#and they think the argument makes sense just because she’s had so much coming out the past few years

[ragnarokhound]

"reading under the red hood and it's pretty good i think" - jason todd fan who has only seen the cartoon adaptation of under the red hood

[sp-ud]

what a terrible time to realize your mom forgot to schedule you any more therapy appointments.

[idekwtf-is-happening]

Seeing people on Twitter trying to hate on Taylor swift is so funny like, she’s living in their heads rent free as they scramble for reasons to hate her

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[natsaffection]

heyyy so i have this idea and i think no one can write it like you so yeah.

forced marriage between Natasha and reader in the present time. they both don't like each other because of this situation yk but with time they come around each other.

i know this is a really classic one but I've been thinking about this for a long time and sending a request to you seemed like a good idea considering your beautiful writing. but of course it's okay if you don't want to write it! hope you're having a good day!!! (or night idk😭😭) 💗

I see you. | N.R

Warnings: Forced Marriage for a Mission, a lot of arguments, Drinking, mentioned of sex while beeing drunk (both)

Word count: 6,7k

A/n: I hope it makes sense. I thought for a long time about how best to implement this scenario and found this solution to be the most plausible..(The beginning takes place before the invasion of Loki)

Natasha sat stiffly, her gaze sharp and unforgiving, fixed on the man sitting across from her. Nick leaned back in his chair, his one good eye studying her with an intensity that matched her own. “So, what’s this about, Fury?” Natasha’s voice was as cold as the steel walls surrounding them in the underground briefing room of the Avengers headquarters. She had been urgently summoned, pulled out of a mission briefing that had been weeks in the making, and the weight of this interruption hung heavy in the air.

Fury exhaled slowly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the sleek metal table. The silence stretched just long enough that Natasha’s patience nearly snapped. “It’s about alliances.” he finally said, his tone measured, as if he was still deciding how much to reveal. Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we had our alliances sorted out. Stark has the tech, Banner is working on the gamma projects, and I’m ready to handle the intel with Rogers. What’s missing?”

Fury’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped together as if preparing for what he was about to say. “What’s missing is political stability. The kind that can’t be bought with technology or power. We need trust, and that’s in short supply these days.”

“Trust?” Natasha scoffed. “From whom? What aren’t you telling me?” He met her gaze, unwavering. “There’s a situation with Y/n.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly. The name struck a nerve. You were no stranger in her world. Known for your diplomatic skills and sharp intellect, you were a key figure in international negotiations, often brokering deals that kept the world from chaos. You weren’t just a diplomat, you were a force, wielding influence in ways even Natasha respected. But that didn’t explain why you were the subject of this mysterious meeting.

“And what does that have to do with us?” Natasha asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion. Fury’s next words fell like a hammer. “You’re going to marry her.” For a moment, the words didn’t register. Natasha stared at Fury, waiting for the punchline to a joke that never came. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me right, Romanoff." Fury replied, his tone unyielding. “This marriage is the only way to secure the alliance we need. Your influence can grant us access to certain..resources and information that we desperately need. This goes beyond SHIELD, it’s about global security.”

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you think a forced marriage is magically going to solve all these problems?”

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy.” Fury admitted. “But this isn’t about love or personal happiness. It’s about necessity. We need a visible, undeniable alliance, something that other nations and organizations can see and recognize as a commitment. A marriage between you and Y/L/N would achieve that.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. She was a soldier, a spy, a warrior..she had never allowed anyone to dictate the terms of her life, let alone something as personal as marriage. The very idea was repugnant to her, and yet..Fury’s expression told her this wasn’t just an idea, it was an order. The stakes were high, as they always were in her line of work, but this felt different. This felt personal in a way she hadn’t expected.

“And what makes you think she’ll agree to this?” Natasha asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. She wasn’t ready to show more emotion than necessary. “She’s already agreed.” Fury said, and Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “She understands how important this alliance is. She’s as reluctant as you are, but she knows what’s at stake.”

Natasha let that sink in for a moment. She didn’t know you well, but she knew of you, respected you even. You were someone who didn’t back down easily, who saw through lies and acted on your convictions. If you had agreed, then the situation was worse than Natasha had thought.

“And if I refuse?” she asked, though she knew the answer, but she needed to hear it. Fury’s expression hardened. “You won’t refuse. You’re too smart for that, Natasha. You know what’s at stake. You’ve always done what was necessary.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want to be tied down by something as archaic as marriage, especially not to someone she barely knew. But Fury was right. She had always done what was necessary, no matter the cost. And this, it seemed, was just another mission, one that would require all her skills to navigate.

“Fine..” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to play the happy housewife.” Fury almost smiled, but it was a cold, thin smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Natasha’s mind raced as she left the cold, sterile briefing room. Fury’s words echoed in her ears, a reminder that her life was no longer entirely her own. As she walked through the corridors of the SHIELD headquarters, her footsteps echoed ominously, each step bringing her closer to a fate she hadn’t chosen.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Fury again:

Meeting with Y/N in conference room in five minutes. Be there.

No time to think, no time to prepare. Typical. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before heading to the designated room. Natasha arrived at the conference room a few minutes early. The room was empty, the lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the table. It felt oddly impersonal, a stark contrast to the gravity of what was about to be discussed. She stood by the window, staring out at the headquarters’ grounds, trying to gather her thoughts.

The door opened behind her, and Natasha turned as you entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored suit, exuding the same sovereign confidence that had made you a respected figure in the diplomatic world. But there was something else in your eyes. A hint of irritation, maybe even anger. Clearly, you weren’t any happier about this situation than she was.

“Natasha.” you greeted her with a curt nod, your voice cool and distant. “Y/n.” Natasha replied just as coolly. She crossed her arms and leaned against the windowsill, her eyes narrowing as she studied the person in front of her. “So, I guess we’re getting married.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Looks that way. Not that either of us had a choice.” Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that? If you and your people hadn’t been so secretive, we might not be in this mess.” Your face hardened, a flicker of anger crossing your features. “Oh, please. Don’t act like SHIELD is any better. You’re all about secrets and manipulation. This marriage is just another one of your little games.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed further. “You think I want this? To be tied to someone I barely know, just to fulfill a political agenda? Don’t kid yourself.”

“Kid myself?” You scoffed and took a step closer, your voice rising. “Do you think it’s any easier for me? Being forced to marry the Black Widow, of all people? I know your reputation, Natasha. You’re a manipulator, a killer. This is the last thing I wanted.” Natasha’s jaw clenched, her anger boiling up. “And what about you? You’re no saint either, Y/n. You’ve played your games, made your deals behind closed doors, pulled strings to get what you want. Don’t pretend you’re any better.”

Anger flashed in your eyes. “At least I don’t hide behind a mask of false righteousness. I do what needs to be done for the greater good, just like you. But don’t mistake necessity for desire. I have no interest in playing house with someone who doesn’t even know what trust means.”

Natasha felt a sharp sting of anger mixed with something else, something she didn’t want to name. “Trust? That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve built your career on deception. And now you expect me to believe you’re the victim here?” You stepped closer, your voice low and sharp. “I don’t care what you believe. We’re both victims of this situation, but if you think I’m just going to roll over for you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Natasha’s anger flared again, her voice turning icy. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not here to make you happy. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. We’ll play the part when necessary, but other than that, stay out of my way.”

For a moment, they stood facing each other, only inches apart, the tension crackling between them like a live wire. Finally, Natasha turned away, breaking the tense silence. She moved to the table and sat down, forcing herself to focus. “Let’s talk logistics. The sooner we get this sorted, the sooner we can get it over with.”

You took a deep breath, regaining your composure, and sat down across from her. “Agreed. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Natasha shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s secure, and there’s enough space for both of us without stepping on each other’s toes. We can start moving your things tomorrow.” Your eyes narrowed. “Brooklyn? How convenient for you. Always need to have the home-field advantage, don’t you?”

Natasha offered a crooked smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m practical. It’s close to headquarters, and it’s safe. Unless you have a better suggestion?” Your lips pressed into a thin line, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play the obedient spouse. I need my space, my own office, my own schedule.”

“Fine.” Natasha responded sharply. “I don’t want you around me all the time anyway. We’ll do what’s necessary to make this look real, public appearances, a few shared events, then back to our own lives.” You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. “And what about the media? They’re going to follow us everywhere, looking for any crack in the facade.”

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “We’ll handle it. Stick to the script, and we won’t have any problems. There’s no need to make this more complicated than it needs to be.” You remained unconvinced. “You’re acting like this is so simple. But we both know there’s nothing simple about this.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened. “We don’t have a choice, Y/n. We do this because we have to, not because we want to.” Your jaw clenched, your voice turning icy. “Believe me, Natasha, the last thing I want is for this to work. But I’ll do what needs to be done. Just don’t expect anything more from me.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your mutual dislike hanging heavy in the air. This was going to be a nightmare..

In this silent moment, an agent came in with a pile of paper stuff. He sensed the tension immediately and just put it on the table and quickly left the room.

Thebtable was now filled with details on how your upcoming marriage would be presented to the world. It was an intricately crafted plan, covering everything from the official story of how you met to the timeline of your relationship and your behavior in public. Every detail had been meticulously planned by SHIELD’s PR team to ensure that the marriage appeared genuine.

You flipped through the pages with a grim expression, your fingers gripping the edges of the paper as if you wanted to tear them apart. “This is ridiculous..” you muttered, not bothering to hide your frustration. “They expect us to memorize a script? Like we’re actors playing a part?”

Natasha, sitting across from you, “That’s exactly what we are.” she said coolly. “This isn’t a real marriage, remember? We’re playing a role for the public.”

You shot her a sharp look. “I’m well aware. But this..” you gestured contemptuously at the file “is insulting. ‘Shared interest in global politics and mutual respect for each other’s abilities’? Really?” You read the lines aloud, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They’re acting like we’re two diplomats who fell in love over a discussion on trade agreements.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you prefer they invent a fairy tale romance? At least this version is believable. It’s not like we have a real story to fall back on.”

You slammed the file shut with a loud bang that echoed in the small room. “We wouldn’t need to make anything up if we weren’t being forced into this situation.” Natasha’s jaw tightened. “No one’s forcing you to stay. If you have a better solution, by all means, let me know.”

You sighed in frustration, rubbing your temples. “You know as well as I do that there isn’t one! Fury made sure of that.” Natasha watched you silently for a moment, her expression unreadable. “Then we make the best of it. We memorize the script, play the show, and get it over with.”

You looked up at her, your eyes flashing with anger. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re used to lying, aren’t you? Playing different roles, lying to people’s faces. But this..this isn’t just another mission, Natasha. This is our lives.”

Natasha's eyes hardened at the accusation. "You think I don't know that? You think I enjoy being paraded around like a puppet? I've spent my entire life fighting for control over my own decisions, and now I'm being told who I have to marry. So don't act like you're the only one angry about this." Your lips pressed into a thin line, your anger momentarily softened by a flicker of understanding. "Then why are you so calm? Why aren't you angrier?"

Natasha exhaled slowly, working to keep her emotions in check. "Because anger won't change anything. We're stuck in this, whether we like it or not. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with it." You stared at her for a long moment, your expression softening just a little. "So we learn the script, smile for the cameras, and pretend we don’t hate each other?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her voice low and controlled. "Yes, we pretend we don't hate each other. But we have to make it believable. People will be watching us closely, if they sense something is off, the whole show falls apart. That means we need to know each other, at least enough to sell the act."

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident on your face. "And how do you suggest we do that? Some getting-to-know-you games? Maybe ‘Two Truths and a Lie’?" Natasha gave a humorless smile. "We start with the basics. We go through the script and fill in the gaps with real information. What's your favorite food? What do you do in your spare time? What’s your biggest pet peeve? Things that couples know about each other."

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "Fine. But don't expect me to share my deepest secrets."

"I wouldn't dream of it." She opened the file again and flipped to a page titled *Personal Details*. "It says here that you enjoy hiking and reading. Is that accurate, or did they make it up?" You rolled your eyes. "It's true. I like hiking when I have the time, and I read a lot, mostly history and politics, but they don't need to know that in detail."

Natasha nodded, making a mental note. "Good. We can work with that. Mine says I'm into physical fitness and strategy games." She paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "Is there anything else we should add?" You looked at her thoughtfully before replying. "You like ballet, right? I read that somewhere." Natasha blinked, surprised by this observation. "Yes, that's true. Not many people know that."

"Well, it’s part of who you are.." you said, your tone less confrontational now. "We could use that." Natasha nodded, slightly impressed by this small concession. "Good. We'll add it to the list." You continued to go through the script, exchanging brief, factual information about yourselves, preferences, dislikes and childhood memories that could be used to support your fake story. But every answer was tinged with tension, each of you holding something back, building walls around yourselves.

After nearly an hour of discussion, you closed the file with a sigh and rubbed the back of your neck. "This is going to be a disaster." Natasha leaned back and crossed her arms. "Not if we're careful. We stick to the plan, stay on script, and give them no reason to doubt us."

You met her gaze, your expression weary but determined. "I just don't know how long we can keep this up. People will expect us to act like we actually care."

"We don't have to care." Natasha said, her voice cold and distant. "We just have to pretend we do." You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "And what happens if we slip up? If one of us says something off-script? We can't be perfect all the time."

"We won't slip up." Natasha said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're both professionals. We've been in situations far more stressful than this. We'll manage." You stared at her for a moment, searching her face for a crack in her ironclad facade. "You really believe that, don't you? That we can just fake our way through this lie without any consequences?"

Natasha's gaze remained unchanged, unyielding. "I believe we don't have a choice." The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your situation pressing down on both of you. This wasn't just about memorizing lines or putting on a good show, it was about maintaining a facade that could crumble at any moment, exposing you both to public scrutiny and potential danger. Finally, you stood up, your movements stiff with unresolved tension. "I guess we'll see, won't we?" Natasha stood as well, her posture mirroring yours. "Yes. We will."

The days passed in a blurred whirl of public appearances, each one a carefully staged performance that only deepened the rift between you and Natasha. Every event, every gesture, every word was meticulously planned, yet the underlying tension between you was impossible to ignore. The first major event you attended as a married couple was a high-profile gala, the kind of glittering affair where the rich and powerful gathered under chandeliers to sip champagne and discuss global affairs. Natasha had attended similar events countless times before, but never under these circumstances.

You wore an elegant black evening gown that accentuated your every movement, while Natasha was dressed in a sharp suit. As you walked into the ballroom, her hand rested lightly on your back, a gesture meant to appear familiar, but to you, it felt like a shackle. "Ready to charm the masses?" she murmured with a sarcastic edge as you entered the room.

The night was a marathon of forced smiles and carefully calculated interactions. You moved through the crowd like seasoned professionals, your hand never leaving Natasha's back as you met with diplomats and high society, maintaining the facade of a loving couple. But beneath the surface, Natasha could feel your simmering anger, mirroring her own. At one point in the evening, as you were cornered by a particularly nosy journalist, Natasha's patience was put to the test. The journalist smiled broadly and inquisitively as she fired off questions about your supposed whirlwind romance.

"How did you two meet?" the journalist asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Natasha suppressed an eye roll, but her voice remained smooth and warm as she responded. "We met at a diplomatic conference. We were both there on separate missions, but we kept running into each other. Things developed from there."

You seamlessly picked up the conversation, though your smile was a bit too stiff. "It didn’t take long for us to realize how much we had in common. After that, everything just fell into place naturally." The journalist seemed satisfied with the answer but continued to probe. "And when did you know it was love?"

You hesitated, your smile faltering for a split second before you recovered. "It wasn't just one moment. It was a lot of little things that made us realize we couldn’t imagine our lives without each other." Natasha forced herself to smile at you, her fingers lightly brushing your arm in a gesture meant to appear affectionate. "Yes, it was all those little moments that made it clear."

As the journalist moved on, Natasha could feel the tension in your posture, your hand pressing a little more firmly against her back, as if you were reminding her of your shared discomfort. "That was close.." you muttered as you both retreated to a quieter corner of the room. "We handled it." Natasha replied curtly, her voice barely above a whisper. "That’s what we do."

The rest of the night proceeded in much the same way, the two of you moving through the room, presenting the perfect image of a loving couple. But every touch, every smile, every word was carefully calculated, and by the time you finally left the gala, Natasha felt as if she were about to snap from the strain.

The ride back to your shared apartment was suffocatingly silent. The driver, a SHIELD agent, wisely kept his eyes on the road, leaving you both to your thoughts. When you arrived 'home', you immediately went to the kitchen to pour yourself a stiff drink. Natasha followed you, already on edge, her patience worn thin by the constant charade.

You turned to her, your expression hard. "You're really good at this, you know that? At pretending. It’s almost like it’s second nature to you." Natasha tensed as she heard the accusation in your words. "I had to be good at it. It's my job."

