” Ladybug shrugged with a small nod “Yeah. Why?” Weasel shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re a lost cause.” “You know, that really hurts my feelings” Ladybug complained. “Oh, shut up.” Weasel muttered, giving a playful shove to Ladybug’s shoulder.

Weasel sighed as he got up, shaking his jacket out to get rid of the glass shards in it. “You’re an idiot, Ladybug.” He huffed, fixing his hair as he looked back at Ladybug who was fixing himself up as well. Both were slightly bruised and bloody after fighting the tangerine.

“Simple snatch and grab my ass. I’m never covering for carver again.” He grumbled as he pulled his gun out, switching the empty magazine for a full one. “Yeah, me neither.” Ladybug muttered, walking behind Weasel. “I never liked him anyway. Too egotistical.” He added, and weasel gave an acknowledging hum.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Weasel walked through the now empty train cars with Ladybug in tow, a determined stride in his step as he looked around at all the empty seats, brows furrowed. “Why are all the seats empty?” his voice was a hushed whisper. He had grabbed Lemon’s gun from where ladybug had hidden it behind the suitcases and put it back together, now one gun in his hand and the other stuffed into the back of his pants. Ladybug still refused to use a gun, which Weasel found plain stupid, but it was his death wish. Still, he kept the gun with him just in case.

Ladybug pushed in front of Weasel, walking into the Momonga train car. The Prince yelled for help as Tangerine had his gun pointed at her, and of course, Ladybug, as heroic and obnoxious as he is, jumped in to try to wrestle the gun out of Tangerine’s grip.

Weasel immediately moved to grab the gun too, pulling Ladybug away from Tangerine, or at least trying to. “LET GO YOU IDIOT!” Weasel yelled, kicking Ladybug’s shin to distract him. In that moment they all stumbled backward and the gun fired. Ladybug and Weasel fell backward while Tangerine stumbled against the wall behind him. “FUCK! YOU FUCKING BELLEND!” he yelled, grabbing his neck.

Weasel looked to Ladybug, noticing he hadn’t been shot. He quickly pushed Ladybug out of his way, coming to kneel down next to Tangerine who was pressing his hand to his neck. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! SHE’S THE FUCKIN’ DIESEL!” Tangerine yelled angrily, a hand clutched over a now bloody part of his shirt in the crook of his neck.

The prince shook her head, crying and muttering “No, No! I-i don’t even know what a diesel is! Please, you've got to believe me!” she begged while tears ran down her cheeks, but Weasel pointed his gun at her, cocking the hammer as he glared at her. “Shut the fuck up before i put a bullet between your eyes!” He threatened, one hand clutched over tangerine's where he got shot. She yelped in surprise, turning and running further down the train.

”Go deal with her!” Weasel demanded, gesturing with the gun toward where she ran off and Ladybug ran after her. He sighed, kneeling next to Tangerine. “You’re okay. Just your shoulder, nothing serious.” He comforted soothingly, and Tangerine grunted, eyes squeezed shut in pain. “Thanks. Very reassuring.” came a sarcastic mumble. Weasel rolled his eyes giving him an annoyed look. “Do you want me to help or not?” Tangerine just grunted in reply. Weasel leaned over to grab the first aid kit off the wall. “who even are you anyway?” Tangerine asked, raising a brow up at the other man.

”I work with ladybug. The name's Weasel.” He ripped open the first aid kit, gently pulling Tangerine’s hand off the wound, who protested at first, "I'd say nice to meet you, but, you know..” he trailed off, sighing “why are you helpin’ me? We're rivals.” weasel rolled his eyes at that. “Because we're fucked anyway and if the white death is really gonna come for us i’ll take all the help i can get.” Tangerine raised a brow, sighing and letting his hand fall. “i s'pose that makes sense.” “thank you.”

