#gender one shot

[itgetzweird08]

Part one

“..go out with me”

Your breathing hitched, indicating that you hadn’t been asleep all this time. You turned to face him then, flipping on your side in his bed to get a better look at his face. Even in the dark you could see the strong outline of his jaw and his messy blonde hair. He stared up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, and shrugged. “I mean, why not? We’re practically dating anyways” he followed up, vermillion eyes glancing down at you. “Any reason you’re asking me this now?” You whispered, moving slowly as you shifted closer to place your head on his chest.

This time, his breath stuttered.

Moving slowly, as if you were a flighty deer ready to run at any moment, he moved his hand from behind his head to on top of yours. His fingers gently played in your hair. He breathed a shaky breath, completely stripped of his usual hard shell. He was completely vulnerable to you in this moment. “When I was lying there on the battlefield..all I could think about was your stupid face.” He grimaced, stiffening a bit at the memory. You placed a hand on his chest, tracing circles with your thumb. He exhaled with a shaky breath. “I was bleeding out, all these fucking holes in me, and one of the only things I could think of was how angry I was at myself for not being able to man up and ask you out properly. I waited too long and everything’s a mess now. The city is a fucking wreck, we’re on lockdown..and I had a whole plan too. I was gonna take you to that noodle shop you like with the stupid name. And now I can’t, because it’s too late and now I might fucking die before I ever got the chance-“

You pressed a soft kiss to the new scar that peaked out from his black tank top, causing his words to get stuck in his throat.

“Take a breath..” you told him softly. He obeyed, breathing in air and blowing out his tension.

“It’s okay, B. You’re okay. I was mad too. I was so mad at myself for not being able to protect you when you got hurt, not being able to move a little bit faster and push you out of the way. I was mad that you might die before I got the chance to tell you how much I like you..” he smirked at your words, smug covering up his giddiness. “You like me?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and moving to shift away from him out of feigned annoyance. But he wrapped an arm around you waist and pulled you closer.

“I like you too nerd…a fuckton”

You couldn’t help but smile, sinking deeper into his hold as you breathed him in. And for a moment, you felt untouchable in here. Despite the looming threat of war, the scorching flames of the world outside, you were safe in his arms. You wished you could stay like this forever. A yawn left you as your eyes began to droop, and time seemed to come to a slow stop.

It was silent for a moment, as you both began to drift off before a question came into your mind. Despite your drowsy state, you couldn’t help but smile as you asked

“…so if you like me, does that mean you’ll admit that Oodles of Noodles is a fantastic name for a noodle shop-“

“Go to sleep, shithead.”

——————

Ps: im starting to do requests! So if you have an idea for me, go ahead and put it in my asks <3

[janiehellion]

Healing Touch

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HANDJOB / TEASING / EDGING / ORGASM DENIAL

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.033

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E05—ᴄʜᴜᴘᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴀ & S2E06—ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ

MASTERLIST

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.

Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.

"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"

Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."

"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"

Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."

You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."

You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.

Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.

"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."

As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."

"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."

As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.

"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."

You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."

She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.

You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.

"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."

You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."

You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."

"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."

You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.

"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"

"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."

Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."

"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.

"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."

You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."

He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."

"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.

You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."

You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.

"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"

Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."

You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."

"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."

You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."

"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.

You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."

Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."

You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."

There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.

You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"

Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."

You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"

"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.

Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."

You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."

As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.

Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.

"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.

You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."

He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.

His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.

You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.

"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"

But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.

"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.

You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.

You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.

As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.

You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."

He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"

You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"

"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.

"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.

You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.

Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…

You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."

"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.

You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.

"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."

"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."

"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.

His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.

"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."

He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.

"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"

You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."

With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.

"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.

"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"

You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."

You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.

Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!" 

He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.

You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.

With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.

And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...

"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.

His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."

He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"

"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."

Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.

"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"

God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...

You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."

You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.

By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.

"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."

You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."

With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.

"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."

He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.

"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."

"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.

He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"

He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.

"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."

Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.

"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."

"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.

You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema

[hoe4hotchner]

hii! i had a really troll thought and was wondering how hotch would respond to the reader just casually referring to him as a dilf. maybe they're just talking to the other members of the team and he happens to walk by and is just like 🤨 what did you just call me?