You let out a humorless laugh. "Your job. Right. I guess that's what happens when you're trained to be a spy from childhood. You learn to play whatever role is required." The words hit a sore spot, and Natasha's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Y/n. You don't know what you're talking about."

You took a step closer, your voice dropping to a near growl. "Don't I? You’ve spent your whole life being prepared for this, haven’t you? To lie, to manipulate, to make people believe whatever you want them to. This whole marriage..this whole act..probably means nothing to you."

Natasha felt her anger flare, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think this is easy for me? You think I enjoy lying about every aspect of my life, pretending to be someone I’m not?" You didn’t back down, your eyes burning with frustration. "But you're damn good at it, aren’t you? Must be all those years in that room. They made you the perfect little actress."

That was the breaking point for Natasha. Her eyes flashed with anger as she stepped forward and closed the distance between you. "You have no idea what the Red Room did to me. What it took from me. So don’t you dare try to twist that into some kind of compliment!" You stood your ground, your own anger flaring in response. "I’m not giving you a compliment, Natasha. I’m saying it’s terrifying how easily you slip into these roles. How convincing you are at pretending to care."

Natasha's breathing quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You think I want to be convincing, huh? You think I want to be good at this? I’ve spent my entire life fighting to break free of what the Red Room made me, and now I’m stuck in another damn role..and it’s with you."

Your jaw tightened, your anger now tinged with something that looked like guilt. "Maybe it’s not just a role for you. Maybe you don’t even know who you are when you’re not on a mission." The words cut deep, and for a moment, Natasha didn’t know how to respond. But the anger was too strong, too raw to let go. "You don’t know anything about me. Nothing about what I’ve been through, what I’ve had to do to survive."

You both stood there, staring each other down, the air between you crackling with fury and unspoken pain. Natasha's chest heaved with the force of her emotions, her mind a whirlwind of anger and hurt that she could barely keep in check. You set your glass down with a sharp clink, your face tight with suppressed frustration. "You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know you. But it sure as hell feels like you’re more comfortable in this lie than I am."

Natasha turned away, her hands trembling with the effort to contain her rage. "Go to bed, Y/n." You didn’t respond, simply turning on your heel and leaving the room, your footsteps echoing through the apartment. Natasha waited until she heard the door to your shared bedroom close before she finally let out a shaky breath. She was too good at pretending, far too good. And that was the problem. Because despite all her skills, all the years of training and missions, this felt different. It felt personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and your words had struck a nerve deep within her.

As Natasha stood alone in the kitchen, she couldn’t shake the feeling that you had seen through her facade in a way no one else ever had. The truth was, this marriage, this charade, was wearing her down in ways she hadn’t expected. And the more time she spent around you, the harder it became to maintain the mask she had worn for so long. She wanted to dismiss your words as just another argument, another clash of wills between two people who were forced into a situation neither wanted. But the truth was, you had hit on something she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. With a heavy sigh, she finally turned off the lights and headed to bed, her mind still racing. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep this up, but she knew one thing for certain. Whatever this was between the two of you, it was far from over.

The days that followed were intense, with both Natasha and you deeply immersed in your respective missions. Despite the tension between you, you had found a certain rhythm, maintaining your cover as a married couple while focusing on the tasks at hand. Your partnership was more functional than personal, efficient, strategic, and devoid of unnecessary emotional entanglements.

But that all changed when Loki appeared.

When chaos erupted in New York, the two of you were thrown right into the conflict, working side by side with the newly formed Avengers. The stakes were higher than ever, and there was no room for mistakes. You fought shoulder to shoulder, defeating Chitauri soldiers and securing key positions as you tried to save the city from destruction.

It was during one of those intense moments, after Natasha's confrontation with Loki, that everything changed. Loki had made it a point to bring up Natasha's past, the "red" in her ledger, the sins she had committed, the people she had hurt. He taunted her with names and events that Natasha had long tried to forget, using her guilt as a weapon to break her. The words were meant to destroy her, to make her doubt her worth, and they hit harder than any physical blow. But Natasha, the eternal professional, pressed on, using her pain as fuel to outmaneuver Loki and secure the information they needed. But the damage was done. The conversation with Loki had revealed more about Natasha’s past than she ever wanted anyone, especially you, to know.

After the battle, when the Avengers had won and the immediate threat had passed, Natasha returned to the SHIELD Helicarrier. The city was still in chaos, but the focus had shifted to recovery and rebuilding. Natasha was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the weight of Loki's words hanging over her like a dark cloud.

You had always had a keen sense for people, always quick to pick up on the smallest changes in mood or behavior. It was one of the reasons you were so good at your job. But now that sharp intuition was focused on Natasha, and it made her feel exposed in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

After debriefing with Fury, Natasha retreated to the quiet of your shared apartment, hoping to find a moment of peace. She had barely sat down on the edge of the bed when she heard the door open behind her.

“Natasha?” Your voice was soft, cautious, as you entered the room. Natasha didn’t turn around, but she could feel your probing gaze on her.

“What is it, Y/n?” Natasha’s tone was curt. She was too tired for this conversation, too drained to face another confrontation. You hesitated, the silence between you stretched out. “I..wanted to talk to you.” Natasha closed her eyes, bracing herself for another argument. “About what?”

“About Loki.” you said, your voice carefully measured. "We need to talk about what he said." Natasha’s muscles tensed, her back straightening as she tried to suppress the rising wave of fear in her chest. “I’m fine, Y/n. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That’s the point, Natasha.” you continued, taking a few steps closer. “I am worried. I know I’ve pushed you before, teased you about your past, but I didn’t..I didn’t realize it was something so serious.” Natasha’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She didn’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever. “I’ve already told you, my past is none of your concern.”

“But it is, Natasha!” Your voice was firmer now, the frustration evident. “We’re supposed to be partners, and I feel like I don’t know you at all.” Natasha finally turned to face you, her eyes narrowing as she stood. “You don’t know me, Y/n. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t ask for your sympathy, and I don’t need your pity.”

Your expression hardened, but there was a flicker of pain in your eyes. “This isn’t about pity, and you know it. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” Natasha snapped, her voice rising. “That I’ve done things I’m not proud of? That my past is full of blood and darkness you can’t even imagine?” You flinched at the sharpness in her voice, but you didn’t back down. “You’re right. I don’t know everything, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m trying to apologize, Natasha. For pushing you, for not realizing.”

Natasha stared at you, her anger battling with something deeper, something she didn’t want to name. “Why? So you can feel better? So you can feel like you’ve done the right thing?” Your eyes flashed with frustration. “No, damn it! I’m doing this because I care about you. Because, despite everything, I don’t want to keep fighting against you! Its draining..”

For a moment, you stood facing each other, the air between you charged with tension. Natasha felt her defenses beginning to crumble, the walls she had built around herself starting to give way under the weight of your words. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as the fight drained out of her. “You want to know the truth?"

Natasha sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting on her knees as if she needed to hold herself together. “The Red Room..it destroyed me. It took everything I was and made something else out of it. Something that had no choice, no control.” You sat down beside her, but you kept your distance, respecting the space she needed. “You didn’t have a choice, Natasha. You were a child.”

“That doesn’t change what I did ” Natasha said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I killed people. Innocent people. And I..I enjoyed it, Y/n. Back then, I enjoyed it because that’s what they made me.” You reached out, placing your hand gently over hers, but you said nothing. You knew this was a moment where words couldn’t do much.

Her voice was soft and laced with pain. “The things I’ve done..the people I’ve hurt..you can’t just brush that aside. The Red Room wasn’t just training, it was torture, it was conditioning, it was turning little girls into weapons. I did terrible things because I was programmed to. Because I didn’t know any better.” She paused, as the memories came flooding back with painful clarity. “And even after I got out, even after I tried to make up for it, the past still haunts me. Loki knew exactly where to strike, exactly how to remind me of the monster I once was.”

You listened in silence, your heart aching at the pain in Natasha’s voice. “You’re not a monster, Natasha.” She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “That’s easy for you to say. But you didn’t see what I did. You didn’t live it.”

“No, I didn’t. But I’ve seen who you are now. I’ve seen how hard you fight to do the right thing, how much you sacrifice. That’s not the work of a monster. That’s someone trying to make things right.” Natasha turned to you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But what if it’s not enough? What if it doesn’t matter what I do, and I can never atone for what I’ve done?”

You took her hands in yours. “You don’t have to do it alone, Natasha. You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha looked down at your hands, the warmth of your touch grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. For so long, she had believed that her past was something she had to face alone, that no one could understand the shadow that had shaped her. But in this moment, with you by her side, she realized that maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

“I’m sorry.” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking. “For pushing you away.” You squeezed her hands gently. “I’m sorry too. For not seeing how much you were hurting.” You sat there for a long moment in silence, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift, replaced by something new..something fragile, but real. It wasn’t love, not yet, but it was trust, and for now, that was enough.

The days after your late-night conversation were different, marked by an unspoken understanding that hadn’t been there before. Natasha and you continued with your missions, and the world was still recovering from the chaos of Loki’s attack, but something between you had shifted. Where there had once been tension and unspoken resentment, there was now a cautious, growing trust.

You moved around each other more easily, your conversations were less strained, your silences less heavy. The sharp edges of your interactions had softened, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that surprised you both. You weren’t friends yet, and certainly not lovers, but you were no longer just colleagues forced into a marriage of convenience. You were partners..genuine partners.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you returned to the Helicarrier and noticed the weariness weighing on Natasha. Her shoulders were slumped, and her usually sharp eyes were dulled with fatigue. But there was also something else, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, as if the burden she carried was now a little less heavy. “You look like you could use a break.” you said, your voice light but laced with concern. Natasha glanced at you, a small, tired smile playing on her lips. “You’re not wrong. This week has been hell.”

“More than usual.” you agreed. “How about we grab a drink? No talk about missions, just..a chance to unwind.” Natasha hesitated for a moment, her instinct to decline warring with the realization that maybe, just this once, she didn’t have to handle everything on her own. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

You headed to one of the quieter lounges on the Helicarrier, a small, dimly lit room where off-duty agents could relax. It wasn’t exactly cozy, but it was private enough to talk without the weight of your roles hanging over you. You ordered a couple of drinks, and the two of you sat down at a small table near the window, through which the vast, dark night could be seen. For a while, you drank in silence, the easy silence between you a far cry from the tense moments of the past.

“You know..” you began after a while, swirling your drink in your glass, “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About carrying this burden alone.” Natasha looked at you, her gaze steady but curious. “Yeah?”

“I’ve just..been thinking about how we’re supposed to be partners in this, but we’ve been so focused on keeping our walls up that we forgot what that really means." you said thoughtfully. “It’s not just about watching each other’s backs in a fight. It’s about being there for each other when things get tough, when the past tries to drag you down.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “I’m not used to that, you know. Letting someone in.”

“I figured..” you said with a small smile. “But you let me in, at least a little. And I want you to know that it meant something. It made me realize that maybe I haven’t been as fair to you as I could have been.” Natasha’s expression softened, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in her eyes. “You don’t need to apologize, Y/n. We were both just doing our jobs.”

“I know.” you replied. “But still, I’m sorry. For pushing you, for not seeing how much you’ve been through. I was so caught up in the mission and the cover that I didn’t take the time to really see you.” Natasha took a sip of her drink, letting the warmth of the alcohol ease the tension in her shoulders. “You see me now.” she said quietly. “And that’s more than I’ve let anyone do in a long time.”

You sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes, the atmosphere between you relaxed and open. Natasha realized that it was a relief not to have to be constantly on guard, not to have to keep everyone at a distance. “You know.." you said after a while, your tone lighter, “I’ve been thinking that when all this mess is over, we should take a break. Do something normal. I hear married couples go on vacations.” Natasha chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I’m not sure we pass as a normal married couple.”

“Who said anything about normal?” you grinned. “We could do something out of the ordinary. Like..I don’t know, skydiving or rock climbing. Something that gets the adrenaline pumping without the life-and-death stakes.” Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you want us to jump out of a plane..for fun?”

You shrugged, a mischievous smile on your lips. “Why not? After everything we’ve been through, it might be nice to do something that gets the heart racing without our lives depending on it.” Natasha considered it for a moment, then smiled, a real smile, not the practiced one she used in public. “You know what? That actually doesn’t sound so bad.”

You clinked your glasses together, and as the evening wore on, you talked about everything and nothing. Trivial things like favorite foods and music, and deeper topics like your dreams and fears. The walls between you continued to crumble, and by the time you finally returned to your apartment, there was a new understanding between you. “Thank you, Y/n. For tonight.” You smiled back, your voice warm. “Anytime, Natasha. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah.” Natasha replied, the words feeling truer than ever before. “We are.” As you parted ways for the night, Natasha felt a lightness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just the drink or the fact that she had survived another day, it was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone anymore. That for the first time in years, she had someone she could trust.

The following weeks were different. Natasha and you continued to work together, your partnership now stronger as the initial tension had eased. You were still far from being a typical married couple, but the foundation of trust you had begun to build made all the difference. One day, after a particularly successful mission, Fury called you both into his office. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a hint of something, perhaps approval in his gaze.

“You two have done good work.” Fury said, his voice even. “The mission was a success, and your cover held under pressure. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how this partnership would work, but you’ve exceeded expectations.”

Natasha glanced at you briefly, and you shared a small, knowing smile. “Thank you, sir.” Natasha replied. Fury nodded, then leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharpening. “That said, I’m not sure how much longer we can maintain the appearance of this marriage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Fury sighed, a rare sign of weariness passing over his face. “The situation has stabilized for now, but I have a feeling more trouble is on the horizon. You two have done your job well, but I’m giving you the option to dissolve the marriage if you think it’s the right move.”

Natasha felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite identify, regret? Uncertainty? She looked at you, searching your face for a clue as to what you were thinking. You met her gaze, your expression thoughtful. “I think..we should talk about it. See where we both stand.”

Natasha nodded slowly, a strange mix of emotions swirling in her chest. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” Fury watched you both for a moment, then gave a curt nod. “Take your time." With that, he dismissed you, and you left the office in silence, the weight of the decision heavy on your minds.

As you walked through the corridors, Natasha felt a sense of unease rising in her stomach. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to feel anything at the thought of ending the marriage. But now, the idea left a strange emptiness inside her. “So..” you said quietly as you reached your quarters, “what do you want to do?”

Natasha took a deep breath, turning to face you. “I don’t know." she admitted. “This started as a mission, as a cover. But now..I don’t know.” You nodded, your expression understanding. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

Natasha hesitated, then reached out and took your hand in hers. “But I know one thing. Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose what we’ve built. I don’t want to lose this..partnership.”

You stood there for a long moment, holding each other’s gaze, the air between you charged with unspoken possibilities. Finally, you smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat. "I have a good Idea where we can talk further.."

The lounge was quiet, with only the occasional murmur of conversations on the other side of the room. Natasha and you had had a few drinks again, the alcohol warming your bodies and loosening your tongues. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing easily between you in a way it hadn’t before. The heaviness of your earlier tensions had lifted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate atmosphere.

Natasha took another sip of her drink, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She looked at you, watching as you swirled the last bit of your whiskey in your glass, your eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. Your words slightly slurred, “I never thought we’d end up here. Not like this.”

Natasha laughed, her own voice tinged with the effects of the alcohol. “Yeah, me neither. This whole thing… was unexpected.” You leaned back in your chair, your gaze fixed on Natasha. “But..I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad we’re talking like this.” Natasha felt a warmth spread through her, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Me too.” she admitted, her voice softening. “It’s nice…not feeling alone.”

You smiled, a crooked, slightly drunken smile that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat as she felt a surge of emotions she wasn’t entirely ready to name. “You’re not alone, Natasha. Not anymore.” There was a charged moment between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of your shared experiences. The alcohol had lowered your defenses, leaving you both more vulnerable and open than you had been in a long time.

Natasha set her glass down, her fingers lightly brushing against yours on the table. The touch was electric, sending a shiver of awareness through her. She looked up and met your gaze, and in your eyes, she saw the same spark of attraction that she felt. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you growing more intense with each passing second. Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned across the table, and your lips met Natasha’s in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she responded to the kiss, her lips moving against yours in a way that felt both familiar and completely new. The kiss was tentative at first, an exploration of boundaries, but it quickly deepened as the need for each other became overwhelming.

Without breaking the kiss, you stood and pulled Natasha up with you. Your hands found each other’s bodies, exploring, touching, as you made your way out of the lounge and down the corridor to a quarter. Your kisses grew hotter, more desperate, as you neared the room. You fumbled with the keycard, finally managing to open the door, and the two of you tumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. As you finally made it to the bed, the rest of the world seemed to disappear. There was only the two of you, entwined with one another, your kisses hungry, your touches urgent. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving only the raw desire for each other.