Weasel worked on bandaging up the brit's wound, said brit let his hands rest in his lap, deciding on switching out the empty bullets of his revolver for new ones to keep his hands busy. Weasel unbuttoned Tangerine’s shirt carefully, glancing at the exposed bit of chest briefly before he cleaned the wound best he could, bandaging it so he wouldn’t bleed out. Luckily the bullet only strafed his neck and didn't hit any important veins. “The bullet strafed you. You’re gonna be fine.” He reassured, smiling with a squeeze to tangerine's shoulder. “you were pretty lucky, you know.” that earned another scoff from him, baby blues focusing on weasel's face. “Luck my ass. It's all thanks to you.”

“Where’s your necklace?” he asked, noticing that it was gone. “My brother.. he..“ Tangerine trailed off, averting his gaze, a sad look in them. “he got shot. So i gave ‘im my necklace. Sentimental shit, Y’know?” He muttered with a sad chuckle, wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that. That sucks.” He whispered, sighing. “Yeah. It does.” A short, bitter reply from tangerine and a sniffle followed.

“Do you want me to..?” Weasel trailed off, gesturing to tangerine's face, asking to clean the wounds there too but wasn't sure if he was comfortable with that.

Tangerine shrugged softly, looking up at Weasel with a frown that pulled his Mustache down with it. It was kind of cute, really. “name's Tangerine, by the way.” He muttered hesitantly. Weasel smiled, holding the man's chin as he cleaned the cut on his forehead.

“Tangerine? Like the fruit?” The man's frown deepened. “Yeah like the fuckin' fruit. Why does everyone ask that?” The annoyance was clear in his tone, which earned a snicker from weasel. “Not everyday someone nicknames themselves after a fruit.”

He was careful when cleaning the wounds on tangerine's face, making sure he wouldn't hurt him any more than he already was. They made brief eye contact here and there, the tension obvious. Tangerines deep blue eyes were captivating, and his lashes were so pretty, long and curled perfectly.

When he was done patching him up, he helped him up, smiling. “Fuck the briefcase. I think we should work together so we can make it out of here.” Tangerine gave a tight nod at that, squeezing Weasel’s hand. “Yeah, fuck that damn briefcase,” He mumbled with disdain in his voice.

They sat in the Momonga part of the train, drinking water, eating some granola bars they'd found and gathering all the weapons they could find.

As Shigeru and Ladybug walked through that part of the train they were in, both Tangerine and Weasel watched them in confusion as they stopped at a toilet in the way between the train carts. “Thats the one my brother is in.” Tangerine muttered, brows screwed tightly together before getting up with Haste and walking toward both of them. “Hey! Dickhead!” He exclaimed, and Weasel got up to stop Tangerine. “Wait-”

Shigeru didn’t even pay attention to them, and ladybug sighed as he saw tangerine approaching him with a pissed look on his face. “Dude, look, let's not fight right now.” He tried to reason, but tangerine stopped dead in his tracks when Lemon sat there, looking around in confusion. “Tangerine!” Lemon exclaimed happily, getting up and pushing through both men to get to his brother. Tangerine’s eyes shot open, looking up at the other. “Lemon?! You’re alive, you fuckin’ wanker?” He asked loudly, smiling as he grabbed Lemon's shoulders. “You did wear the vest!” Tangerine exclaimed, eyes watering. “And you got shot in the neck!” Lemon pointed out. Tangerine shook his head as he pulled his brother in for a hug. “Come here you fuckin’ dickhead.” he whispered, sighing into the hug. “You scared the shit outta me. I thought i’d lost ya.” He sighed, cupping his brothers cheek as he looked up at him. “Nah, You know you ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily.” Lemon replied with a bright grin of his own.

Weasel smiled at the two, holding lemon’s gun out to him. “I think this might be yours.” “My gun! Where’d you find that?” Lemon asked happily, taking it and kissing the barrel. “Oh, it’s my favorite. Missed ya, beautiful.” He muttered to the gun before looking at Weasel again. “Thank you.” “It’s no problem. See it as a peace offering” Weasel smiled, rolling his shoulders. “Offering accepted” lemon had a playful grin on his face.