Hear me out! I'm a gremlin so what if we make it bearded Hotch 🤤. (Also tbh Jack not liking the beard was my 13th reason, I'm gonna beat that kid up)

Like ughh look at him 😍

"Penny, Penny! Have you seen Hotch today?" You practically drooled on the floor as you burst into her little tech-filled cave. Penelope was the only person in the entire office who could match your level of unhinged thoughts when it came to men, and you knew she’d never tease you for it.

Penelope grinned knowingly, keeping her secret that Hotch was quietly standing in the doorway behind you, having come in just after you.

"He looks so scrumptious today. What a total DILF."

"Excuse me? What did you just call me?" A deep voice resonated from behind. You spun around, eyes wide in horror, only to find your boss standing there with his arms crossed, an amused but questioning expression on his face.

"I... I—" You stammered, completely frozen in shock that he’d overheard you. "I'm so sorry, sir."

Penelope, ever the quick thinker, jumped in to try and save you. "What (Y/N) is trying to say is: keep the beard. It really suits you."

Hotch chuckled, his stern demeanor softening. "Well, Jack’s not a fan, so it’s going."

"NOOOO!" you yelped, louder than you intended, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth as your eyes widened in embarrassment. To your surprise, Hotch winked at you, clearly in a rare, playful mood.

brb, I became a little too much of a feral gremlin in the process. I'm gonna go dump my head in a bucket of ice.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Dangerous Woman

Mob Boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.9K

Summary: You're just a bartender until Natasha Romanoff walks into your life.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, alludes to sex, mentions of knives, mob life, mentions of vom*t

Authors notes: After making this moodboard I had this idea

You loved the rhythm of the restaurant’s evening rush. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter—it was a symphony that you had grown to cherish. As the bartender at one of the city’s most upscale establishments, you prided yourself on knowing the regulars, remembering their favorite drinks, and always being ready with a warm smile and a listening ear.

Tonight, the restaurant was especially busy. The soft glow of chandeliers cast a golden light over the elegantly dressed patrons, and the rich scent of gourmet dishes filled the air. You moved with practiced ease behind the bar, mixing cocktails, pouring wine, and engaging in light banter with the guests.

Your colleagues often joked about your ability to handle even the most demanding customers with grace. It was a skill that had earned you a reputation among the clientele and the respect of your fellow staff. But beneath your composed exterior, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was different. There was an electricity in the air, an anticipation that you couldn’t quite place.

As you polished a glass, your eyes drifted to the entrance just in time to see a striking woman step inside. She was tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that exuded sophistication and power. Her auburn hair was styled to perfection, and her sharp green eyes scanned the room with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Natasha Romanoff, you realized with a start. The name was whispered in certain circles with a mix of reverence and fear. She was the heiress to the infamous Red Guardian’s empire, known for her ruthless efficiency and unyielding control over her domain. You had never expected to see her in person, let alone at your bar.

Natasha’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before she made her way to a secluded table where a nervous-looking man awaited her. As she sat down, you couldn’t help but feel her eyes on you every so often, a piercing gaze that made your pulse quicken.

You tried to focus on your work, but your mind kept drifting back to her. What could bring someone like Natasha Romanoff here? And why did it feel like she was watching you so intently?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft chime from the bar. A customer was waiting. You turned your attention back to your duties, pushing aside the questions that swirled in your mind.

Time seemed to blur as the evening wore on. The restaurant’s ambiance, the steady stream of orders, and the occasional glance toward Natasha’s table kept you occupied. But you couldn’t ignore the growing sense of anticipation, the feeling that something significant was about to happen.

It wasn’t long before Natasha rose from her table, her conversation with the client seemingly concluded. She walked with an air of purpose toward the bar, her eyes locking onto yours. The room seemed to hush as she approached, the weight of her presence palpable.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice smooth and commanding. “I’d like your highest-priced bottle of red wine.”

You nodded, trying to steady your nerves as you reached for the exclusive bottle kept in the back for such occasions. “Of course, ma’am,” you replied, setting the bottle and a glass in front of her. “This is our finest vintage.”