The night passed in a blur of passionate moments and whispered names, your bodies intertwined as you lost yourselves completely in each other. The connection between you deepened with every touch, every kiss, until there was no distance left between you, no more walls to keep you apart. When you finally fell asleep, your bodies were still entwined, your breaths mingling as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep. The alcohol had done its job, lowering your defenses and bringing you together in a way neither of you had expected.

The first thing Natasha felt as she slowly woke up was the dull pounding in her head. She groaned softly, turning over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself, trying to block out the morning light seeping through the curtains. But as she moved, she realized something was off, something warm and solid was lying beside her. She froze, her senses suddenly sharp despite the hangover. Slowly, she opened one eye and was immediately met with the sight of you lying next to her, your face turned toward her, still fast asleep.

Natasha’s breath hitched as the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. The drinks, the laughter, the conversation that had unexpectedly turned personal..and then how you had ended up here, wrapped in each other’s arms. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to piece everything together. You had both been drunk, very drunk but that didn’t explain everything. How had you gone from reluctant partners in a forced marriage to this point? What had driven you to cross a line she hadn’t even realized you were approaching?

“shit." Natasha muttered quietly, careful not to disturb you as she tried to extricate herself from the sheets. But as she moved, you stirred beside her, your eyes slowly fluttering open. For a moment, you both simply stared at each other, your expressions mirroring the shock and confusion that Natasha was feeling. “Morning.” you finally said, your voice rough and uncertain.

“Morning.” Natasha echoed, her voice just as hesitant. There was a long, awkward silence as you both tried to process the situation. Natasha could see the same questions in your eyes that were running through her own mind: How had this happened? What did it mean? And where do you go from here?

“I..uh..did we…?” you began, clearly struggling to find the right words. Natasha’s cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded. “Yeah. I think we did.”

You rubbed your hand over your face, slowly sitting up as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep and alcohol. “Okay, so…how did we end up here?” Natasha bit her lip, trying to recall the details. “We were talking..had a lot to drink. And then..I don’t know. One thing led to another, I guess.” She managed a small, ironic smile. “But at least we don’t have to invent any lies if someone asks us about our sex life now.”

You chuckled at her comment, and the tension in the room eased slightly. “True. It’s almost like we’ve fully embraced our roles now. Now that she's finished.” Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I guess we’re just overachievers.”

The laughter died down, and once again, the reality of your situation set in. Things had gotten personal in a way neither of you had anticipated. “So…what do we do now?” you asked, your tone more serious this time.

Natasha sighed, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. “I don’t know. We could just pretend nothing happened, but… that feels like we’d be lying to ourselves.”

“Yeah, and we’ve done enough pretending to last a lifetime.” you agreed, your expression thoughtful. “But we also can’t ignore the fact that this all started as a mission. A mission where we were supposed to pretend to be in love, even though we didn’t really like each other.” Natasha nodded, the weight of that truth pressing down on her. “Right. And now we’ve crossed a line, and I don’t think we can just go back.”

You frowned, deep in thought. “But do we need to go back? I mean, we’ve been through a lot together, and… I don’t know. Maybe this was just..inevitable?” Natasha looked at you, searching your face for any hint of what you were really feeling. “Maybe. But now it’s complicated. We can’t just act like everything is the same as before.”

Your smile, “Hey, at least we’re dedicated to the mission, right?” Natasha laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “Right. We’ve more than fulfilled our duties.”

You both laughed, the tension between you beginning to dissipate. The humor was a relief, a way to ease the confusion and discomfort that came with waking up in each other’s bed after what was supposed to be just another night of playing your roles. But as the laughter faded, the reality of your situation remained. You couldn’t just laugh your way out of this, you had to figure out what it meant for you.

“So…what do we do now?” you asked again, your tone more serious this time. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to organize her thoughts. “We figure it out. No more lies, no more excuses. We take it one step at a time.” You nodded, your expression softening. “I can do that. One step at a time.”

Natasha felt a strange sense of relief at your words. This was new territory for both of you, but at least you didn’t have to navigate it alone. You had each other, and while it was still a complicated mess, it was something you could rely on. As you both got out of bed and began to dress, the weight of your new reality settled over you. This wasn’t going to be easy, but you were in it together, and for now, that was enough.

“Hey, Natasha?” you said as you pulled your shirt over your head. “Yeah?”

You paused for a moment, your expression thoughtful. “I know this isn’t what either of us expected, but..I’m glad we’re here." Natasha smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. “Me too, Y/n. Me too.”

As you left the room and stepped back into the world, you did so with a new understanding of each other. You had started as reluctant partners, forced together by a mission, but now…now there was something more. Something worth exploring, even if it was still messy and confusing. The mission had brought you together, but it was your shared experiences and growing bond that would keep you together. And as you walked side by side, ready to face whatever came next, you both knew that this was only the beginning of something new.

[azrielsdove]

Cold Hearts Pt. 3

Warnings: Slight angst, suggestiveness, vulnerability

Pt. 2 Here

***

Azriel couldn’t sleep. He went to her room after their argument, stopping himself from knocking when he heard the sounds of her crying. Oh, he had made such a mess. Did the bond snap for her too? Was she crying because she was fated to someone who had been so mean to her?

No, Azriel. Stop that. He chided himself, remembering her words in the library. “Are you so self centered that you truly believe everything I do is about you?” Maybe he was. Although, she didn’t give him much reason to think her actions weren’t aimed at him. It wasn’t his fault that she never talked to anyone. He groaned, trying to banish that thought from his mind. He needed to stop blaming her for all of this. He had allowed his own feelings to cloud his judgment, never once stopping to think if there was some other reason why she may act so cold.

Azriel looked at his hands, at the scars tracing the skin. Why had she always stared at them in such a disgusted way? He couldn’t figure that one out. He was confused. Painfully confused. His mind ached with the thoughts running through it, wishing he could just forget everything. He couldn’t figure this out on his own.

He had to find Rhysand.

***

Rhys was not pleased when he opened his door in the dead of night to the Shadowsinger. Though the sleep disappeared from his eyes the second he took in the expression on Azriels face. “What has happened?” He demanded, body tensing as he prepared for the worst.

Azriel simply shook his head, suddenly unsure of what to say. “I-“ He started, “I don’t, I don’t actually know what happened.” He felt ashamed, not ready to admit how he’s been acting unfairly for all these years. Her name fell from his mouth, a quiet plea. “I need to know her story.”

Rhysands lips thinned. “That is not mine to share, Azriel.” He sighed at the distraught look on his friends face, running a hand through his hair. “You have to ask her yourself. She hasn’t even talked about it with me in all this time, and I was the one who found her.” Azriel ducked his head, more guilt piling on top of his shoulders. How bad must it have been for her to not be able to talk about it a hundred years later? Rhys clapped a hand on Azriels shoulder, trying to comfort his friend. “She’s not who she pretends to be. Give her a chance, Az. Let her come to you.” Azriel nodded, thanking him before heading back home.

Let her come to you.

***

READER POV

You woke up before the sun, laying awake in your bed as you planned what you were going to say to Azriel. You never spoke about what happened to you, but you knew you had to at least give him some of the story so he could understand. Understand that it wasn’t his scars that upset you, but your own. That he had never wronged you, it is your mind that’s the curse.

You were scared.

You didn’t know how he would react. You never expected that Azriel would be the one you ended up opening up to. You hardly knew him. Maybe that was better. Or was it worse? You groaned and covered your eyes with your hands, wishing you could make your thoughts make sense. How were you supposed to get through a conversation if you couldn’t even think straight?

You pulled yourself out of bed as the sun began to shine over the horizon, dressing to go find Azriel. You knew he tends to rise early, getting early training sessions in before breakfast. That would be where you looked for him first, then.

You took a deep breath and headed to the training ring.

***

You half expected him to not be there. You weren’t sure if you were happy or disappointed to see him when you entered the ring. You paused in the doorway, slightly hidden from his sight. You watched as he practiced, the way his body moved was almost an art. You had never really looked at the Shadowsinger, always too wrapped up in your own head. You felt your heart quicken while you watched, observing the beauty of him in the early morning sun. You watched as he moved, the muscles rippling on his arms, his wings flaring out slightly. His wings. You felt a sharp pain in your heart, seeing the sun shine through them. You felt the ache of where yours used to be, just as beautiful as his.

You had to make your move now or you were going to talk yourself out of it. You stepped forward, giving a little cough to signal your arrival. Azriel halted, spinning towards you like he’d seen a ghost. He said your name like a question, blankly staring at you. You bowed your head, kicking the sand with your foot. Now that you were here you didn’t know how to start.

You swallowed and looked back up to him. “You’re really good at that.” You blurted out, embarrassment instantly coloring your cheeks. “I mean, I knew you were good. I’d just never watched you like that, moving so freely.” His eyes widened slightly as he looked you over, saying nothing. “N-not that I was like, standing here for long. I just wanted to come talk to you, after last night, and I saw you and I didn’t want to interrupt.” You silently cursed. You were rambling. You needed to get it together. You opened your mouth to speak again before shutting it quickly, leaving room for him to respond.

Azriel looked into your eyes, an interesting expression on his face. “Uh, thank you.” He spoke politely, seemingly unsure of how to talk to you. That made the guilt even worse. You looked down again, staring at the ground like you were hoping it would open up and swallow you. You jumped a little as Azriel started speaking again; “I’m sorry, for what I said. It wasn’t fair of me to lash out at you like that.” You looked up in shock, not really expecting him to apologize.

“No, i’m sorry. I see now how my actions made you think I was being unnecessarily cruel. The truth is, I-“, You stopped. You couldn’t do this. You felt your throat closing up, the panic threatening to overtake your body. Azriel seemed to sense it too, stepping close to you.

“Hey, hey, you don’t owe me any explanation. I was only thinking about myself, you were right.” You could tell he wanted to reach out and touch you, comfort you. You couldn’t tell if you wanted him to or not.

You took a breath, clearing your mind. “Azriel,” you started, forcing calm through your body, “I have scars of my own. Like yours.” You looked into his eyes, gauging his reaction.

He nodded, hands fidgeting at his side. “I see.” He said quietly, gaze flitting over your body. “Where at?” The question was barely a whisper, and you almost pretended you didn’t hear.

But that would not be beneficial to anyone.

“Here.” You said softly, turning your back to him and beginning to raise your shirt.

“You don’t have to show me.” He spoke quickly, hands covering yours, stilling their movements. You sucked in a surprised breath at the contact, mind going temporarily blank.

“It’s okay. I want you to see.” You finally said, pulling your hands out from under his. “You can lift it the rest of the way.”

You shivered as the morning breeze ran over your newly exposed skin, his hands raising the back of your shirt up slowly. You heard the sharp intake of air as he saw the jarring, burnt stumps where your wings used to be. All was quiet for a moment, Azriel taking in the damage in front of him.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was harsh, anger dripping from every word. You were mortified at the fire that ran under your skin at his tone. You pulled away to look at him, taking in his darkened eyes.

“They were dealt with.” Was all you said, not sure how much you were ready to reveal. Azriel could sense your hesitation, giving a curt nod.

“By Rhysand?” He asked.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Good. I know he didn’t make it pleasant for them.” His eyes were a raging fire.

“It was my father.” You suddenly said, not even realizing you had decided to tell him. “And my soon-to-be-husband.”

If you thought you had seen anger on Azriels face before, you were wrong. Pure rage ran over him, every muscle in his body tensing. You took a small step back in fear, having never seen him like this. “Azriel?” You whispered out, trying to bring him back down.

“Let me see them again.” He commanded, turning you around. You allowed him to lift your shirt again, shuddering when one of his hands lightly traced the scars on your back. “Is this okay?” He whispered, breath fanning over your ear.

You could only nod, unable to handle all the different emotions coursing through you.

Azriels hand traced your scars for what felt like forever, but was probably only a minute. When he was done he pressed both of his hands to your back, letting your shirt fall over all the scars between the two of you. Your skin was tingling at the contact, a part of you never wanting this to end. You didn’t realize that you were sinking back into Azriels touch until his hands slid down and around to your waist, your back hitting his chest.

You jumped away from him, every inch of you buzzing from his hands. What was wrong with you?

You turned to face him, not wanting him to think you were upset. “Sorry I, it’s been- it’s been a long time since anyone has, since I have, I haven’t-“ You stuttered out, your words jumbling together and making no sense. You slid your hands down the front of your shirt, trying to soothe your racing heart. “That’s all to say, uh, I haven’t had much physical contact in a, a long time.” You pushed a piece of your hair out of your face, trying to read Azriel. “Not that, not that I didn’t like it, I just, it’s been…a while.” You wanted to melt into the ground. You were making it so much worse.

He laughed. A warm, welcoming sound. You couldn’t help but smile as he did, feeling warm all the way to the tips of your toes. “It’s okay,” he said, his tone turning serious. “I shouldn’t have kept going, you just seemed so calm and I didn’t want that feeling to fade.”

Oh. Oh. A wave of emotion crashed into you at his words, your vision growing blurry. He cared about you. Somehow, after the way you’ve acted towards him for so long, he cared.

Azriel was too good.

You had to say something, needing to break the silence that was now growing. “The children,” you began, “You saw me teaching them.” He nodded, signaling you to continue. “After all that happened, Amarantha, the attack on Velaris, Hybern, I wanted to make sure our youngest could protect themselves. Training had made me feel strong, before…” you trailed off, gesturing to your back. Azriels eyes grew sharp for a moment, understanding what you meant. “Anyway, I asked Rhys if I could train them. I figured I wasn’t doing much else, and I know enough from you and Cassian that I could teach them basic maneuvers. I love children, I used to dream of having my own with Ga-“ You stopped yourself, horror flooding through your bones. You hadn’t said his name since he heartlessly sliced your wings off.

Azriel noticed the fear start to take over, gently reaching out and grabbing your hands between his. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” He said softly, running his thumbs soothingly over your skin.

“Yea, yea I know.” You mumbled, looking at your hands in his. You cleared your throat, connecting your eyes back with his. “I wanted them to feel safe. That they can protect themselves. It gives me a small piece of hope, that even if something happened they could defend themselves through it.” You felt a tear slide down your cheek, not realizing you had started crying. You pulled one hand from Azriels, wiping it away.

“That is a selfless thing you are doing, training them. I wish one of us had thought of that long ago.” He said, squeezing your remaining hand. You smiled softly at him, not trusting yourself to speak again.

***

It had been a few weeks since your talk with Azriel, something changing between you that day. You now stood with him in front of your students, their little faces lit up with excitement. You had promised to bring the Shadowsinger to them, and their excitement at having a “real warrior” was almost overpowering. You weren’t sure he was going to say yes when you asked, knowing he tends to stay on the quiet side. You almost kissed him when he agreed right away.

Almost.

You couldn’t deny the feelings in your heart as you grew closer to him. They scared you as much as they excited you. You never thought you would feel this way about anyone ever again, especially with the dark shadow of what happened the last time you felt this way looming over you.

Azriel was different, you kept telling yourself. He would never be as evil as Gannon had been. Azriel was a better soul, a soul who knew the pain you’d gone through all too well. You looked up at him, smiling at the nervous look on his face.

“Take it away, Shadowsinger.”

***

The class had been an incredible success. The children loved Azriel, and he seemed to enjoy them just as much. He was able to teach them some defense tricks you hadn’t known, smiling broadly as the littlest of the group caught on the quickest. You were so proud of your students, so inspired by their drive to learn.

Watching one of the little girls run up to him at the end of class and wrap her arms around his legs did something irreparable to your heart. Azriel bent down, scooping her into his arms. “You did amazing, little warrior.” He said, her smile so bright it could contend with the sun. You walked over and pulled the girl out of his arms, giving her a hug of your own before setting her down. “Go on, now. Your mother is waiting at the door.” You watched as she ran to her mother, sending the female a smile as she collected her daughter.

Once everyone had cleared out you began closing all the windows and locking up for the afternoon. You finished pulling the last curtain down, heading over to make sure all the paperwork was done at your desk. You checked to make sure there weren’t any new students joining the next class, marking down those who came today. You were so engrossed in your work you didn’t notice Azriel come stand behind you until you finished and turned, slamming right into his chest. His hands went to your hips to stabilize you, laughing. You tried and failed to glare up at him, a loud laugh coming from you a second later.

When the laughter subsided you looked up at him. His hands hadn’t moved from your hips, and yours hadn’t moved from his chest. “You did great with them,” you said, cutting the tension. Azriel smiled, a hand coming to brush your hair behind your ear.

“They were easy. Their teacher must be an angel.” His words were heavy, his eyes distracted. His hand cupped the side of your face, angling your head up to him.

Your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

For a long few seconds the two of you stood there, daring the other to make the first move. Your resolves broke at the same time, surging forward to join in a heated, desperate kiss. He lifted you up onto the desk behind you, the hand on your hip dropping to grip your thigh as he stepped between your legs. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. You needed him as close as possible, your body was calling to his. You felt like your heart was pulling him in, a golden string almost tying you to him. You saw it in your mind as he kissed you, feeling that string tighten in your chest.