“Now, we have to get ready to fuck ‘em up.” Lemon and Tangerine gave sharp nods at that, and all 6 of them prepared to kill the White Death and his goons.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Weasel slowly came to, sighing as his head pounded. He Squinted at the bright lights, the ringing in his ears slowly fading into flowing water and the crackling of electric wires. The last he remembered was fighting the white death's men, and holding onto a wall while the train cars pummeled down a hill.

He stumbled outside, head pounding as he leaned against the door frame of the train car. He could feel a warm wetness on the side of his face, and his side hurt. Everything was a mess; train cars crashed into the side of Japanese houses, messing up the street and the broken train cars laying strewn around. His eyes narrowed at the bright lights of the morning sun, and he clutched his side where he was sure he was at least bruised, if not worse.

”Where are the twins?” He asked Ladybug after the mess with the White Death happened. Ladybug shrugged. “Dunno. Haven’t seen them since they jumped out the train together.” Weasel’s eyes shot open. “They WHAT?” he exclaimed, shocked.

He groaned, holding his head as it pounded. He struggled to focus over the pain. He finally looked back up when the prince started yelling nonsense, and he rolled his eyes with a groan. “Can this bitch be any more dramatic?”

A shocked laugh escaped weasel's lips as a tangerine truck hit The Prince, killing her. His eyes shot open, looking around. As the truck stopped, Lemon jumped out, Laughing loudly. “THAT’S WHAT YOU GET! FUCKIN’ DIESEL, MAN!” He exclaimed, laughing at her corpse. Tangerine stumbled out as well, and they both were soaked to the bone, hair clinging to tangerine's forehead and shirt slightly see-through.

Weasel stared at them, smiling, his shoulders sagging in relief as he saw them alive. He threw his head back, laughs bubbling up in his throat at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

He stumbled his way through the debris - albeit very clumsily and sluggishly. He moved to stand in front of Tangerine, grinning. “Good work” he held his free hand out for a shake, and Tangerine rolled his eyes shaking it. “you guys weren't as useless as I thought.” He teased, and weasel scoffed, shoving tangerine's shoulder playfully.

“We make a good team.” Weasel smiled, taking a business card out of the back pocket of his pants, holding it out to Tangerine. “call me sometime.”

Tangerine glanced at the card, then weasel and reluctantly took it. “Yeah. Maybe i will.”

Weasel nodded, satisfied with that answer as he watched them walk off down the street.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Last edited: 19.11.24

[lavendergalactic]

Hiii may i ask how you install fonts on bundlrs? I keep trying and it won’t work, I even looked at how you did it on your template but when I try to change the font it just doesn’t work?🥺 help please

yeah course i'll start from the very beginning

step 1

first i go to dafont and find a font i like and download it

step 2

i got to my files and extract all

step 3

i head my way over to catbox and just drop the OTF or TTF file into the box

step 4

ok now it's coding time, make sure you've got your code inbetween <style> </style> or else it wont work

so what you're going to write is

@font-face{ font-family:'font name'; src:url(ur catbox url);}

step 5

to actually use this font you've got to assign it to something (go to this website if you need extra help)

if you want the font to be assigned to everything you do this

p, r { font-family:font name; }

and if you need it bigger or smaller you can add " font-size:15px; " (15 can be replaced with anything)

hope this helps

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don’t you just love it when you’ve been working on the same project for a solid two hours but not actually made any progress because excel is apparently incapable of just making a fucking bar chart and r coding may genuinely be the death of you one day and why does it keep saying the file doesn’t exist the file is open you can see the fucking file and the name is not misspelt this is the seventh time you’ve checked you know it’s spelt right but apparently it still doesn’t exist and jesus christ at this point it would be faster if you drew the goddamn graphs by hand but that wouldn’t be allowed even if it might be better quality than you can produce on this and you only have until monday to get this entire report written but you couldn’t have started it earlier because you had two other assignments and they only held the workshop on how to do this yesterday and you did five hours of independent studying on top of your lectures yesterday, some dedicated to this and some to the last of the other assignments due this week, but it’s just never fucking enough is it and all the code you wrote in the past hour was nonsense so you deleted the file and now you’re scared because what if even one single goddamn line of that was right and you can’t get it back now does it even matter yeah probably but fuck it because it’s too late now and you are just running out of things to try and you don’t know what to do because they said not to ask for help unless you had a specific question but this isn’t a specific question it’s barely questions at all anymore it’s just a scream that you don’t know how to let out your chest but you don’t even have time to stop and panic or stop and scream or stop and cry because if you stop for longer than it has already taken you to write this out - and fuck why have you stopped and started writing this shit out you don’t have time to do anything but focus - you might actually go insane with the fear of not doing it but you don’t know what to do anymore? Don’t you just love it?