Natasha’s lips curled into a faint smile as she watched you pour. “You have a good eye for quality,” she remarked, taking the glass and swirling the wine before taking a sip. “What’s your name?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. “It’s Y/N”

“Y/N,” she repeated, as if testing how it felt on her tongue. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m Natasha.”

The name sent a shiver down your spine. It confirmed what you had suspected, but there was a gentleness in her tone that caught you off guard. “Nice to meet you too, Natasha.”

She leaned closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me, Y/N, how does someone like you end up working in a place like this?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. “I enjoy meeting new people and making their nights a little brighter. Plus, I’ve always had a passion for mixing drinks.”

Natasha’s smile widened slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “A passion for mixing drinks and making people happy. That’s a rare combination.”

She took another sip of her wine, her gaze thoughtful. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other, Y/N.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say, but feeling a strange sense of anticipation. As Natasha returned to her table, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your life had just taken a turn, one that would lead you deeper into her world.

=========

And see her again you did. It didn't take long, in fact. As you walked back to your apartment after that fateful encounter, the night air was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the restaurant. The streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional pedestrian or car passing by. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, your thoughts lingering on the enigmatic woman who had unexpectedly captured your attention.

You were lost in your thoughts when you heard footsteps behind you, quickening in pace. Two men rounded the corner, their faces shadowed in the dim streetlights. They called out to you, their voices laced with a confidence you recognized all too well. Working as a bartender, you had grown accustomed to unwanted advances, even in the upscale environment of your workplace. The wealthy often believed their status and money could win you over, but they were always wrong.

One of the men stepped closer, his words slurred and suggestive. You stiffened, preparing yourself to handle the situation as you always did. But before you could speak, a familiar voice cut through the night.

"That's enough," Natasha's voice was cold and commanding, a dangerous edge to it that made the men freeze. She stepped out of the shadows, her presence immediately imposing.

The man who had been speaking turned to her, annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Listen, bitch, stay—" His words died in his throat as recognition dawned on his face. "The Red Guardian's daughter... The Black Widow..."

The name hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The color drained from the men's faces as they realized just who they were dealing with. Without another word, they turned and bolted, disappearing into the night as quickly as they had appeared.

Natasha watched them go, her expression unreadable. Then, she turned to you, her gaze softening. She closed the distance between you with a few quick strides, her cool hands gently cupping your cheeks. The touch was unexpected, but strangely comforting. You could still smell the faint scent of the wine she had sipped earlier, mingling with the subtle notes of mint that came off her. The combination made your head spin, your heart racing in your chest.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice softer now, laced with concern. Her thumbs gently brushed against your skin, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you."

Natasha’s eyes softened further, a small smile playing on her lips. "You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that," she murmured, her tone protective. "Let me walk you home."

It wasn’t a request; it was a gentle command, and you found yourself unable to refuse. There was something undeniably captivating about her, a mixture of strength and vulnerability that drew you in.

=======

Instead of Natasha walking you home, you found yourself in her sleek black car, the city lights fading behind you as she drove you out of the bustling downtown area. The ride was quiet, the air filled with an unspoken tension, your mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You tried to piece together the events that had led you here, but the answers eluded you. All you knew was that you were headed to Natasha Romanoff's home, and that fact alone left you both exhilarated and anxious.

The drive seemed to stretch on, each mile taking you further from the familiar streets you knew. Finally, the car slowed and turned onto a private driveway. You gazed out the window, your eyes widening as a grand mansion came into view, nestled amidst lush, manicured gardens. The imposing structure was a blend of modern and classic architecture, exuding an air of sophistication and power that mirrored Natasha herself.

As the car came to a stop, your breath hitched. The sheer size and elegance of the mansion made your jaw drop. It was a far cry from the modest apartment you called home. Natasha stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you with a small, reassuring smile. You stepped out, feeling the cool night air against your skin, and followed her up the grand steps to the entrance.