No, not a string.

A bond.

You gasped, pulling away from the kiss. You were rendered speechless as the bond snapped for you, your eyes wide with shock. Azriel looked panicked for a moment, looking at you with concern. “Are you okay? Was it too much, I understand if you’d-“ You cut him off with another kiss.

“Mate.” You whispered against his lips, his body stilling under your touch. Oh gods, did he not know? Did he not want the bond? Did you just fuck it all-

All thoughts were interrupted by Azriels mouth pressed hot against yours. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say it.” He growled into your skin, biting your bottom lip. You moaned at his touch, at his kiss, at your mate. The one thing you were convinced you would never find. He’d been right in front of your eyes all this time, both of you too wrapped up in yourselves to truly see each other.

You tightened your hold around Azriel, one of your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He groaned into your mouth at your touch, a sly smile on your face. You felt whole as his hand slid under your shirt and up your back. You didn’t flinch when his scars touched yours, embracing the vulnerability you shared. The scars that had haunted you now a connection to the one who was made for you.

For the first time in your life, you felt truly safe.

***

I hope this ending was satisfying for you all!! I am blown away by the amount of support on this mini series. I really enjoyed writing it, challenging myself to bring hard emotions into it. Please let me know what you think of this ending, I can’t tell how I feel about it! I rewrote it several times, I couldn’t figure out which direction I wanted it to go. I appreciate and love ALL of your comments on this, and I hope you come back to read some of my other works too <3

[verstappen-cult]

Request for a lestappen image. The reader has a complicated relationship with her mother, and she's upset that her mom doesn't support her career choices. She's an F1 engineer with a master's and her mom think she could be a professor. Both Max and Charles defend her from her mom, after an argument the reader and her mom had. Both Max and Charles comfort and take care of the reader after.

It was going well, too well. You should’ve expected it, but deep down you wanted to believe her intentions were good, that she really missed you. 

It’s always the same thing when your mother invites you to dinner, she’s all smiles and giggles, giving you a sense of comfort only to burst your bubble with her harsh words. 

Today was no different. Not even because you’ve brought Max and Charles with you for the first time. 

She was taking the dessert out of the fridge while you prepared some coffee for your boys when she opened her mouth to discuss the same thing over again. But this time you didn’t have time to argue, to let her know — again — that you’re happy where you are and with what you do, that you don’t need her contacts to give you a place in some fancy university because you’re happy traveling around the world and sharing a passion with your boyfriends. No, she didn’t let you say anything because she knows you’ll never accept anything that comes from her. So, she just kept talking, rude words coming out of her mouth, while you stood there, frozen in place unable to stand up for yourself, you can’t even cry at this point, so used to it—to her.

“What’s happening here?” Max has a frown on his face, blue eyes slightly squinted. “Are you okay, schatje?” His right hand finds your lower back, and you can, finally, breathe again.

“We are in the middle of a private conversation.” Your mother says in a warning tone, but Max doesn’t even flinch, he keeps looking at you.

“Conversation?” You didn’t notice when Charles joined you in the kitchen too, but you’re glad he’s there. “I’ve been listening to you for the past ten minutes and you haven’t let her speak once.” 

“It’s none of your business.” She simply says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Oh, but it is.” Max turns around to face your mother but you grab his wrist to stop him from moving away from you. 

He looks at you for a brief second and you whisper, “It’s not worth it.”

“We’re leaving.” He says, leaning to place a kiss on your forehead. Then, without leaving your side, he turns his head to look directly into your mother’s eyes. “You should be ashamed of yourself, acting like this at your age instead of being proud of how smart and amazing your daughter is.”

“Don’t bother calling, she won’t pick up.” You hear Charles saying from the kitchen as Max guides you out of the house, a huge combination of emotions making you want to cry. 

Only when you’re outside do you let the tears fall Max and Charles are right there by your side, holding you and whispering comforting words in your ears. 

“I’m not crying because of her,” You say, breathing out. “I’m so glad to have you with me.”

“I’ll defend you with my life.” Max says, his soft smile making the butterflies in your tummy go crazy. 

“I’ll fight anyone who dares disrespect you.” Charles looks so innocent while saying it that you can’t help the giggle that leaves your mouth, and their faces light up at hearing you.

“I’m gonna call that place we love so much to pick some Tiramisu on our way home.” Max takes his phone you of his back pocket.

“Can you order some vanilla ice cream too?” Charles asks with a pout and even though Max rolls his eyes you know he’ll have them add extra of everything.

“Oh, we can watch that romcom I've been dying to see all week!”

Max and Charles share a look before smiling at you, “Anything for you, baby.”

[killerlookz]

She Makes Dirty Words Sound Pretty | Joost Klein

description: joost klein x f! reader You and Joost manage to find a moment of intimacy over the phone amidst a time of hardship in your relationship. (very much based on of this song <33 so lyrics are scattered throughout!)

content 18+ NSFW, MDNI- phone sex, mutual masturbation, relationship issues, angst/comfort, lots of comfort (if you catch my drift), this fic contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable, and please block the rpf tag

word count: 2425

I'm only trying to work this out / So if you call me at all don't tell me that I'm ordinary / because I won't be passing you, please don't leave

Your stomach churns at the sound of your phone buzzing, over the last week you had associated the sound of your phone buzzing with nothing but tears and heartache.

You roll over, letting the thick comforter that covers you slip down your shoulders as you reach for your phone from the nightstand. Just as you expected. An anxious hand hesitates to pick up the phone, not in the mood to engage in conversation with who you were sure within the coming days would be your ex-boyfriend.

A sharp pang vibrates throughout your chest looking at the screen that shines at you.

Joost <3

Rather hurtfully paired with a picture of the two of you together, his arms wrapped around you, lips pressed against your cheek in a soft kiss.

You roll your eyes, he was going to keep calling if you didn't pick up. You huff, giving in, ripping your phone from where it sat next to your bed. Reluctantly you answer, your chest tightening waiting to hear the voice on the other end.

"Y/n?" The trepidation in Joost's voice was apparent, "Are you there, schatje?" The inclusion of the pet name made you wince, sounding all too sweet for your displeasure with him at the moment. Usually, you'd revel in his compliments and sweet nothings- but not now, you couldn't.

Things had been unusually hard lately, only exacerbated by the fact that Joost had been away on tour. It seemed like all the two of you had done in the last few weeks was fight. Usually about petty, little things- things that didn't even really matter but in the moment they seemed like everything. Half the time you couldn't even remember what the arguments were about, all that remained were bitter feelings and tear stains that lingered on your cheeks.

It had all culminated last night- a screaming match unparalleled to any other petty argument the two of you shared in recent weeks. You knew deep down that neither of you had meant any of the horrible, venom-dripped words you had spit at each other. But right now it felt impossible to ever forgive, much less forget.

"I'm here." You respond, short, monotone- trying not to give too much away about how you were feeling.

"Oh, y/n," He breathes, "I've been worried, I've been trying to talk to you since last night."

"I saw." You answer, just as short and uninterested as your last statement. Joost had been blowing up your phone for the last 24 hours- so terribly you had considered blocking his number at least for a little while.

"I know you're mad at me, y/n, but I still worry about you, you can't just ignore me like that." His voice is firm like he's scolding you- but you can sense a pain behind your voice, and if you hadn't been so fed up at the moment, you'd almost feel sorry for ignoring him.

"Oh," You snap, "So you're going to tell me what I can and cannot do now?"

"Why are you looking for a fight, y/n?" He sighs, "I'm just saying I was worried about you, how was I supposed to know what happened?"

"I'm not looking for a fight."

"You're always looking for a fight," Frustration is heavy in Joost's words.

"Is that really what you think of me?" You scoff, covering the ache you feel in your heart with anger.

You hear Joost let out a breath on the other end, "No," You note how tired he sounds as he continues, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that."

"I don't know that. It sounds like you did." You're having none of his apology, weeks of growing resentment were not going to be fixed by one simple apology.

"Mijn lieve meisje" (My sweet girl) He coos, "I don't mean to make you so angry." His voice has softened, a stark contrast to the harsh tone of your own voice, "You know I hate to hear you sound like this- even worse to know I did it."

Something about the gentleness of his voice, and the way he seems so aware of his own role in all of this makes your heart thump- and you almost want to forgive him altogether. But you can't, not right now- not yet.

I hear you breathing on the line... / I leave you hurting every night

"Het spijt me (I am sorry), I want to make things better between us."

"I don't know," You mumble, unsure of if there is even anything that could make things better.

"You don't know how badly I wish I was with you," His voice rich with longing, "I need to make these last few weeks up to you. I miss you liefje, I miss us."

You can't lie, you want that too, wishing so badly just for everything to go back to normal, to no longer have this hole in your chest, for your body to no longer ache with this profound sadness.

"It's just going to be so hard to forget last ni-"

"I know, schatje." He cuts you off, "You have every reason in the world to be angry with me."

"Are you angry with me?" You ask, wondering if he mirrored your own upset feelings towards

"Angry isn't the right word, no." And suddenly your stomach churns with guilt, "I'm just tired of how things have been."

You're tired too, tired of dreading his calls, tired of the tears, tired of the sleepless nights regretting every awful word you've said.

"Me too," You murmur

"I won't force you to forgive me," Joost sighs, "Not until you're ready. But I know you're upset, and I want you to feel better."

His words are so soft, so gentle, melting away your anger with each. careful syllable.

"Can you talk to me, please?" He's practically pleading.

"What do you want to talk about?" You're unsure of what conversation could fill this dead air, how you could possibly talk and things feel okay.

"Tell me what you're doing now," He requests, his words quick.

"I'm just in bed," You shrug nothing special.

"Breaks my heart to think about you all alone in that big bed." You can't tell if the pity in his voice is mocking or genuine.

"I guess it's okay," You had gotten used to the loneliness, it was worse in the first few days he had been gone.

"Mh-mh," he mumbles in disagreement, "Hate thinking about how my pretty girl has to sleep alone every night."

There's a sensuality in his tone that makes you clench your jaw, and your breathing deepen. His pretty girl. His.

"In my bed, at that." He adds.

You supposed he was technically right- you had been the one to move into his apartment.

You hum softly into the phone, not able to come up with many words to say, he seemed more like was simply just thinking out loud than having a conversation.

"I miss you," He says again, "Tell me you miss me too, schatje, I know you do."

There's something about the way he speaks that makes you oblige so easily,

"Miss you too," You mumble, head falling to the side as your eyes close.

"Mmm good," He's practically purring to you, "You're so good."

The praise was simple, you hadn't done much past admitting something the two both knew was true, but it felt like it had been so long since the two of you had spoken so gently to one another, and so you absolutely drank it up.

"You're saying so little, what is on your mind?" He pries like he's looking for something specific.

"Nothing, really." You're entirely self-aware of how boring you must sound to him, but it's the truth- sort of.

He hums in response, "Can I tell you what I'm thinking about?" He asks, his voice oozing with anticipation

"I won't stop you,"

"I'm thinking about you, thinking about how beautiful you must look right now, about holding you, how your body feels against mine, about-" He stops short,

"About..?" You trail off, wanting him to continue his pretty praises. A delightful tingle was beginning to spread through your body, his kind words making you weak.

"More of the same," He says quickly, "Just thinking about being with you now."

A soft smile sweeps over your face at the thought, though you assumed your thoughts now had to be a lot less innocent than his. You couldn't help yourself, you'd been so pent up since he left that the smallest words of adoration were setting you off.

Your hands trail down under the covers, rubbing at your inner thigh, before softly grazing over your panties. You let out a sigh, rubbing soft circles over your clit through the thin lacey fabric.

Your breathing quickens as you deepen your movements, rubbing with more intention now. You arch your back, thinking about how this would be going down if Joost was here, the two of you had never needed to have makeup sex before- but you supposed now was as good of a time as ever to imagine it.

You think about how Joost said he needed to make it up to you, about how the last few weeks had been- at this moment you couldn't have thought of a better way for him to make things up to you than with his tongue, or his fingers, or his cock.

Your pussy ached at the thought of him- the thought of you stretching around him as he mumbles sweet words in your ears about how sorry he is.

You slip your panties to the side, a finger sliding down your now-soaked folds, the contact making you gasp, "Fuck,"

You can hear Joost clicking his tongue on the other end of the line- and suddenly you realize what you had just done, your body growing with an uncomfortable and shameful heat.

"So dirty," He chastizes

"W-what?" You sputter, attempting to feign innocence about what you had been doing.

Who wouldn't let you scream 'oh' into a soft pillow / I'm such an animal, and baby honestly these teeth won't let you go

"It's okay, schatje, you don't have to act stupid," His smirk is audible through the phone, "Don't be embarrassed, keep going, let me talk you through it."

Your body relaxes and your embarrassment subsides.

"Now, will you tell me what you're thinking about?" He asks sweetly

"Thinking," A soft sigh falls from your lips, "About you," Your hand slowly crossing your thighs to return to your throbbing cunt, "About how bad I want you." The words are a struggle to get out as you resume drawing circles around your swollen clit.

"Yeah?" He encourages, and you hear some shifting on the phone, "What do you want?"

"I want," You breathe out, "You," Another breath, "Inside of me."

"Fuck," He groans, his breathing becoming louder, "Want this cock, pretty?"

"Y-yes- ah!" You can't suppress your high-pitched yelp as you slip a finger into your leaking entrance.

"Say it, tell me how much you want me to fuck you." He begs, his voice low and gritty.

"So bad, Joost, need to be fucked so bad" Your words are breathless as you pump your fingers in and out, making your eyes screw shut tight. "Fuck, I haven't had you inside of me in so long, I need it." You feel your lower stomach tightening, pleasure taking hold of you.

"How about my tongue, hm? I'd love to taste you right now, always so sweet for me," Joost sounds just about as breathless as you do right now, and the thought of him on the other end only makes you want to work your fingers harder.

"Uh-huh," You whine, thinking about his tongue lapping at your arousal, his tongue trailing from your swollen clit to your quiver entrance, teasing, before taking a dip inside. "Anything- just need you."

"Oh, you have me, you'll always have me." His words are hungry, and you can tell he's speaking through a clenched jaw, "Fuck, liefje, you have me so worked up like this and you're not even here, love hearing that pretty voice of yours."

You're almost positive you're certainly in an even more worked-up state than he is.

"Mmmneed you to fuck me until I can't walk," You sigh, unable to help but think about him absolutely ruining you, his hands groping your flesh as he pounds into you, unrelenting. "My fingers can't reach as good as you do," You can't help but stroke his ego a little, he deserved it after the hell you had been putting him through.

"Oh," He whines, "arme schatje, (poor baby) I know, I know, just keep working those fingers for me though, okay?"

Despite your fingers not being able to hit all the same places Joost can, the pressure in your body is still building, and you can tell you're losing control, especially as a long string of groaned expletives falls from Joost's mouth, his obvious pleasure only working further to push you to the edge.

"I'm c-close," You stutter, your legs starting to shake.

"Speak up, baby- want to hear how you cum for me."

The pace at which your fingers pulse in and out of you increases, working to bring yourself over the edge. You imagine Joost inside you, imagine him bringing you to an orgasm and cumming all over the length of his cock.

You can't talk now, your words are simply replaced by loud moans and gasps as you hope to god you don't wake up the neighbors.

In the throughs of your orgasm now, your back arched- near screaming, "I-I'm cumming, fuck, Joost," You can't finish the rest of your sentence, all you can focus on is the wave of pleasure that overtakes you, the way the tightness in your body is shattering.

"Hold on," Joost grunts, "I'm almost there- hold on,"

You lay on your back, legs shaking, out of breath, listening to Joost on the other end.

He finishes with one final strained "Fuck"

Neither of you speak for a few minutes,- your mind is racing, your thoughts absolutely dizzying as the silence is only filled by the two of you attempting to catch your breaths.

"Still angry now?" Joost asks, finally breaking the tension.

"I don't think so," You're not, you were way too blissed out to feel anything but complete, overwhelming love.

"So you love me again?" He jokes, chuckling to himself.

"I never stopped."

a/n: i added a pt. II to this, find it here

[adventuringblind]

Baby Daddy

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Smut

Request: Yes and I did this happily because it came from the best (Would have been happy either way but that just makes it better)

summary: Charles and Max decided to see who can get reader knocked up first.

Warnings: Breeding kink, PinV, vomiting, double penetration, teasing, praising+degrading

Notes: The author liked this one. The author will now be jumping in holy water.

masterlist

The following media is not intended for minors. Please don't interact if you're under the age of 18.

She wasn’t sure how the conversation started. She knew both boys wanted to start a family, and she was in the height of a baby fever that she can’t escape from. So, asking about it made sense.

Not that they were mad. Of course not. They just couldn’t decided who would be the one to be the biological father.