[appleflavoredkitkats]

do you have any headcanons on what russell went through during his time with the utopians?

HELLO ISSY!! im in the middle of plotting my version of ivywood so i have SOME things... but not everything is fully fleshed out! here r some of them (under the cut!)

since it's sort of implied that russell's been raised there since birth/childhood, i feel like his parents only joined because they were struggling financially, which the utopians would have aided

i do think russell would have HATED the strict regulations at a young age. like obviously, he would still grow to adapt to some things (ie. desperate need to prove himself worthy, because the utopians would have deprived that of their followers) but to me, russell is just too much of a curious child. he wouldn't have kept his curiosities at bay, especially since he loved learning about more mind-boggling things like cryptic codes, linguistics, the human brain, etc. at a young age

i think this guy! would have been a very lonely child! esp since he's austistic and trans! since he's afab, i feel like his autism diagnosis would have come in late (like maybe 10 years old?) and that's the same time he would have realized he was trans. so he basically became a disappointment amongst the utopians. like parents would tell their kids that russell would be the child NOT to imitate u get me

but i feel like as much as i think russell would come out of this with insecurities, i think his pride is one of the reasons that got him out of there in the first place? and i mean, call him egotistical all you want, but the last thing russell would want to do is doubt his capabilities because that's EXACTLY what the utopians would have wanted.

in my version of ivywood, i made "once upon a crime" happen AFTER "wild wild death" because i hc that trevor neuman was responsible for russell's interest in psychology. but don't get it twisted, he doesn't rlly like the kid- rather, the higher-ups in utopia saw potential in his intelligence and wanted to profit off of that. to me, russell might have possibly made the foundations for their brainwashing mechanism, but russell himself doesn't realize that it actually works

i do think russell was genuinely close to his parents, although they don't get along all the time because the two are depressed servants of the cult. i do think russell would have had a closer bond to his mother though. i'd like to think she actually helped russell escape at 16. the only reason she didn't go with him was because she wanted to convince jupiter to go with her, but he adamantly refused out of fear.

the higher-ups definitely knew that caroline (russell's mom) assisted his escape and so they would have murdered her and framed it as an accident. when this happened, they utilized jupiter's grief to make him stay in utopia even longer.

after hearing news about his mom's death, russell would have sneakily watched the funeral from afar. that's when he received the note that says he has nowhere to hide.

i need to flesh this out even more, but i definitely think russell reached out to the pbpd after he escaped. i think it would be funny if andrea assigned frank to look after him, at least up until russell finds a secure job to move out lol. there is a reason these two are at each other's throats all the time !

to return to the utopians though, i genuinely think that the fact russell was raised in a cult fucked up his sense of identity and vulnerability, in a sense that. this mfker HATES showing his true self to anyone in fear of it being used against him. his flirty, manipulative mask is definitely just. a mask. because it's a survival skill he developed after escaping !

moreover i do think he gets impostor syndrome sometimes because as much as he's a genuinely prideful person, sometimes he thinks he feels the need to grab everyone's attention because he was so deprived of it when he was young. so sometimes he does have to grapple with that, because he HATES thinking that a part of him is still disgustingly utopian

[thecluehunt]

welcome to the clue hunt!

how does this thing work?

to join the search for the 39 clues you will need to concoct a serum that will make you(r branch) all-powerful and set for world domination. follow this blog and/or like this post to register:)

this is an online clue hunt based on tumblr inspired by the 39 clues series. you do not have to have read the series to participate, although it might be more fun if you have!