The door opened before you could reach for it, revealing a pair of neatly dressed maids who greeted Natasha with polite nods. They took her coat and scarf, their movements quick and efficient. Natasha slipped off her jacket, revealing the burgundy shirt she wore underneath. She loosened her tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her shirt, revealing a hint of her cleavage. The sight made your mouth and throat go dry, a sudden wave of heat rushing through you. The contrast between her commanding presence and the subtle glimpse of vulnerability left you speechless.

Natasha glanced over at you, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Welcome to my home," she said, her voice smooth and inviting. She gestured for you to follow her inside, her hand resting lightly on your lower back as she guided you through the grand foyer. The interior was just as impressive as the exterior—high ceilings, marble floors, and an array of tasteful art pieces adorning the walls. It was a place that spoke of wealth and status, yet felt oddly intimate.

As you walked further into the mansion, you noticed the staff bustling about, all moving with a quiet efficiency. It was clear that everything and everyone here existed to serve Natasha's needs and desires. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervousness, wondering how you had ended up in such a situation. It felt surreal, like you were living a dream—or perhaps a fantasy you hadn't even known you had.

Natasha led you into a cozy sitting room, its walls lined with bookshelves and soft, plush furniture. She motioned for you to sit on a comfortable sofa, then poured herself a glass of red wine from a decanter on a nearby table. She poured a second glass and handed it to you, her eyes never leaving yours. The gesture was both casual and intimate, a reminder of the connection that had sparked between you earlier in the evening.

As you took the glass, your fingers brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Natasha settled into an armchair across from you, her posture relaxed yet commanding. She took a sip of her wine, her gaze thoughtful.

"So," she began, her voice low and smooth. "How does it feel to be here, in my home?" There was a teasing glint in her eyes, but also a genuine curiosity.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "It's... breathtaking," you managed to say, your eyes flickering around the room before settling back on her. "I never expected to end up in a place like this. With you."

Natasha's lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I didn't expect it either," she admitted, her voice softening. "But here we are."

There was a pause, a charged silence that hung in the air between you. You felt the weight of the moment, the unspoken possibilities that seemed to shimmer in the space between you. Natasha's presence was intoxicating, her allure undeniable. As she studied you, you couldn’t help but wonder what she saw in you, and what she had planned for the night.

Before either of you could continue the conversation, the two of you were interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open. A blonde woman with a thick Russian accent burst into the den, her presence as commanding as Natasha's. Her eyes were a piercing blue, and she carried herself with a confidence that suggested she was no stranger to dangerous situations.

"Sestra! I took care of To—" she began, her voice trailing off as she noticed you sitting there. A look of surprise crossed her face, quickly followed by suspicion. Her eyes narrowed, scanning you with a critical gaze before she turned her attention back to Natasha. Her expression softened slightly, but a hint of curiosity remained.

"Сестра, кто это?" the blonde asked, her voice low and questioning.

Natasha glanced at you briefly, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile before she turned to address the woman. She responded in Russian, her tone calm and composed, "Это Y/N, одна из новых знакомых. Не волнуйся, всё под контролем." (This is Y/N, one of my new acquaintances. Don't worry, everything is under control.)

The blonde raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the situation. Her eyes flicked back to you, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "Знакомых, да?" (Acquaintances, huh?) she replied, her tone teasing yet inquisitive. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest. "Интересно. Очень интересно." (Interesting. Very interesting.)

Natasha chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Успокойся, Елена. Мы просто общаемся." (Calm down, Yelena. We're just communicating.) She turned to you, switching to English with ease. "This is my sister, Yelena. She tends to be a bit... protective."

Yelena smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "A bit? That's an understatement." She pushed off the doorframe and approached, extending a hand toward you. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. I've heard... well, nothing about you," she joked, her tone lightening the atmosphere.

You shook her hand, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden shift in the room's dynamics. "Nice to meet you too, Yelena," you managed, trying to keep up with the rapid changes in conversation.

Yelena nodded, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she turned back to Natasha. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know everything's taken care of." She paused, a more serious expression crossing her face. "But we should talk later."

Natasha nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Of course. We'll catch up in a bit."

With that, Yelena gave you one last curious glance before making her way out of the room, leaving you alone with Natasha once more. The interruption had brought a new energy into the space, a reminder of the world Natasha inhabited—a world that was clearly more complicated and dangerous than you had initially realized.