“I think we should make it a competition.” Max’s smug face makes her pale. It’s never a good sign when he brings up that word.

“Winner gets to choose the order of out last names.” Charles demands. Another argument they’d been having recently.

“What about me?! I’m the one who’s carrying the baby!”

“You can choose where yours goes no matter who wins.”

“Sounds fair to me.” She smiles with satisfaction. At least she knows there is an ungodly amount of good sex coming her way.

~

Three months of trying. She was sore after every race. not for the reasons of her lovers. But because of what they to do her. their competitive spits had yet to falter. Much to her benefit and pleasure.

Six months of trying and she was starting to lose confidence in herself. Her doctor said she’s fine, but it doesn’t stop the stupid thoughts because all three of them want this entirely to much.

A year and she’s given up on thinking about it. They are obviously still trying, but it’s not something that she talks about much anymore. She knows that it takes longer for some and she’s okay with that. She just avoids the subject as much as possible.

~

The night Max wins his second championship title is about how’d you expect it to be. Except for the part where him and Charles are in the corner with the tiniest bit of alcohol in their drinks.

They eye her in that stupid dress she knows they love, dancing rather suggestively with Kika and Lily. She’d been staying away from alcohol as of late so they know she’s not even close to tipsy. Yet the look on her face as she dances could make anyone think she was.

‘I think we should get out of here before we do something stupid.” Suggests Charles without breaking his gaze.

“Like what?”

“Take here right here and now.”

The boys startle her as they drag her away from her friends. She hardly even registers they are in the car going to the hotel. “Did I do something wrong?” The sincerity in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Max leans down to whisper in her ear. “Just thinking about getting this dress off of you."

Charles runs his fingers along her thighs, causing her to shiver. His mouth finds the crook of her neck and lays gentle kisses down to her collar bone.

She feels for the taxi driver. The poor man is subjected to whatever is happening in his back seat.

"Gonna take you home and put a baby in you." The Monegasque moans into her skin. It was making her feel in a way that had her squeezing her legs together.

They continued riling her up the entire way back to their hotel room. Even getting hands in the elevator and in the hall, which was thankfully empty.

Max gets the door to the room open. Then, the two males waste no time litterally ripping the dress off of her. Her clothes are gone in seconds.

Their hands are everywhere she doesn't want them. She's left squirming beneath their hold. Pinned to the bed in a way that leaves her more vulnerable. Every peice of herself exposed to them.

And they know exactly what they're doing.

Max runs a single finger over her slit. "Look, Charlie, I think she wanted this."

"Already so wet for us chéri." Charles moves from where he was attacking her neck down to her tits and attacks them instead. His tongue doing a number on the sensitive area.

Max slips a finger inside of her. To slow for her liking. She tries to buck her hips to get more friction only for Max's unoccupied hand to put more wait on her hips. "This is what you get for teasing us in that dress."

"Mm Maxy, think about how she'd look in the dress all swollen with our child." Charles hands barey touch her stomach, and yet it still has her back arching.

Max jumps off of her and is immediately pulling Charles up with him. He gives her a pointed look and tells her to stay.

And then their hands explore each other. Peeling each piece of clothing off the other in record time.

"If you're trying to get me to cum now to you have an advantage, it's nit going to work." Charles says as Max rolls his eyes and stops any movement he was making.

"I have an idea." Max mumbles.

"That's never a good sign."

"Well fine! I guess you don't want to hear how we could make this even."

The female looks between the two bickering and is interested in what he has to say. But also scared. Scared the she won't be able to walk for a week.

And she's right because soon enough, she is lying back against Charles with his cock inside of her. She can't stop moaning as Max leans over the top of them.

Even. She officially hates that word. And yet here she is being turned on by the fact that both boys will be inside her at the same time. Fingers crossed, they don't rip her open in the process.

"You sure you wanna try this?" Max looks at her for approval, and even with her initial fear, she knows they would never hurt her.

"Just go slow, please."

Max starts slow. Charles bites into her shoulder at the friction of her and Max. She can feel all of his muscles tensing underneath her as Max takes his sweet time pushing into her.

It hurts. She knows it won't in a couple of minutes. But right now, the stretch if it all burns like white hot fire.

When both are in her, they take care to help her relax until her body adjusts to the size. They wipe away her tears as she sinks into their hold.

"So good for us, amour. Taking both of us so beautifully." Charles exhales a breathy moan as if to further prove his point.

"Fuck schat, you look so pretty taking us so well."

And then everything went fuzzy. The friction of the two males was too much. Moving in and out in tandem; perfectly in sync with each other. Her thoughts seemed to be replaced only with them. Their breathing, the sounds, the feeling of skin on skin.

"Dobyou want it, schat? You want us to put a baby in you?"

She can't actually speak properly, but there is definitely a yes that can be heard in her moans.

Their praises are only pushing her closer to her breaking point. "I'm- please- I can't."

She doesn't even have time to warn them. She can't warn them. She can't hear them either. Her nails are buried in their skin.

They spill into her simultaneously. Their bodies are perfectly connected with each other. It feels overwhelming and terribly beautiful. The feeling of them spilling inside of her at the same time.

When they come down from the high is the hard part. Max slides out first, and Charles follows, slowly and gently. They collapse in a heap of exhaustion. The emotional tie and physical tie completely took their energy.

"Do you think maybe this time...?" She trails. Her question weighs on them.

"In time, mon amour. We'll still be here even if it's not."

~

Summer break is a time to recuperate. The three of you are on summer vacation, spending time together on the beach.

That night had been a month a half ago. The female had yet to realize she was late to her cycle. Opting to ignore it and assume she's just messed up for some reason.

The second to last morning of their trip, she woke up feeling absolutely terrible.

She snuck out of bed as quickly as she could without waking the boys who are much heavier sleepers than her anyway.

The nausea feeling was overpowering, and it didn't matter how stealthy she was. They woke up to the sound of her spilling the contents of her stomach.

And then every day after the the point everyone is concerned.

Two months and still no period, she finds herself at the doctors. The boys are back to racing, but with her state, she decided to stay in Monaco.

A decision she was now regretting while having the test from the doctor in her hands.

She is definitely pregnant this time. The paper in her hands says it clear as day.

It is only Friday. She has time to get out to the race to surprise them. And with that idea floating in her head, she calls Pascale.

~

Her and Pascale arrived to the track fifteen minutes into the race. The older woman is making a fuss over her as she tries to jog to the redbull garage. She was in Ferrari last time, and Redbull is closer to her anyway.

Pascale shakes her head as she watches the female slip into hospitality.

~

Max and Charles both made podium. She was absolutely ecstatic and even more so that Christian helped her get to where they would park.

They didn't notice her at first, even doing a double take at her and then each other. Then, with their helmets off, they ran to great her.

Their smiles were so big that she thought they might fall off.

They both attempted to embrace her through the divider, and she was able to slip her test results into the hand of Charles.

They looked at her skeptically before once again, having to leave her.

It wasn't until the cooldown room that they had a chance to look. Charles tentatively unfolds the paper and holds it out on front of him and Max.

The cameras got a lovely picture of the two hugging very tightly despite being 'rivals', and the happy tears from Charles could be made out even through the sweat.

Did it have people looking at the scene a little funny? Yes. She could hear the gasps of disapproval, but she didn't care. The teams know already and gave them the go-ahead over a year ago to make the relationship public.

She watches them with love and adoration.

~

"Definitely mine."

"No way! The baby will look like me!"

She rolls her eyes at the two. "Does it matter?" They look at her with mouths agape.

She is actively holding the paper that determines who wins. The paper that will tell them who the biological father is.

And she rips it.

Because no matter what, they are a family. The boys are looking at her endearingly despite the fact that she just took away their results. Because it doesn't matter. They are making their own little family and they couldn't be happier.

So, the argument of the last name order continues one.

[goldfades]

Uconn wbb manager in a secret relationship with p!

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ─ UCONN WBB MANAGER

─ warnings | mention of flirting/banter, alluding to manager "coming off straight" (idk if that should be a warning but there ya go, take that as u want), friends to lovers, jealous!paige brief mention, arguments, nothing else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

okay okay this is gonna be a long one so strap in

paige would always be flirty af with manager, like a little more than everyone else

like since the very beginning, freshman paige was down bad for manager

i feel like manager would kind of just brush it off as paige being friendly cus in all honesty... she's kinda like that w everyone on the team???

so she just brushes it off and paige is confused on why she isn't getting it...

so paige being paige, she just assumes manager is straight and doesn't fw her like that

so she just settles with being manager's friend and eventually, best friend

there's always a lot of banter between you guys, like yall are always teasing each other and being all handsy with one another

i feel like the team would kinda suspect there's something going on with you two but they never say anything cus like i said, paige is kinda like that with everyone

however, paige doesn't ever hide her blatant attraction to u

she'll fr tell you straight up she thinks you're the sexiest girl in the world and has NOOO shame ab it either

so for a while, it's kinda like best friends... and maybe a little more??

the whole dynamic changes when she finds out you like women

she's like "the FUCK"

this happens toward the beginning of junior year (2022-23) and paige begins to kinda distance herself from you because her mind is just FUCKED

like she's so confused and rethinking everything

obviously, you notice and try to talk to her ab it and paige just brushes it off

MULTIPLE. TIMES.

and she confides in azzi and she's like "whats wrong w you... like GENUINELY"

your sadness just dissipated into anger and ur like "if paige wants to play this game i will to"

so you guys just get petty and ignore each other, much to everyone dismay

because if yall are beefing, the entire team is in shambles😭

but when paige gets injured, all that pettiness just gets thrown out the window

you were there for her the ENTIRE time, from the second it happened til she started playing again

when it happened, obviously paige was just very distraught and not like herself

she would just not talk to anyone and spend all her time going to classes then back at her dorm

at first, she just will ignore your presence

unfortunately p is just petty like that

but then she realizes she's literally being fucking stupid and she lets you hang out with her

slowly but surely everything is semi back to normal

UNTIL you bring up why she got distant all of a sudden

she just decided to rip the bandaid off and tell you the truth (which at this point, was just as confusing to her as it was to you)

she ended up telling you she was just confused about her feelings about you and she eventually tells you she had a mini-crush on you in freshman year

and the only reason why she never told you was because she thought you didn't like girls

and you were just confused like WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT

you guys just kind of have to sit with your feelings for a bit

(maybe a fic for that entire scene if yall want ??)

RELATIONSHIP

you and paige agreed to keep it to yourself because of two reasons

A. it would kinda throw off the dynamic of the entire team and B. wanting to explore the relationship first

it was really REALLY fun for paige, like she was having the time of her life teasing you while no one really knows why (hope that makes sense)

she thinks its funny when she like openly flirts/is handsy with u and the team doesn't bat an eye because she's always done it, EXCEPT now she gets you all flustered

yes she does get an ego boost

however, her jealousy increased like 10x (and thats saying A LOT)

like she'll get annoyed at someone just for looking at manager a little suggestively, she gives them a dirty look and manager is just like "paige pls"

i feel like this would be the ultimate thing for paige, like she hates being with you and not being able to show you off

LOTS of arguments about that specifically

i can't really think of more rn, BUT TRUST I'LL YALL MORE CONTENT WHEN I DO

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[letorip]

tara carpenter hcs?

tara carpenter headcanons

so glad you all liked the headcanons i previously made and had a lot of fun doing, because it’s something i can do more frequently and consistently than my long form fics, which i promise i am hard at work doing. here are a few more :) also, kiss with a fist [ii] out soon

***also i wrote this and i think (?) i cooked? would you want this as an actual story at some point? cause i was doing this a bit lightheartedly and then i was like wait a minute- i usually struggle to think of plots but this came super free-flowing

tara wants absolutely nothing to do with you at first. she doesn’t trust easy, and some random kid chad met in class is not going to quickly break down that barrier, no matter how not-fugly you are

but chad feels like he can really trust you. you grow to become best friends over time, and he's still healing from ethan's betrayal.

even after you've won everyone else over in the group, tara is the stubborn one who refuses to acknowledge your presence

it all changes at a singular party. you stand up for a girl being screamed at by her boyfriend and shoved, and even though he tries to fight you, you don't budge

he's a massive guy on the football team, known around campus for being super jacked and picking fights, and though you wouldn't win in a million years and she can see you're scared, you don't move a damn inch from in between them

she doesn't say anything to you while it's happening or while anyone else is around, but when you're on the roof, after chad's come to help you, staring out into the city, she finds you alone against her better judgement, and asks if you're okay

you give her a weak smile, say "no," and she nods and just sits next to you for a while. you don't say anything either, but you appreciate it

tara slowly opens up to you more. she actually starts to listen when you speak, and what she finds is that you're so much smarter, and sweeter, than she realised. you share a lot of similar interests she had missed until that point, and you bring her a sense of peace and happiness, whenever she sees you

even though sam still struggles to see you as one of them, tara finds herself defending you now, and with it, realising she just might want you more than as her friend

she hasn't had a crush that intensely childlike since amber, and now that you're there, she's a bit apprehensive

but you're you, and things happen, and you kiss one night, over at her apartment, while you're watching a movie. you're both with your eyes locked on the screen, until the music swells and suddenly you're looking at each other. It happens so quickly but it feels so right.

when you ask her if she's okay with this and if she's comfortable, it makes her heart flutter in a way she doesn't feel she deserves

she's definitely apprehensive about letting your relationship grow. ghostface has brought her life a hell that she doesn't want you to experience it. but you remind her thousands of hells are worth it to be with her every day

you finally get together on a warm summer day, right after your semester has ended

now that tara's experienced a life with you, she's upset that she had to live a life before

she clings to your chest and loves to lay on top of you, on the sofa. she doesn't seem like she would be, but she's a massive cuddler. she didn't have much physical affection as a child, with her mom and sam being gone, and so she makes up for lost time by hugging or hand holding whenever she can

you guys have silly arguments, where it's clear neither of you are taking your side especially seriously, and you argue the most outrageous things. you'll make her laugh until there are tears in her eyes and then tackle her in a hug

whenever you're running late for morning classes, ninety-nine percent of the time, it's because tara begged you for five more minutes to cuddle in bed, or just straight-up wouldn't roll off you, even when you reminded her you had to go.

she's little spoon sized, but she actually loves being big spoon, because she'll squeeze you against her and hold you tight. when she wakes up in a cold sweat, having a nightmare about woodsboro, you're right there, peacefully sleeping, and it helps her calm down and ground herself

she had a thing for a while, about not wanting you to see the scars on her stomach. she thought they meant she was damaged, and tara insisted you guys fucked in the dark for a while, until you asked her directly about it one day, like the good communicator you are

tara tends to bury her head in the sand when it comes to being direct to talk to you about something, but you communicate well

upon explanation, you insist nothing could make her ugly to you. she cries when you say you'll love her no matter what, and you see her completely in the light. your look of awe at her beauty, and your tender fingers reaching out to brush against it, just make her fall even harder

idk what else to put, did i yap for a long time?

okay so i kind of want to make this a story now? would you be down

[halfvalid]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a live action Zoro smut where it's enemies to lovers (boy X girl). I don't mind how hardcore smut (18+?) but I would love if there was some tension (argument or fight!) 😁

speak teeth

ABOUT

| 18+ | smut | explicit |

alternate title: i need the lord

rating: explicit

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 4.9k

description: you and zoro have never gotten along. after a incident in town escaping from marines, you resolve to sort out your issues with unconventional means. (aka sex.)

tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, enemies to lovers, except it's more like frenemies to frenemies with benefits, kissing, kiss to distract trope, no use of “y/n”, reader calls zoro "roronoa", penis in vagina sex, creampie, pwp, cowgirl position

author’s note: thanks for the request! i kind of lost the plot on this one because i'm terrible at writing enemies-to-lovers and there's not much 'lovers' involved in this since i couldn't exactly fit that into a oneshot. hopefully you still like it anyway? i tried my best.

tags make it seem so much worse than it actually is.

Roronoa Zoro did not like you. 

The feeling was mutual, so you didn’t mind the fact, really. Zoro was annoying, with his three swords, and that stupid low voice, and how he never seemed interested in conversation unless it was either about alcohol or beating someone up. You were undoubtedly annoying to him for various reasons not so different in number to your own grievances of his personality. You two didn’t like each other. It was fine. It was normal. 

It was pissing off the rest of the Straw Hat crew. 

In your defense, you were never outwardly aggressive towards the man. You didn’t purposely exclude him from conversations or avoid looking at him if he dared haunt a room you were in with his presence. You just… didn’t speak to him unless spoken to. And maybe you had a tendency to roll your eyes or mutter some insults when he was talking, but it wasn’t that big of an issue. 

Zoro, on the other hand, was a master of discord. He’d killed and hunted so many people it only made sense for him to be, but it seemed he hadn’t skipped his lessons in petty fights either. Because he was bullheaded and a buzzkill and always opened his big mouth when you were around. Those sarcastic remarks of his were common, sure, but when you were in the room they were tenfold and laced with genuine venom. 