a list of 39 elements, each with an associated number to account for its quantity in the final serum, has been determined and will soon be circulated across the threads of the interwebs. the goal of this clue hunt will be to collect all of these clues for your branch!

there will be four branches the participants will be loosely divided into based on their interests (will elaborate on this in a bit). the lucians (red, the cunning branch, think codes and logic and conniving), the ekaterinas (yellow, the stem branch), the tomas (blue, the athletic branch, which in the context of this clue hunt translates to gamers/shit that requires good motor skills) and the janus (green, the artistic branch)

each participant will be given a few clues at the start of the game. you will randomly be alloted into branches UNLESS you send an ask to this blog with a preferred branch. to make sure each branch has more or less equal numbers, asking for a specific branch will mean you will be given less clues than other participants at the start of the game (i.e. there is an advantage to random branch assignment).

you will be told your final branch privately and will not be revealed the branches of any other participants.

you will be required to hide the few clues given to you across the interwebs (there won't be many clues don't worry) in internet trails, using codes, links, metaphors, required tasks you need to complete to attain the clue, etc etc. this will largely be up to you and you will be allowed to use your creative license - but you will have to send your trail to this blog to make sure it is workable and not too vague lol. i will edit/fine tune everything and if you can't think of anything i will make a trail for you

if you pick your own branch, you will be required to incorporate the core values of your branch into your trails. so for the janus this means hiding clues in art, for lucians this means codes and cryptography related things maybe, etc etc.

write your tumblr url somewhere near where you leave the clue so people know you left it there!

a map will be provided with the location of each clue around the world, colour coded. so for example, myrrh, a clue from the original series, is an ekaterina clue native to north africa. so, a yellow dot representing myrrh will be marked in this region. this can be used to find out what branches other members are in. for example, if you find out a fellow participant hid the clue myrrh, you can deduce they are from the ekaterina branch because there is a yellow dot in the region it's from. if you are also an ekat, this means you can trust them with your clues because you're on the same team:)

a certain number of clues will not be given to any participants and will be withheld as madrigal clues. these will be hidden by me:)

you can recruit members who haven't registered to help you with your hunt well into the game! however, you need to have registered at the beginning (i.e. be following this blog and like this post) to receive your own clues

any/all forms of cheating and backstabbing will be allowed (for everyone except me/the madrigals that is):D

to help with organizing if you don't want to participate, you can join the madrigals! we are a neutral team who cannot by definition win and are just having fun organizing all this lol

more details including duration, prizes, etc will be shared/updated later!

happy hunting!

tagging people who interacted with my post about this: @the39cluesian @iankabra @yakalll @angelkat-x @icamebackfromnarnia @39addict101 @manicpixiess @bilhert @mediodedios @toiletpotato @39starrygurl @gaslighting69 @nimonaaaa @dinatela @amianislovely @fandom-oracle @sarasanddollar @carpe-astrae @ghost-in-a-cup @cosmo-babe @kadalakari

[respectthepetty]

Hi RTP! What are the BLs you would recommend solely for the colors? 🌈

Anon, before I answer this great ask, I want to highlight other posts I've written that are slightly similar:

Reading the (Visual) Rainbow Awards 2023

Overall Winner - Kiseki: Dear to Me

Top Five - Color-Coded Storytelling in BLs

Honorable Mention: Oh No! Here Comes Trouble

5) Moonlight Chicken

4) My Beautiful Man

3) My Love Mix Up

2) Semantic Error

1) Big Dragon

Top Five Color Moments of 2023

Honorable Mention: 7 Days Before Valentine

5) GAP

4) Bed Friend

3) Last Twilight

2) Moonlight Chicken

1) The Eighth Sense

Bonus: Jeff Satur x SHAUN's "Steal the Show"

I don't want to repeat any of the shows I picked, and I'm trying to pick more recent ones so people can find them if they want to watch them, but per your ask, I'm recommending them based solely on colors regardless of how much I liked them.