As the door closed behind Yelena, Natasha turned her attention back to you, her expression softening. "Sorry about that," she said with a small sigh. "My sister can be a bit... overbearing at times. But she's good at what she does." She took another sip of her wine, her eyes locking onto yours once more. "Now, where were we?"

"So that's your sister, which means she's the White Widow?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness. The realization hit you that you were in the presence of not just one but two of the most formidable figures in the city's underworld. Natasha nodded, her expression unreadable as she sipped her wine.

"Yes, she is," Natasha confirmed, her tone matter-of-fact. She set her glass down, leaning back in her chair with an air of casual authority. "But enough about that part of my life," she continued, her voice deepening and becoming gravelly. The sound sent a shiver through you, resonating with a magnetic pull that made your pulse quicken.

Natasha's eyes bore into yours, her gaze intent and focused. "I want to know more about you." Her words were not just a request but an invitation, laced with a curiosity that seemed to cut through the haze of the evening.

You felt the warmth of the wine spreading through your system, your head starting to swim. The rich, velvety taste lingered on your tongue, mingling with the intoxicating presence of the woman before you. The room felt warmer, the air heavier with unspoken tension.

You swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts. "There's not much to tell," you began, feeling a bit self-conscious under her intense scrutiny. "I'm just a bartender, working to make ends meet. I've been at the restaurant for a few years now, and I guess I've gotten good at reading people. But my life... it's pretty ordinary compared to yours."

Natasha's lips curled into a small smile, a soft chuckle escaping her. "Ordinary? I find that hard to believe," she murmured, her voice low and smooth. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together. "You must have seen and heard a lot from behind that bar. People's true selves often come out after a few drinks. It's a unique perspective."

Her words made you feel exposed, as if she could see right through you. The weight of her attention was both thrilling and terrifying. You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the moment. "I suppose you're right," you admitted. "It's interesting, observing people and their stories. But I never expected to find myself in a situation like this."

Natasha's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Life has a way of surprising us, doesn't it?" She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was light, almost tender, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. "You're intriguing, [Your Name]. There's more to you than meets the eye."

Her words hung in the air, filled with a promise that made your heart race. You could feel the pull between you, the magnetic connection that seemed to draw you closer despite the differences in your worlds. The room felt smaller, the space between you charged with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

You blamed it on the alcohol when you leaned forward, your inhibitions slipping away with every sip of wine. The world around you blurred, leaving only Natasha's piercing green eyes and the intoxicating allure of her presence. It felt almost surreal, like a dream you never wanted to end.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips to hers. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. Natasha responded immediately, her lips warm and inviting against yours. The initial contact sent a thrill through your body, igniting a spark that quickly flared into a flame.

You also blamed the alcohol for the boldness with which she pulled you into her lap, her strong hands guiding you effortlessly. You settled onto her, straddling her thighs, your fingers tangling in her hair as the kiss deepened. Natasha's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as her lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own.

The taste of the wine lingered on her lips, mingling with the heady sensation of being so close to her. Her hands roamed over your back, firm yet gentle, sending shivers down your spine. You felt her tongue brush against your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them willingly, allowing her to explore further. The kiss became more passionate, more desperate, as if both of you were trying to drown in each other.

Natasha's touch was intoxicating, and the way she held you made you feel wanted, desired. Your hands trailed down to the open collar of her shirt, your fingers brushing against the smooth skin of her chest. The contact drew a soft moan from her, a sound that only spurred you on.

You couldn't tell if it was the wine or the intensity of the moment, but everything felt heightened. The heat of her body against yours, the taste of her lips, the scent of her, mint—it all blended together, creating a heady mix that made your head spin. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you lost in the kiss.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the grandeur of her mansion, not the complexity of her life, and certainly not the consequences of your actions. It was just you and Natasha, caught in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

Lost in the intoxicating heat of the moment, you barely noticed when Natasha effortlessly lifted you from her lap. Her strength surprised you, but there was something undeniably alluring about being in her arms, your bodies pressed close as she carried you with ease. Your lips left hers only to trail a series of kisses down her neck, tasting the warmth of her skin. You felt the rapid beat of her pulse under your lips, a testament to the shared urgency between you.