You weren’t sure who’d even started the strife between you two. It had been so long that you’d forgotten. While everyone else had seemingly bonded after your journey together, you and Zoro remained firmly in the stage you’d been while trapped in Buggy’s green room—antagonistic. Obviously you didn’t hate each other—when Zoro had nearly died to Mihawk, you hadn’t been happy—but you didn’t get along, and both of you were just fine with that arrangement. 

Nobody else was, though.

And so obviously you didn’t like it when Luffy announced, as you were docked, that you were assigned to scout the surrounding village together. Your lips twisted, but you refrained from saying anything up until Luffy finished his speech with: “And that’s the plan! Any objections?” 

There were head shakes from all around the deck of the Going Merry. You eyed Zoro in the very corner—his arms were crossed, and carefully he raised a hand, just barely lifting it into the air as he motioned. “Why is she coming with me?” 

You bit your tongue, suppressing the irritated sigh that threatened to escape. “Because,” Luffy said, bright as ever, “You two need to learn how to be friends. Think of it as a bonding activity!” 

“I’d really rather go with Sanji,” you optioned, trying to be more civil than Zoro at least. “He could use a hand carrying the stock barrels.” 

“Nope,” Luffy chirped. “It makes most sense for the two of you to be the one to buy the weapons, anyway.” 

“He’s right. You both are the most knowledgeable on the subject,” Nami whispered, though she gave you an apologetic look. You sighed. Zoro opted to say nothing. 

“Fine. Let’s go, Roronoa,” you said, getting up off the Going Merry’s railing to start walking off the ship. You heard Zoro grumble from behind you, but he soon caught up. You said absolutely nothing to each other for the first few minutes of walking, keeping to yourselves until you eventually reached the market. 

“What kind of weapons are we looking for?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at the man who trailed just barely behind you. “I know Luffy wants backups, but did he say specifically what?” 

“Probably a few guns, maybe some swords,” Zoro replied. “A katana for me. Extra staff for Nami, in case hers breaks.” 

“Right. Nami gave me five-hundred thousand berry. Let’s spend it wisely. No pit stops.” 

Zoro gave you a look. “It’s not like I’m going to slip into the nearest tavern and abandon you. Luffy said we go together, so we go together.” 

“Right.” You turned away so you could roll your eyes in private. You had to appreciate that, at least; Zoro’s loyalty to Luffy at least meant he wouldn’t be a bitch to you if Luffy told him not to, and Nami kept you more or less under wraps too. “Pistols first. Let’s just get two, and save the rest for a sword because those are more pricey.” 

Focusing on business was fine. You could be a responsible adult and not be petty. And it really did go okay for the first half-hour, wherein you bartered one of the weapons sellers down to a reasonable price for two pistols and also picked up a bo staff on the way.

You were just heading towards another district of the town when Zoro slowed to a stop. You glanced over to see what he was looking at—a wall pasted with bounty posters, various pirates plastered on paper with big numbers shouting out their worth. 

“Look, it’s Luffy,” you said, eyes catching a bundle of posters near the top. Sure enough, all six members of the Straw Hat crew were there. You noticed with distaste that Zoro’s bounty was higher than yours.

Zoro tore all of the posters off, and you were almost surprised when he took yours off too. He crumpled them up into balls, about to toss them behind his shoulder before you grabbed them, carefully tucking them away in your bag. “What’s that for?” he asked. 

“So I can shoot darts at your face,” you replied. “Come on. Should finish and get back to the ship before anyone recognizes us.” 

Zoro shrugged, but followed you as you led him to the closest armory you could find. The shop was small and rickety, and a silver bell announced your presence as you entered the building. There were blades of every kind in the shop; you could see a table of knives and daggers, along with a stand full of long swords by the front. Near the back, you glimpsed some hanging rapiers, and—

“Katanas,” Zoro muttered, pushing past you to slip to the back of the store. You sighed, but followed, glancing over the array of jians instead. Zoro was already picking one up and pulling it out of its sheath, checking the quality of the blade. 

“Don’t—” you hissed, and he glanced up at you, brow raised in question as he spun the blade around in his hand. “You’re going to knock something over.” 

Zoro sheathed the sword, a satisfying click filling the room with the motion. “Calm down.” 

“I am calm,” you snapped. “If you’d just stop stomping around with those big boots of yours, though—” 

Zoro looked far less affected by the entire ordeal than you did, and that pissed you off even more. Logically, you knew he didn’t show much emotion in general, and even his annoyances tended to be deep and quiet—but still. He strung the katana back up where it belonged. “I am not stomping.” 

“Yes, you are—” You cut yourself off as the bell of the store rang again, announcing the arrival of more patrons. These two were whispering to each other, gruff voices that sounded almost scared. “He came in here, right?” One of them asked the other. “Are you sure it’s him?” 

“He tore down his own wanted poster!” The other hissed back. 

You caught onto what was happening quickly, letting a sigh out from between your teeth and grabbing onto Zoro’s arm to yank him further back into the store. You turned a corner, where a narrow hall cut off at a dead end, a wardrobe of swords blocking off the area to any prying eyes. “Now look at what you did,” you grumbled, before you could stop yourself. “You’ve got fucking bounty hunters after us.” You glanced through the stands of swords for a double take—the pair were standing at the front, outfitted in familiar white-and-blue uniforms. “Scratch that, even worse. Marines.” 

“I can take them in a fight,” Zoro muttered, hand going to his swords. You grabbed his wrist and gave him a look. 

“No. We’re not due to leave the docks for another two days,” you snapped. “Can you figure out a way to get out of a situation without stabbing someone?” 

“How can you be sure it was him, though? The Demon?” The more timid marine asked. They’d started moving, and you shoved Zoro into the corner, attempting to hide his ridiculously broad figure with an armoire of weapons. He scoffed, but made no move to adjust, back flat against the wall.

“He had the three swords. And the three earrings, too. Of course it was him,” the other one replied. You rolled your eyes. 

“Ever try being a little less obvious, Roronoa?” you muttered, shooting another glare in Zoro’s direction. “You’re like a flashing red light for every marine within a two-mile radius with your stupid swords. I’m Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter!” 

“I don’t hear you yelling at Luffy to take his hat off,” Zoro hissed back. 

“They’re coming this way,” you answered, entirely ignoring his retort. “Hide your stupid swords. Shove them behind a stand or something.” 

“I don’t see why we can’t just—” 

“No fighting.” You swiveled around, tugging his holsters off his belt and tossing the swords behind him with a graceless clatter. Zoro just sighed. “Shit,” you muttered as the marines turned at the noise, starting to move towards the back of the store.

“Now look at what you did,” Zoro mumbled, mocking your words straight back at you. You glared at him. 

“Shut up and stay put,” you snapped. “Let me think of something.” The marines were coming closer, and you huffed out a nervous breath. Zoro watched you from his position. 

“They know your face, too,” he said carefully. Almost derisively, like he was looking down on your idea; making you seem stupid. “Just let me fight them. It makes the most sense.” The footsteps grew louder, then, the marines moving towards the back of the store. 

“I think I heard voices,” one of them muttered to the other. You shushed Zoro, unconsciously moving closer to him until your arm bumped into his. You startled, and then looked up, finding Zoro’s chest just inches away from your face. 

“Is this some new sort of hiding tactic?” Zoro asked, voice dry as a desert. “Are you trying to melt us into the wall—” 

The voices tapered off as the marines moved closer. Your hand shot up to cradle Zoro’s face, covering his dangling gold earrings with your fingers to hide them away. “Fuck this,” Zoro muttered, leaning back to pick up his swords. You shushed him, and he stopped, bent halfway over you so your faces were just inches apart. 

“Just trust me,” you snapped. Zoro opened his mouth to argue, but then the marines’ footsteps got louder—they’d turn the corner any moment now. 

“Fine,” he breathed. “But if it doesn’t work, I’m taking out my swords.” 

Your mind ran a million miles a minute trying to figure out what to do. The marines were just around the corner now, and your breath caught, eyes meeting Zoro’s as you wracked your brain for something, anything that might distract the marines away from the two of you. Zoro’s lips parted, a split-second away from undoubtedly whispering some grand insult when the marines finally turned the corner.

You were kissing Zoro before you could even think. 

“Oh,” one of the marines said, as your fingers nearly pinched Zoro’s earlobe, still covering his earrings. Zoro was frozen for a moment, but the marines behind you seemed startled enough that he realized it was working. A rush of satisfaction filled you for a moment—see, Roronoa, you don’t have to stab shit all the time—before Zoro was kissing you back.

And. Well. You’d started it, but you had not anticipated this. 

Zoro was almost rough, his hand curling around the nape of your neck and tugging you down closer to him. His other hand came to rest on your waist, so impossibly big around your torso that you shivered. What had started out as a simple kiss slipped into one all messy, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps as Zoro barely gave you a moment to breathe. 

His teeth dug into your lip, and you groaned into his mouth, tongue darting along his gums with the motion. He snickered at that, and you felt a little bundle of vexation starting at the pit of stomach at the sound. You ran your tongue into the crevices of his mouth, licking into him with ease. Another rush of satisfaction filled you as Zoro’s grip tightened on your waist. You were winning.

He fought back just as hard, practically merciless as his tongue slid against yours, prying into your mouth like he was trying to bare you empty of secrets. You felt stripped raw like this, but it wasn’t a terrible feeling—the opposite, actually, soft whimpers leaving your lungs as he dug more fiercely into you. Zoro sucked on your lower lip with teeth, and you barely managed to suppress the stuttered sound it tugged out from the back of your throat. 

There were hasty footsteps receding somewhere behind you, which was the only sound that snapped you out of your motions. You were the first to break away—another score gained there—glancing over your shoulder to ensure the marines had really left before fully detaching yourself from Zoro. The silver bell rung again, signaling the marines had made their exit, and you let out a relieved sigh. 

Zoro glanced over your shoulder, straightening his clothes as his tongue ran along his top teeth. The top teeth you’d had your tongue on just seconds ago. “If you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.” 

“I did not—” You sucked in a breath, all your general irritated feelings towards the man coming back at full force with just that one sentence. “Shut the fuck up. I got us out of the situation, didn’t I?” 

“You have questionable methods,” Zoro replied, leaning over to pick up his abandoned swords and strap them back along his hip. “Don’t think about that all night.” 

“You were not that good of a kisser,” you snapped, though you could feel your face getting hot. Your mouth tingled, like you could still taste him on your tongue; on your teeth; in your gums. There was a vaguely empty sensation at the curve of your waist you tried your best to ignore. “Don’t be so full of yourself. Roronoa. Now pick a sword to buy so we can leave already.”

Zoro seemed irritated, but he complied, brushing past you to inspect a few more of the swords before picking out one. You paid for it as quickly as possible, in a rush to get back to the ship; not even trying to talk the salesman down from his price like you usually would. 

Zoro followed you languidly, absolutely nothing urgent about his motions as you trailed after you back through the village. You wanted to uppercut him so badly. 

“Oh, there you guys are,” Usopp said upon stepping foot back onto the Going Merry. You shot him an apologetic smile before breezing past, beelining for your bedroom without a second thought. “Uh—okay! You good?” he called after you, but you were too far away to respond at this point. 

You slammed the door of your room shut upon entering, heaving out a breath of jumbled emotion all in one go. Fuck Roronoa Zoro and his three stupid swords and his three stupid earrings. He was the most lumbering, bullheaded oaf you’d ever had the displeasure of engaging with. 

He’d been a ridiculously good kisser. Now you hated him even more. 

You locked yourself in your room for the next four hours, busying yourself with various tasks whilst simultaneously seething over Zoro. It wasn’t even that he’d done anything specifically to you in the past. You just—didn’t get along, really. He was irritating, and stupid, and always tried to solve his problems with a blade rather than attempting to use his wits. Not that he had any wits of any kind. He was—

He was, as you were starting to find out, kind of attractive. Which. Okay. You’d known his face was at least easy on the eyes, despite his personality and general attitude not retaining the same qualities. But this was an entirely unappreciated development. 

Someone knocked on your door, snapping you out of your irritated haze. The sun had nearly set, a kiss of dusk coming in from outside as you shuffled over to the door. You yanked it open. “What—”

Zoro was standing in the doorway, arm propped against the side and keeping your door open even as you attempted to close it on him. “Roronoa.” 

“You’re hiding,” Zoro said, a tinge of mirth just barely visible in his eyes. You glared at him. 

“I am not.” 

“Do you have to disagree with everything I say?” Zoro asked. He was still wearing his swords even now, though he’d dressed down as the hour grew late. “You skipped dinner.” 

“Leave me alone,” you muttered. 

Zoro took that as an invitation to step fully into the room. “I told the rest of the crew about the marines,” he said, and you flinched. “Not about that. Just that we got away. Nami wants to leave tomorrow evening now, so we’ll be busy.” 

You stared at him, suspicious right from the start. “And you care enough to tell me? Did someone put you up to this?” 

Zoro stiffened. “I just thought you might want to know.” 

Your eyes narrowed. He looked as normal as ever—face blank, leaving no expression to be seen. But his muscles were tenser than usual, and the veins running up his arm were prominent, like his hand was tightened into a fist where it hid away in his pocket. “You have ulterior motives.”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoro muttered, but he didn’t budge. You scoffed. 

“What, are you here to admit that you were wrong and my plan really did get us away from the marines?” you asked, voice sugary sweet as you riled him up. His jaw clenched, a vein tracing up his neck bulging with the pressure. “You don’t need to inflate my ego—”

Zoro moved across the room swiftly, and you stumbled back in surprise as he pinned you to the wall, hand tight around your arm. Your words died in your throat as his lips sealed over yours with a bruising kiss. His fingers dug into the skin of your bicep—tight, but not tight enough to hurt. 

“I don’t need to inflate your ego,” Zoro snapped, finishing your sentence from where it’d died on your lips. “You do that enough yourself.” 

You stared at him, the tingle of his lips still left as an afterthought on your mouth. “If you’re going to make out with me, take your fucking swords off.” 

Zoro barely suppressed an eye roll, hands working at his belt to slide his holsters off from his hip. “What’s your problem with them?” 

“I think your emotional dependency on a bunch of oversized butter knifes—”

Zoro’s head jerked up, eyes dark when they met yours. “Don’t call them that.” 

You couldn’t resist the quip off your tongue. “You asked.” 

Zoro slowly made his way across the room again, steps careful and languid as he moved closer. “I take it back,” he said, voice a near whisper, every word crisp on his tongue. You shivered. 

This time, you expected it when he kissed you. He wasn’t careful with it, and you didn’t want it any other way—your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, tugging him down closer to you. It got aggressive quick, his fingers coming down to clutch your waist, one of your hands tight around the locks of his hair as you pried open his mouth with your tongue. 

Neither of you complied easily, both trying to get the better of the other. Zoro’s tongue forced itself into your mouth before you tugged on his lower lip with teeth. Both his hands came to wrap around your waist, now, hoisting you up and onto your hanging bed in the center of the room. His fingers dug in hard enough to leave bruises. 

Zoro abandoned your mouth in favor of your neck, biting open-mouthed kisses into your jawline before moving down your jugular. Each one was more hasty than the last, wet and warm with licks of tongue and scrapes of teeth. You didn’t bother moving to give him better access—he had to do that himself, a large hand coming to rest on the back of your skull and pulling your head back to bare the rest of your neck to him. You heard him mutter something in Japanese—probably some obscenity, which pleased you more than you’d like to admit. 

His kisses stopped at the hinge of your neck and shoulder, Zoro pausing to lean over and work his fingers up your spine. They danced over the clasp of your shirt, and you had to choke back a wry laugh, surprised. “I thought the Demon just took what he wanted,” you murmured. 

Zoro didn’t seem to like that. He started unfastening the buttons going down the back of your top. “At least I was polite enough to ask,” he muttered. 

“Just take my clothes off already,” you said, and he stopped his work, leaning back to glare into your eyes. You let out an annoyed sigh, and he rolled his eyes, going back to what he’d been doing. “Are we going to talk about it?” you asked, eyeing Zoro’s chest in front of you. 

You pressed a kiss to his neck, sucking at the skin before grazing it ever-so-slightly with your teeth. His throat hitched under your mouth. 

“Nope,” he grunted, finally unclasping the last button and pulling your top over your head. Since you didn’t have an issue with that arrangement, you didn’t say anything, even as Zoro practically shoved you flat on your back. 

“Rude,” you muttered. Zoro didn’t bother apologizing; he just leaned down to take your breast in his mouth, tongue circling around your nipple. You weren’t fast enough to suppress your gasp this time—a point in Zoro’s favor then, one you allowed with a bitter taste on your tongue. Zoro’s mouth formed a smile against your skin. You brought your knee up between his legs, shoving into his crotch in retaliation. 