Recommended Colorful BLs

Honorable Mention: Intern in My Heart

The show is not finished, and it's not a BL, yet it is doing everything right, which is why it gets the honorable mention. Great (Grey) is coded black/dark in the show, and Top is coded pink/light. They are supporting characters who are best friends, and they have stuck to their colors throughout, but in the last episode, they *almost* exchanged colors after Top revealed that he liked Great. Now I'm praying to all the saints for a full color exchange in the finale like I have a personal stake in this because I do! I'm invested, and it better not disappoint me.

#5 - One Room Angel

When I write "Heavenly Human" for a character who wears white, and "Black Brooder" for a character who wears black, THIS is what I mean. A story about an actual angel and a guy who wanted to die was the perfect place to use the light x dark dynamic. However, calling this show a BL is troublesome, which is why it's number five. It still is a great example of what the light x dark color scheme should be used for, and in the end, the guy who wanted to die is much lighter in mood and color, which is what the colors are all about.

#4 - Why R U? (Korea)

First and foremost, that kiss was LIT! The Thai version had Tutor and Fighter's high heat, which could never be matched, but Korea had that kiss, and it ate! But on top of that, it had colors! Ji Oh was a Black Brooder while Lee Won was a Multicolored Menace, and right after this kiss, they flipped colors. That's right! After five episodes of being enemies, they made out for acting "reasons," and then exchanged colors. Normally, Korea is all about the feelings, so the color exchanges in Korean BLs align with a character's feelings changing, but this one directly correlated with a kiss. And for emphasis - That kiss was fire!

#3 - Secret Crush on You

Destiny Seeker might have won the 2023 award for best group effort in color coding, but Secret Crush on You set the bar for that award the year before. This show is Color-Coding 101. Each character has a color, and by each, I mean each and every single damn character in a cast of eleven (plus three fairy godmothers) has their own color. That is a ridiculous feat! Wardrobe, props, and lighting deserved a raise for this show. Some shows can't even get consistent color coding when it only has two characters, but this show understood the color-coding group assignment for the entire series! I'm still applauding two years later.

#2 - Stay by My Side

Taiwanese BLs are my vice. Even the worst Taiwanese BL will still be better than the rest of these BLs. I WROTE WHAT I WROTE. So, of course, I liked this show beyond color reasons, but the colors greatly helped me enjoy the show even more. We had a guy who was haunted by ghosts. He was colorful and light coded. Then we had his roommate who could magically keep the ghosts away. He was dark coded. Read it again. The guy being haunted was bright, light, and colorful, while the guy with the power to help was dark. GENIUS! It was Mr. Unlucky Has No Choice but to Kiss with a supernatural twist. The dark coded guy is sad and isolated but the one who is being HAUNTED BY GHOSTS brings life to his world! Give me a minute. I'm still not over it.

#1 - Pit Babe

I watched this show muted and without subtitles, yet the colors guided me through all thirteen episodes. I understood the plot perfectly because of the colors, and only became confused when people tried to tell me about the actual plot. Alpha? Omega? Santa Maria? Wasn't important. Didn't matter. I don't know them. Red and Blue were the main characters here, and they did their damn job. Babe, in his black, was his own man. He wasn't trying to fit in, but every time the red light focused on Charlie and Way, I was screaming for Babe to run because the colors told me they were still tied to Tony BECAUSE THEY WERE! That's elite color coding, and it ushered in a whole new way for me to watch a show. I loved it.

Bonus: Old Fashion Cupcake

I love this show which is why it is a bonus. Unlike the other shows where I had issues with some part of the plot, Old Fashion Cupcake is as close to perfect as any show has ever come in my personal rating system. It is an Advanced Color Coding course only offered for graduate students, which, honestly, is very Japanese of it because it was in the ties. The color coding showed up in other ways, but the ties were where the story lived since in the past, Nozue was a bright red, but we saw his red damper in the present, which made his loyal assistant bluer. It was only five episodes, yet it used every second of those five episodes in every single way to propel the story forward, colors included. Actually, let me go rewatch this for the hundredth time instead of just writing about it!