As she ascended the grand staircase, your mouth continued its exploration, planting soft kisses along the curve of her neck. You nipped at her skin, leaving a trail of marks in your wake. Natasha's breath hitched, a low growl escaping her throat, the sound sending a thrill through you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the heady mix of desire that consumed you both.

Natasha carried you through the elegantly decorated hallways, the grandeur of her home barely registering in your haze. All you could focus on was the feel of her body against yours, the scent of mint making you dizzy, and the electric connection that pulsed between you.

The journey felt both like an eternity and a blink of an eye. You were vaguely aware of the doors she passed through, the soft click of them closing behind her. Finally, she carried you into a spacious bedroom, the décor understated yet luxurious, a testament to her refined taste. The bed, large and inviting, became the focal point of the room.

Natasha gently laid you down on the plush bed, her eyes dark with desire as she leaned over you. Her fingers brushed over the marks you'd left on her neck, a smirk playing on her lips. "Leaving your mark, are we?" she teased, her voice a low purr that sent a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of exhilaration and anticipation. "Couldn't help myself," you replied, your voice breathless. Your fingers reached out, tracing the line of her jaw, feeling the smoothness of her skin. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, every touch and glance charged with an intensity that made your heart race.

Natasha's eyes softened, a warmth in them that belied her usual cool demeanor. She leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, her hands sliding up your sides with a possessive urgency. The world outside ceased to exist as you lost yourselves in each other, a tangle of limbs and whispered breaths. The night stretched out before you, filled with the promise of more to come, a whirlwind of passion and discovery that neither of you were eager to escape.

===========

When you awoke the next morning, a dull throb echoed in your head, and the unfamiliar comfort of the sheets around you registered as too luxurious to be your own. You blinked groggily, only to wince as the bright light streaming through the windows made your vision pulse with pain. Quickly, you covered your eyes with your hand, slowly adjusting to the brightness. As you squinted them back open, the unfamiliar surroundings reminded you that you weren't home.

The events of the previous night came rushing back, a blend of passionate moments and stolen touches with Natasha. You looked around the room, taking in the elegant décor and the subtle scent of mint lingering in the air. It was a beautiful, well-appointed space, clearly reflecting her refined taste. As your eyes landed on the bedside table, you noticed a glass of water and a small bottle of medicine. Next to them lay a folded note. Curiosity piqued, you reached for the note and unfolded it, a small smile tugging at your lips as you read the familiar handwriting.

"I'm down the hall in my office. I wanted to let you sleep. Feel free to put on the clothes on the chair in the corner. I had someone go out and buy them for you this morning. I hope I got your sizes right. -Tasha"

The gesture was thoughtful, and it made your heart flutter. Natasha had clearly thought about your comfort, even after the whirlwind of the previous night. You set the note down and took the medicine with a grateful sip of water, hoping it would help ease the headache pounding in your skull. The cool liquid was refreshing, and you felt a little more awake as you placed the empty glass back on the table.

With a deep breath, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The room spun slightly, but you steadied yourself, making your way to the chair in the corner. Draped over it was a set of neatly folded clothes, clearly new. You ran your fingers over the fabric, appreciating the soft, high-quality material. Natasha had taken the time to ensure you would be comfortable and well-dressed, a gesture that felt both intimate and considerate.

You quickly changed into the clothes, finding that they fit perfectly, as if tailored just for you. As you dressed, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness about seeing Natasha again. The events of the night before felt like a dream, and you were eager to see what the day would bring. You smoothed down the clothes, took a deep breath, and prepared to step out of the room, ready to face whatever awaited you beyond the door.

You checked yourself out in the mirror with a smile, appreciating how well the outfit suited you. The red plaid pleated skirt paired with the tight black long-sleeved V-neck was a bit more daring than your usual style, but it felt exciting. The addition of the thick thigh-high stockings added a playful touch, making you feel both confident and alluring. Satisfied with your appearance, you left the room and headed out into the hallway.

Upon spotting one of the maids, you politely asked for directions to Natasha's office. She nodded and led you there quietly, stopping in front of a dark wooden door from which Natasha's voice could be heard. The maid gave you a small nod, and you took a deep breath before opening the door.