“Stop,” Zoro hissed, the consonants of the words brushing across your skin when he spoke. You ignored him, and he let out a groan, hand clamping around your thigh to keep you from moving. “Do you have to be such a brat?” 

“I am not a brat.” You hooked your ankle around his, causing him to slip from where he lay suspended above you, mouths mashing in another too-aggressive facsimile of a kiss. “You’re just a gigantic manwhore with an overinflated ego.” 

“You did not just call me—” You shut him up with another kiss, teeth digging deep into the inner gums of his lip. You ran your hands up the sides of Zoro’s figure, trying your hardest to ignore the stiff muscles of his ribcage. He wasn’t that well-built. He wasn’t even that attractive, you tried to convince yourself. Still, you found the buttons of his shirt, trying to unfasten them quicker than Zoro had with yours. 

One of them caught, and Zoro had the audacity to laugh. You grumbled something incoherent under your breath, tugging his shirt off all the way and tossing it somewhere behind you. “Shut up.” 

“You’ve been the one complaining this entire time,” Zoro replied easily. He leaned down, tugging at your trousers to pull them off, pressing sloppy kisses down your torso now. You resisted the urge to say something in response, knowing it would just give him the satisfaction of being right. Were your points tied now? You couldn’t remember. 

Zoro had pulled your pants down to your knees by now, and you kicked them off all the way, watching as he pushed them off the bed and leaned down to work at the inward slope of your hip. You shivered, legs trembling as you felt your core grow tight, the cloth of your underwear already wet with anticipation. Seeing the ever-steadying tent in Zoro’s pants made you feel just a little bit better, and you were nice enough to let a stuttering moan out as his tongue licked down to the band of your panties. 

He pulled your underwear all the way off, then, but to your distaste completely ignored your fully exposed core to unbutton his own pants instead. “I hate you,” you muttered. 

Zoro stopped in the middle of what he was doing, pants halfway down his thighs and length already out. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, voice careful—you could still hear the mocking tone beyond the coolness of his voice, though, and your jaw clenched in irritation. “Did you want something?” 

“Yeah, for you to shut the fuck up.” You pushed yourself up by the elbows, grabbing one of Zoro’s arms and yanking him down onto the mattress. You used both hands to strip him of the last of his clothes—God, his legs were long—before returning to press your own open-mouthed bruises along his neck. His hips bucked up against yours, insistently chasing any friction, but you tightened a grip on his thigh to get him to stop. “Give me a second.” 

“I don’t like that I’m suddenly under you,” Zoro said drily, and you could feel the words as they formed in his throat, still biting hickeys into his skin. You rolled your eyes, lips disconnecting from skin with a dull pop.

“Deal with it, Roronoa. I’m not moving.” With that, you finally reached down to coax his legs apart, hovering your core over his hips as you lined your entrance up with his length. 

There was an audible hitch of breath on Zoro’s part as you sunk onto him. Point. 

One of his hands tangled in your hair when you started moving, the other coming to press on the small of your back as you worked yourself up and down around him. For the complaining he’d done about the position, he didn’t seem so bothered about it, pulling you into a rough kiss. 

You bit back with force, breath escaping you as your hips bucked against Zoro’s. The wet pool in your lower belly only grew stronger with every thrust, pressure building up inside of you as Zoro’s tongue ran across your teeth. You moaned freely now, too lost in the daze of your pleasure to remember to be annoying. Evidently Zoro felt the same way—he swallowed every one of your gasps up, grunting as you pulsed around him.

Your hips stuttered, thigh muscles contracting with the effort as you clenched down on Zoro. Still, you pushed through even as your muscles started to tire, encouraged by the deep, throaty sounds that escaped Zoro's lips between each kiss. He was big, filling you up damn near wholeheartedly, the crevices inside of you seeming to mould to his skin as you worked yourself on him.

Zoro started moving against you, and you gasped as his angle changed, somehow reaching farther in your body and causing tingles to erupt all along your skin. Your mind buzzed as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, core pulsing as you felt yourself come closer and closer to the edge. 

You came all at once, teeth biting down in Zoro’s mouth before you parted from him. You let out a gasping moan, attempting to toss your head back as stars burst across your vision. Zoro’s hand in your hair dragged you back into a kiss, though; this one was slower, less teeth this time, like him coming had lessened the urge to bite. 

Your movements slowed, coming to rest against Zoro’s skin, warm and—although you wouldn’t say so out loud—almost comfortable. His hand hadn’t budged from where it was pressed against your lower back, holding you tight to him. 

There was a sticky wetness spreading fast by your thighs, and you grimaced, lifting yourself off of Zoro and rolling beside him on your back in one fluid motion. He stifled a groan at the movement, clearly irritated at the fact you hadn’t given any warning. 

You lay there, breath heaving, rising out your high and making no move to touch the man laying by your side. 

After you’d regained some of your dignity, you sat up, eyes narrowing at Zoro. “Get off my bed.” 

Zoro gave you an exasperated look, but he didn’t argue; he just climbed off your bed, retrieving his clothes from where you’d tossed them about the room. He donned them slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Your eyes traced along his figure while he did, and you only felt sort of annoyed by it. 

“I still hate you,” you snapped, after he’d finished changing. Zoro just scoffed, picking up his swords and slinging them across one shoulder. You could see a bruise purpling by his neck. At least you’d done damage. 

“Fine by me,” he replied, straightening his shirt and giving you a look—not quite irritated, not quite sarcastic. “Dinner’s still waiting for you.” 

You glared at his back as he opened the door to your bedroom. “Get lost, Roronoa,” you said, and that was that. 

© halfvalid 2023

[queenimmadolla]

Summary: After making a scene and storming out of Eddie's trailer, you're left to wonder if you even have a boyfriend anymore, since he hasn't spoken to you in three days.

a/n: congratulations. you bitches wore me down. you all know how much i HATE angst with no happy endings so enjoy me fixing it.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

word count: 3.3k

  It’d been days since the fight in Eddie’s trailer. Days.

  You were mad as hell when you’d left, so mad you almost appeared calm. You’d angrily cried on the drive back home, hot tears leaking steadily past your lashes as you scowled and you were sure they left a trail of mascara behind.

  You’d dodged your mother when you got home, unwilling to face the barrage of questions she’d  send your way that would no doubt trigger a breakdown. The last thing you needed was anyone asking if you were okay.

  Besides, you thought you’d be fine. Eddie would get the point, come to his senses and be at your front door a little past dinner to apologize for hurting your feelings.

  You’d composed yourself to the best of your ability while you ate, forking the food on your plate down with the excuse of having not had lunch when your mother started questioning you and then hurried back upstairs to your room.

  Your landline was plucked from its place on your nightstand drawer and set on your bed in front of you. When half an hour passed, you assumed Eddie was still wrestling with his pride. When half an hour turned into an hour and a half, you started wondering if maybe he was still cooling down from the argument. He’d call.

  By 2 a.m., the tears were back and speeding effortlessly from the corners of your eyes, down the bridge of your nose to meet your pillowcase as you realized he wasn’t going to call.

  He didn’t call the next day, either. Or the day after that. 

  The two of you weren’t in school anymore, so you couldn’t track him down in the halls but you didn’t want to go find him. You wanted him to come find you, you wanted him to chase after you when you left his trailer, you wanted him to call you and tell you he loved you and you wanted him to not bring girls who wanted him the way you did over to his trailer. 

  You wanted Eddie. But you wouldn’t go crawling back, your heart may have been wailing in agony but your pride was howling at you, wounded and bleeding.

  Were you broken up? You hadn’t intended for your exit to be the end, but by day three, you were starting to get the feeling it was over.

  And despite how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t rot in bed. You had responsibilities, a job. You’d called into the arcade the first two days but you couldn’t put it off forever, couldn’t avoid leaving your house because you feared running into Eddie.

  Yes, you were desperate to see him, but under your specific conditions. What if you ran into him and he confirmed the two of you were over? What if he was with that girl you’d seen leaving the trailer? He said he’d given her a deal for flirting with him, had it progressed? Was he rebounding?

  The more you thought about it, the more sad you got. Samantha Stone, your former lab partner and current co-worker had stepped in to awkwardly comfort you when you kept dipping into the back room to cry and eventually sent you home with the promise she could handle the riveting crowd of three plaguing the arcade.

  You’d kicked off your shoes and thrown your bag onto the floor the moment you got into your room, but you hadn’t changed, just fell face first onto your bed as your tears mingled with your comforter.

  And that’s how you found yourself thinking about how long it had been since that damn fight. Maybe you were overreacting. Sure, Eddie had been a little intimidating in high school, but he’d also had no trouble in the romance department. He’d told you he’d been cynical about it, since it never went beyond sex, but he’d also said that had been before you had looked twice at him. 

  Unfortunately for you, the stupid ass curse that comes with having a boyfriend struck you. Now that Eddie had a girlfriend, all of a sudden he was a wanted man, even more so than he had been in the past.

  You’d seen girls overstep, had been waiting for him in the van during a deal while you watched one reach a hand out to caress his arm and it had taken everything in you to not storm out of the van to tear the offending appendage off and beat her silly with it.

  Maybe you really were just blowing things out of proportion because of your jealousy. Maybe you owed Eddie the apology. Would he even accept your apology? It had been days, after all. Maybe he’d take you back if you groveled. Tears were a no brainer, you were pretty emotional and aware you were in a somewhat manic state, so they’d come the moment you caught sight of him again. Your feelings, your love for him, and this stupid mess would overwhelm you.

  You glanced at your phone, still poised on your bed and taunting you without a single ring. Your mother would have mentioned it if he called. He hadn’t.

  You wanted Eddie.

  That singular sentence plagued you, wrapping around your heart over and over again, constricting like a boa until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were about to have a heart attack. You could hear the loud and insistent banging that was your heartbeat, beating in time with your much too fast breaths.

  Eddie was the last thing you thought of before you shut down, body allowing exhaustion to overcome you to stop your impending panic attack.

  You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, eyes prying open to your room shrouded in darkness. A lazy glance at the window confirmed night had fallen and you sagged further into your bedding, sighing when you remembered you’d fallen asleep in your work uniform which meant you couldn’t slip back under the veil of rest and peace until you’d gotten out of it.

  You sat up, fingers gripping onto the hem of your shirt to lift it. 

  A flash of movement at the foot of your bed caught your attention just before you raised your shirt over your head and you nearly had a heart attack as you fell back, quickly reaching for your lamp.

  The warm glow of it illuminated the room and revealed Eddie standing near the foot of your bed, hands up to show he meant no harm.

  “Sorry,” he gave a brief huff of laughter, mouth pulled into a nervous smile, “didn’t mean to scare you. Your mom let me in.”

  Your heart calmed instantly at the sight of him, but your anxiety made its presence known, sinking into your belly.

  He’s here to break up with you, it whispered.

  You pulled your shirt back down, smoothing it out to give you something to do. Suddenly, you were incapable of words, nonverbal as your mouth refused to part. Your heart had won the battle with your pride and was desperate to beg him to forgive you for overreacting, would say anything to get him to hold you but you were paralyzed.

  Eddie cleared his throat, a hand reaching up to scratch his head before he sat down on the edge of your bed and you took him in.

  The most apparent difference in his appearance was the dullness of his eyes and the bags under them. Eddie was usually so full of life, an eccentric being buzzing with a sort of energy at all times, even when he was pretending to be the cool, collected bad boy. Now, he looked tired. And he had a light dusting of scruff on his jaw and cheeks.

  Eddie never had facial hair. Hated it. He’d tried it out once, he wasn’t fond of not being able to feel your kisses directly against his skin, and it made him itchy so it didn't last long.

  He shaved everyday to make sure he could feel your lips on him and the reminder made tears pool at your waterline once more.

  “Look, I─”

  “I’m sorry!” You rushed out, cutting him off as emotion muddled your voice and made your throat thick with it. The tears followed, just as you’d predicted they would when confronted by Eddie, “I’m so sorry, you were right, I was overreacting! I was just jealous, you can bring whoever you want to your trailer, I know it’s just business. I was just stupid and jealous and upset, you were right to not call me, and I’m sorry!”

  Eddie’s mouth parted, eyebrows rising in bewilderment.

  Then he was kicking off his shoes and climbing onto your bed, softly hushing you as he pulled you into his arms and you sobbed against his shirt, relieved to finally have Eddie back.

  You hadn’t thought he’d ever hold you again so you clung to him like a lifeline.

  Eddie held you tight, hand rubbing comfortingly over your back as he pressed kiss after kiss to your head and nuzzled his face there, trying to make sense of what was happening.

  After you’d left, he’d trashed his room. Well, more so than its usual state. He’d wanted you to come right back after you stormed out, was hoping you would—but like an idiot, Eddie just stared at the door as his mind replayed the entire conversation, emphasizing the moment he’d crossed the line. By the time he finally snapped out of his stupor and ran out after you, you were gone.

  Eddie was frustrated with himself, so he took it out on his room. When that was done, he’d grabbed a beer from the fridge, a joint from his stash and got crossed on the couch out front as he thought about the fight.

  He had no interest in anyone who wasn’t you. None. And for some reason, you didn’t understand just how much he loved you, how not a singular fucking person on this giant rock could compare to you. Not Cindy Crawford, not Pam Grier, not Irene Cara, not a single member of Metallica, no one.

  You were Eddie’s favorite person. You were his person.

  And he made you feel like shit. The longer he thought about it, the guiltier he felt. It was easy to write off your behavior as jealousy, but your jealousy hadn’t been unwarranted.

  He couldn’t see the big deal about having her pick up weed from his place since she’d phoned to let him know she was already in the area, but when he imagined some random guy coming out of your home, you walking him out?

  Eddie saw red. The thought alone knocked the air out of him and it was a feeling he was keen to not experience.

  But you had. And instead of just owning up to his slip of the mind, he’d stuck to his guns and had promptly shot himself in the metaphorical foot, not before hurting you. You were upset, and you lashed out when you got like that. Eddie had realized a long time ago that you only made digs like that because you wanted him to tell you you were wrong without having to ask him.

  Only, Eddie hadn’t told you that no, he didn’t give her a deal for being ‘pretty and flirty’ as you’d accused. She had been flirty—yes, he felt even more guilty when he thought about it—but he’d been blunt and brief, exchanging the bag of nugs for cash before he was sending her back the way she came. You’d just been on the other side of the door when he’d opened it for her to leave.

  It looked fucking terrible. How the hell was he supposed to make this up to you??? He’d spent the remainder of the night lingering near the phone, picking it up and then putting it back on the receiver. Nothing he could think of was a worthy enough apology for you, and he assumed you didn’t even want to see him. Fuck, you’d been so upset.

  He ended up passing out on the couch.

  The next few days went the same, he tried to figure out what to say, how to to explain himself and dove for the phone anytime it rang. It was never you, but of course it was when Eddie was desperate to hear your voice on the other end of the line that all his usual customers had run out of weed and other things.

  And she had called. 

  Eddie wasn’t stupid, she’d smoked with him and a group of friends at a party once, she hacked up her lungs and coughed herself into delirium after one pull; there was no way she’d finished what Eddie had supplied to her that quickly. It certainly didn’t help that she knew Eddie had you, and she still kept up the flirting. You were right, Eddie knew what she was trying to do and he was a shit boyfriend for not turning her down outright. Eddie had nipped that problem in the bud over the phone.

  In his desperation, he’d done multiple drives by the arcade, too. You were never behind the counter, only that gothic chick that liked to curse people was.

  He got anxious fast, hoping like hell that you hadn’t broken up with him. When it became too much for Eddie, who missed seeing your beautiful face, he caved in and drove to your house, despite the fact that you might not want to see him. When your mom let him in instead of throwing pots and pans at him like he’d imagined she would, Eddie figured you hadn’t told her about the fight which gave him hope.

  Maybe you did still want him.

  There was no light under your bedroom door and when he knocked you hadn’t answered but Eddie walked in anyways, heart clenching at the sight of you sprawled on your bed asleep.

  God, how he’d missed you.

  Eddie found himself blinking back tears as he stared down at you. It was selfish of him, but he really wanted to wake you up, touch you, hold you, kiss you.

  And then he realized he was at your house uninvited, in your room, watching you while you slept. Could he get any fucking creepier? Jesus…

  Eddie had been in the middle of pacing a circle in your carpet, trying to play out how this conversation would go when you stirred and he froze.

  Then you sat up and he got a little excited when you started taking your shirt off, but Eddie was aware of how bad this could go if he didn’t announce his presence.

  You hadn’t started yelling at him like he expected, no. What you did was worse. You were apologizing. 

  He’d been inconsiderate, he’d put himself in a situation that would look bad to literally anyone who saw him knowing he was in a relationship, had hurt your feelings—even more so because you’d apparently been waiting for him, wanting him this whole time and he’d just been holed up in the trailer, phone in hand but never dialing. 