As you entered, Natasha's eyes immediately found you, and a warm smile spread across her face. She gestured for you to come closer, her gaze filled with an appreciative gleam. You quietly made your way over, and once you were within reach, Natasha's arm snaked around your waist, pulling you onto her lap. The unexpected closeness made your heart race, and you bit your lip to suppress any noises as she subtly squeezed your thighs like a stress ball. The smirk on her face told you she was enjoying every moment of your reaction.

Natasha continued her conversation on the phone, her tone authoritative and calm. You sat there, trying to maintain your composure as her hands roamed over you, seemingly innocent but filled with intent. When she finally hung up the phone, she turned her full attention to you, her eyes raking over your body with an appreciative gaze.

"You look amazing, darling," Natasha murmured, her hands wandering over your curves, taking in every detail of your outfit. Her touch was possessive, yet gentle, as if she were savoring the moment.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm assuming you picked this out for a reason? Is this how you like to dress your girls?" you asked, teasing her a bit.

Natasha's eyes sparkled with amusement, and she leaned back slightly, her hands still resting on your hips. "And boys," she added with a knowing grin. "What can I say? A cute little thing in a plaid skirt and tight shirt, all for me to see? It's a look I can't resist."

Her eyes wandered over you again, this time lingering on your chest. The intensity of her gaze made you feel a delightful mix of bashfulness and excitement. Natasha's admiration was palpable, and you couldn't help but feel flattered by her attention. It was clear she enjoyed the power dynamics at play, and you were more than willing to play along.

=====

As much as you were enjoying the attention from the city's most powerful and intimidating figure, a nagging doubt crept into your mind. It felt surreal, almost too good to be true. You couldn't shake the feeling that there had to be some sort of catch, something you were missing.

"Why me?" The question slipped out quietly, almost a whisper. The moment the words left your lips, you regretted it, feeling vulnerable and exposed. You kept your eyes down, afraid of what her reaction might be.

Natasha's hand gently lifted your chin, guiding your gaze to meet hers. Her expression wasn't harsh or intimidating, as you had feared. Instead, her eyes held a softness, a tenderness that caught you off guard. It was like looking into a tranquil meadow in Spring, calm and reassuring.

"Y/N, look at me," she repeated softly, her voice steady and sincere. "I took one look at you and knew I had to have you. If you had said no to anything, I would have left you alone. I would never make you do anything, понимать?" She asked, the last word rolling off her tongue in Russian, a language that sounded both beautiful and mysterious to your ears.

You weren't entirely sure what the word meant, but you repeated it back as best as you could, the unfamiliar syllables feeling awkward in your mouth. "Понимать," you echoed, sounding more like a child trying to mimic a word. Natasha's smile widened, clearly amused by your effort.

"It means 'understand,'" she explained, her voice warm and patient. You nodded, feeling a little more at ease.

"Capeesh," you replied with a playful smile, borrowing the phrase you knew from movies. Natasha's laugh rang out, a genuine, hearty sound that filled the room. It was infectious, and soon you found yourself laughing along with her, the tension from moments before melting away.

Natasha's laughter was a reminder that, despite her fearsome reputation, she was still human. In that moment, you felt a connection with her that went beyond the intimidating aura she carried. There was a genuine care in her words, a desire to reassure you and make you feel safe. It was a side of her that few probably ever got to see, and you felt privileged to witness it.

====

The following night, the bar was alive with energy, buzzing with the usual Friday night crowd. It was one of your busiest nights, and you thrived in the chaos, moving effortlessly behind the bar in a cropped top and booty shorts. The outfit, while bold, was a practical choice for the heat and energy of the night, and it certainly helped rake in tips from regulars and wealthy patrons alike. You danced and sang along with the music, mixing and pouring drinks with a flair that captivated everyone around you.

As the night went on, you caught sight of Natasha entering the bar. Her presence was impossible to miss; she exuded an aura of authority and elegance even in a crowded, lively place like this. Her eyes locked onto you, and for a moment, you felt a thrill of excitement. However, you quickly noticed a flicker of something darker in her gaze—jealousy, perhaps, or possessiveness.