  “Baby,” he mumbled against your head, leaning back and moving his hands to frame your face, thumbs wiping your tears away as he angled your head up at him so you could see the sincerity on his face, in his eyes, “you have nothing to be sorry for.”

  You hiccuped and started, “But I─”

  “Shh, no. Let me say this okay?” Eddie waited for you to nod and when you did, he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead and another to the tip of your nose.

  “You didn't overreact or do anything wrong, sweetheart. You were right. I knew exactly how she felt, and while I promise you I had no intentions of letting anything happen, I still shouldn’t have had her over. If the roles were reversed, I would’ve been jealous, mad, and really hurt. She called, tried to come over again and I told her I’m in love with you and I’m not interested in her. If she needs to replenish her supply, she’ll have to get it from Rick from now on. And I’ve never given her a deal. The only person who gets free weed is you, pretty girl.”

  You sniffled and his thumb stroked over your cheek once more. He added, “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings and I’m sorry I didn’t call. I wanted to, so badly, but I didn’t know what to say or if you even wanted me to. I've been dying to see you, drove past the arcade a ton of times just to see if I could get a glimpse of you—your coworker, the scary one, flipped me the bird whenever she saw me, by the way.”

  That got a laugh out of you and Eddie grinned victoriously, leaning in to nudge his nose against yours, “I love you. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” Your gaze dropped from his eyes, the brown in them now swirling with warmth, to his lips, “Can I kiss you?”

  “Oh, baby. You don’t ever have to ask.” Eddie didn’t wait for you to make the first move, closing the small distance to press a deep, chaste kiss to your lips. Once you were returning his kiss, he got a little more insistent, you realized this was Eddie’s way of asking for reassurance and you were more than willing to give it to him, parting your lips so your tongues could meet again.

  The two of you made out on your bed at a leisurely pace as you reaffirmed your love for each other. When things got heated, and you soon found yourself on your back with Eddie on top of you and between your legs, he pulled away from your mouth with a smack, and winced.

  “I really want to have makeup sex, baby, but I’m about to pass out. I haven’t been sleeping well.” Rarely has Eddie slept without you, add in you being upset with him and he could barely sleep at all. The last thing he wanted to do was pass out while he was inside you and leave you unsatisfied. 

  You laughed, pulling him down for another kiss, “That's okay. We can fuck in the morning.”

  Eddie let out the most pornographic moan at the mental image and you laughed again as you shushed him, “Eddie! My mom will hear you!”

  Reluctantly he rolled off you to undress, yanking off his pants while you shimmied out of yours, pulled your shirt off and discarded your bra. When Eddie yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it towards the ground, you’d intercepted it and pulled it over your own head.

  Eddie gave you a very appreciative onceover before he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will his hard-on away, “Down, boy.”

  You snuggled up to his side, and he pulled you into his arms, throwing your blanket over the both of you and letting out a sigh of content as you nuzzled your face into his neck, “Fuck, I missed this. Missed you.”

  “Missed you, too, Eds.”

  “Next time you get mad at me, I’m sitting on the hood of your car so you can’t leave.”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  “Or maybe you can just kick my ass instead of leaving.”

  “No, I like it too much.”

  Eddie’s chest shook with quiet laughter and you smiled, eyes fluttering shut. 

  This time, when sleep finally overcame you, your heart wasn’t in pain or beating loudly in your ears. It was nestled against you, and snoring into your hair. 

[strawbeerossi]

August || Chapter Three

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid, fem!reader x Emily Prentiss (it’s happening!!!)

Description: Spencer has taken notice of how close you are getting with Emily, causing a good amount of jealousy to flow through his veins. 

Content/Warnings: Flirting, arguments, Spencer and JJ are starting to crumble.

WC: 1.4K

I’m going to California tomorrow for a mini vacation so I wanted to make a post before I left. Next chapter will purely be reader x Emily with the way I have things planned.

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The conversation with Emily eased some pain in your chest. You weren’t alone, instead you had someone who you’ve known for ages directly telling you she’s going to stand behind you. 

You’d think that she would be forced to be unbiased, being unit chief as well as being friends with all three of the involved parties. Emily wasn’t always a rule follower though, everyone knew that. 

It was a month after the fact that you’d finally come to peace with the issues that you had with Spencer and JJ. You’d never be able to forgive them for that betrayal, however you were civil with them at work. It wasn’t a chore to have to sit in the same room as them. You thought that you might actually survive the whole ordeal. 

You moving on was a blessing to the team, the lack of tension and high emotions made working so much more comfortable. There were no sly comments, there were no exasperated expressions of frustration from someone saying the wrong thing. All was well. 

Spencer didn’t like that you were still avoiding him outside of the office but he had to come to terms with that on his own time. He expected things to get better, for the friendship to be mended. He didn’t get that lucky. 

It had gotten to the point that he lost himself in the efforts of making everything up to you by offering a healthy amount of distance, only being able to yearningly glance at you from the distance between you. 

All he wanted was to just force you to sit down and talk things out with him. 

While you were moving on in a healthy manner, he was festering in an ocean of self deprecation. The ultimate switch of your outward emotions became more obvious with each passing day. Instead of you being quiet and ignoring the world, it was Spencer. 

The old you would’ve felt bad and reached out as soon as he began acting like that. Now though? You felt.. Good when it came to seeing him miserable. He knew how bad he fucked himself over and you were basking in it. 

Revenge in the simple form of bettering yourself was just too sweet. It was better considering the work you put in was purely for yourself. 

The situation between JJ and Spencer was severely impacted, mainly because the former was so confused on why you were such a forefront after everything that went down between the both of you. In her mind, it made sense why you’d leave him alone, so why did he care? It wasn’t worth it.

Regardless, he wouldn’t take her advice.

Spencer had begun to notice that you were spending a lot more time in Emily’s office lately. He didn’t want to even think about what was going on behind that closed door, mainly because a pang of jealousy shot through his body every single time you took a file to her in order to discuss it.

Just like now, you were currently seated in Emily’s office, the both of you discussing a recent case and how you could approach writing your report. It was fully innocent, even if there was a lot of rumors about what was actually going on when you were alone.

“I appreciate you working with me on this.” You smiled while looking up at Emily, your cheek resting against the palm of your hand. You were spending quite a lot of time with her outside of the office too lately. She just knew how to make you feel better and you gave her credit for half of the reason you were doing much better.

“Don’t mention it. I’m happy you asked for help on it. Your reports before were..” She hissed in a playful tone. “Questionable.” She joked with you, causing your foot to gently kick hers under the table.

“They weren’t bad! I used to ask Rossi to look them over just to make sure they were good. Between you and me, I think I’ve been getting on his nerves so that’s why I came to you this time.”

Emily chuckled. “I’m a second option then. I’m hurt.” She sighed in a dramatic fashion, her hand against her chest.

“I saved the best for last.” You corrected, a smile gracing your features. You really felt drawn to Emily after all of her patience and help as of late. It was funny, you’d worked together all these years and didn’t manage to actually sit and get to know one another outside of your jobs. Maybe it was your undying love for Spencer that shielded you from fully expressing yourself to anyone else.

“You flatter me.” The raven haired woman mused while she was looking at her watch. “I’ll go ahead and keep this file since we are done. Wanna go out and pick up lunch with me?” She asked, an eyebrow raised. It was a quiet day, so it wouldn’t hurt to go out for an hour or so.

“Only if you’re buying.” You winked, pushing yourself to stand while the two of you were walking out of the office together. The minute the door was opened was when Spencer’s head immediately lifted from his assignment, landing on you and Emily as you both left the office together.

You’d briefly stopped to grab your bag before just continuing to follow the unit chief to the elevator.

“Guess they are going out again.” Tara commented while shaking her head with a smile. “I think it’s sweet.”

“What do you mean? This seems like a friendly interaction.” That pang of jealousy shot into Spencer's chest once again. 

“You’re joking, right? Do you see the way they look at each other? Hardly seems like a simple friendly interaction.” Luke commented from his desk, sipping from his coffee mug.”You haven’t noticed?”

“I don’t think you can determine anything other than friendship with just the way they look at one another. That seems a bit silly.” He commented once more as he shrugged, tapping the back of his pen against the desk.

“Why do you care?” JJ finally asked, her eyebrows raised in curiosity. “‘Cause it looks like to me that all this worrying is purely one sided.” For the first time since the incident, you weren’t the one causing all the tension. It was JJ.

“I care because she’s my friend. It’s not that I care about her and Emily anyway, I just wanted to inquire how they could be anything but friends.”

“Because you care. Spencer, she hasn’t spoken to you in a month. It’s safe to say that she isn’t your friend anymore. She isn’t interested in mending a friendship. So why don’t you just.. Stop being yourself for one minute and consider the other option.”

“I can’t just stop being myself. It’s all I know how to be.”

“But you can. You can stop showing the slightest bit of worry whenever she does so much as blink. She’s fine.” 

The bickering had everyone watching, enjoying the entertainment between the two people who were wrong in this whole situation. It was a shame that you were missing it.

“Are you two done?” Dave was asking from the doorway of his office, his arms crossed over his chest. His stance was reminiscent of a dad getting ready to scold his two fighting children. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that this bickering is ridiculous. You made your bed and now you have to lie in it, that’s all there is to say.” 

Spencer was falling silent again as he brought a hand up to rub his face. “I’ve done a lot of things wrong but me caring for her is certainly not one of them. I don’t deserve the privilege to have her in my life but I am never just gonna pretend like I don’t care.” He responded, making the blonde scoff.

“Right. You really showed how much you cared about her when you willingly got with me even after you had an inkling she had feelings for you. I was in the wrong too but that’s why I’m leaving her alone. You care so much for someone who you pushed away and made her feel so little care for you. Now she doesn’t even look at you. But sure, you care.”

JJ taking accountability was one thing but she knew she would never be able to force Spencer to. He was too stubborn and he wouldn’t believe that you were gone from him forever. Your friendship couldn’t be a lost cause. He knew there was a way to make things better. 

He could do that. 

He would do that.

[quarterlifecrisis-activated]

This line has haunted me for a while now. It was a line I overlooked but it still felt important. It’s not just about Zheng’s ship but piracy as a whole. Piracy in the show is a male dominated field run under toxic masculinity and pressures. Throughout season 1 the idea gets reinforced that piracy is just this way, and to survive and thrive you have to conform to its standards. Izzy and Calico Jack and even the Badminton twins have this firm idea of what piracy is and should be.

Let’s look at season 1 episode 1. Stede as captain and the Revenge as a whole is played as a joke pirate ship. We know that the crew is considered bottom of the barrel when it comes to what you would want for a bloodthirsty pirate horde. Throughout the season this is pointed out over and over again. Izzy says that they’re not real pirates and I agree. At least they’re not real pirates as set by the standard of piracy. The crew are kind, they do crafts and like to be read to. Pirates don’t have friends and they don’t make things they steal them. Pirates also don’t live long. Most of the pirates Ed knows are dead. Frankly, the only reason Ed, Izzy, Fang, and Ivan are probably still alive is because Blackbeard doesn’t actually have to do raids because everyone surrenders. I firmly believe that if Stede and the crew tried to be “real” pirates they would’ve all died. Stede is not a good pirate by the end of season 1. Honestly, I don’t really think he’s trying to be. He doesn’t actually want to be a pirate, I mean if you told that man that he’d be responsible for a pirate fleet he’d probably faint. By the end of season 1 you could make the argument that the way Stede runs his ship is not conducive to successful piracy. That is until you meet Zheng Yi Sao.

Needless to say that Zheng is the most successful pirate we’ve seen on the show. Her fleet is massive and she conquered China. She’s an amazing pirate and she also defies the standard for piracy set by season 1. Her crew of the Red Flag (much like the Revenge) have communal activities, good food, they’re open with each other. If being successful as a pirate means adhering to toxic ideals where you’re on your own and you have to stab each other in the back to survive, Zheng’s fleet should be like that. But it’s not. Because true success is not about if you can get the thing you want but how long you can hold onto it. The other way leads to death and mutiny because being individualistic means you cannot be loyal to anything but your own self interest. With how spread out Zheng’s fleet is it would be so easy for someone to mutiny and take some of her ships. We can see Zheng fosters a sense of camaraderie among her crew. Season 2 shows that the idea that piracy is mean and toxic because it has to be is wrong. I’m sure if they got a season 3 they’d further develop this point.

Notably, Zheng’s crew are mostly all women. Much like the Revenge, these crews are full of marginalized people. Historically, marginalized groups had to develop their own community because they were not getting support on their own. It’s also no surprise that the main advocates for the old way of piracy were white men. They were told that they could do whatever they wanted by themselves and that they didn’t need to rely on anyone. And that was true… until they couldn’t keep up and then they were chewed up and spit out. You don’t last long on your own.

That’s why Zheng is such a threat to Ricky. Not just because she has a large fleet but because she was organizing other pirates. One pirate can be stopped but all of them are too formidable. We see this in season 1 when Stede is about to be executed. Ed alone can’t stop it, even though he’s Blackbeard, but once the entire crew defends Stede things change. The system thrives on people standing alone because they’re easy to quash, but also who needs to worry about a jumpstart pirate captain because sooner or later they’ll be mutinied against. I think this is what Izzy comes to see throughout season 2 and informs his speech to Ricky. Maybe the real piracy was the collective action and community we made along the way.

Circling back to the quote that started this, men don’t fit in with Zheng’s crew because they were purposely fed the lie that reliance on each other and community building was weak and soft. They’d have to unpack the lie they’ve been fed their whole life. The crown and piracy are two sides of the same coin holding up the same status quo. But piracy is dying because it was never designed to last. The crew of the Revenge live against all odds because to them it’s not about piracy itself but community and family. And those ideas can’t be killed.

[stargirlo]

somber fem!reader

i just can imagine how much ur boyfie misses you after u two break up :(

he'll go to a seedy bar and drink up until he feels numb on his body, his musky colgone is now replaced with a reeking scent of jack daniels whiskey as he looks completely wasted. holding the whole bottle lazily on his hand before he pours himself another cup of the brown liquid onto the well designed glass cup.

he even babbles about you to the bartender, showing him a picture of yourself that he keeps in his wallet everyday. "you see this- *hic* fine babe? yeah- *hic* i-i lost her two days ago..." he slurred out, eyes dropping low as he looks like he was about to throw up. the only response the bartender could make is either awkwardly chuckling or just saying a small "aw..." because really, he doesn't have the time to have a therapy session with a drunkard.

"s-she like uh-... broke up with me for i don't know what reason, uhmmm- ugh, i miss her s'much..." he whines, acting like he was about to cry. he misses you, he really does. numbing all his pain away from endless amount of shots from the whiskey cup and just slurring out incoherent words that clearly don't make sense. someone comfort this man :(

but as he tips over the barstool, he finally manages to leave the bar and head over his car. murmuring incoherent words and stumbling over the pavement flooring before he finally slams his body against the car door. he struggles a little bit, letting out a strained groan as he sits down at the drivers seat. poor man is tired, and he feels so lonely without your presence beside the passenger seat. you were his passenger princess, and he can't seem to get over you.

he's acting like a total loser right now.

he takes out his wallet again, flipping it open to reveal the picture of you. you were peacefully sleeping on his bed, hair tousled around the plush pillows, and a little puddle of drool seeping into the pillow covers. he chuckles at the picture before it was replaced with silent cries, tears dripping down his cheeks as a few droplets drip down to his jeans. he can't believe he lost you, over god knows what argument you two had both had.

he misses you so much that while he was crying he could feel his cock throbbing against his jeans. he was craving your touch, the way your hand palms his cock and stroke him so deliberately and deliciously with such delicate hands. god he misses it.

so without further ado his cock already sprung free from its confines, one hand holding the wallet while the other worked its way down to stroke his cock. he felt so desperate that he spits on his cock as a use of a lubricant, letting out a throaty groan and string of whispers, talking to himself and praising himself as if you were still there with him. pathetic whimpers fill in the spacious car, the windows slightly fogging up as his vision was already at haze.

all that his mind was clouded of was with images of you.

he still feels empty, even if he's bringing himself close to an orgasm. but he tried, he really tried to think that you're the one stroking his cock instead of he himself. "g-god i... ugh- i miss you s'much baby, holy fuck- please come back..." he murmurs under his breath, jaw clenching as his eyebrows pinch together, letting go of his orgasm. it wasn't particularly the best he could've had but... at least it was something he could do while thinking about you.

but honestly, he just wishes you were there with him. he wishes he could go back in time and fix things properly instead of being put up into this situation. but i guess time will tell, and it's how god had written its story between you and him.

💌: gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento (who would break up with him?), hiromi higuruma, toji fushiguro (hear me out...), dazai osamu, odasaku, chuuya nakahara, manjiro sano, draken, rafe cameron, jj maybank, shinichiro sano, ++ your favs!!