Before you could fully process it, Natasha made her way through the crowd, her expression set and unreadable. She reached the bar and, without a second thought, grabbed your arm and pulled you away from the counter. The abruptness of her actions caught you off guard, and for a moment, the noise of the bar faded into the background.

You stood your ground, pulling your arm free from her grip. Natasha's eyes bore into yours, a mix of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place. But you didn't back down; this was your space, your job, and you weren't about to let anyone, not even her, dictate your actions here.

"This is my job," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the tension. "This pays my bills. I know what I'm doing, Tasha. Don't think I'm gonna change just because you've walked into my life."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Natasha's expression softened slightly, her initial anger giving way to a more thoughtful look. She seemed to consider your words, her eyes searching yours for understanding.

After a beat, Natasha sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she nodded. "I understand," she finally said, her voice calmer. "I just... I don't want anyone else looking at you the way I do."

You couldn't help but smile at her admission, a warmth spreading through you. "They can look all they want," you replied with a playful wink. "But that doesn't mean they get to touch."

Natasha's lips curved into a small smile, a hint of relief in her eyes. "Fair enough," she conceded, her tone lightening. She leaned in, her voice low and intimate. "But don't be surprised if I get a little protective. I can't help it."

You chuckled, the tension between you easing. "As long as you remember that I can handle myself," you teased, leaning closer. "Besides, it's fun making them think they have a chance."

Natasha smirked, her hand brushing against your arm in a subtle, reassuring gesture. "You're something else, you know that?" she murmured, her eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and affection.

With that, she released you, letting you return to your work. You felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing that you had stood your ground and asserted your independence. As you went back to serving drinks and entertaining the crowd, you caught Natasha watching you from the corner of your eye.

As the night began to wind down, the usual chaos of closing time set in. Patrons stumbled out, leaving behind a mix of laughter and lingering energy. You were busy behind the bar when a particularly drunk guy decided to try his luck, getting handsy in a way that made your skin crawl. Before Natasha could even react, your reflexes kicked in. With a swift motion, you pulled out a small knife from under the bar and slammed it down between the man's fingers. The blade glinted in the dim light, the threat unmistakable.

"Try that again, and you won't just be losing a finger," you warned, your voice flat and devoid of emotion. The man froze, his eyes widening in fear as he registered the seriousness of your tone. The reality of the situation must have hit him hard, as his face paled, and he turned his head to vomit beside him.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated by the mess. "Buck! Clean up, please!" you called out. Bucky, your coworker and the bar's bouncer, quickly stepped in, escorting the stumbling man out while one of the busboys hurried over to clean up the mess. You wiped down the counter, your expression cool and unbothered, as if this was just another night on the job.

Natasha, who had been observing the scene from a distance, made her way over, leaning against the bar with a smirk playing on her lips. You sauntered over, mirroring her posture as you leaned in close. Her eyes were darker than usual, stormy like a spring day brewing with tension and excitement.

"That was hot. I didn't think you were capable of something like that," Natasha's voice was husky, laced with admiration and a hint of surprise.

You chuckled softly, the sound low and confident. "I used to work in a dive bar before this. I learned how to defend myself. I don't even blink at it anymore," you replied, a lithe confidence in your voice. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against hers in a teasing kiss. "I've just gotta grab my tips and count the drawer, and then I am all yours, Tasha," you murmured, a smirk playing on your lips as you pulled away.

The effect you had on Natasha was palpable, and the realization sent a thrill through you. She, the mob boss and infamous Black Widow, was visibly affected by your confidence and composure. The power dynamic between you was complex, a thrilling dance of control and attraction that neither of you could resist. As you moved to finish your tasks, you couldn't help but glance back at her, catching the hungry look in her eyes. It was clear that the night was far from over, and you both knew it.

As the night drew to a close, you finished up your duties behind the bar, efficiently counting the drawer and gathering your tips. The room was clearing out, leaving behind the quiet hum of a few lingering patrons and the soft clinking of glasses being cleaned. Natasha waited patiently, her eyes never leaving you, an enigmatic smile on her lips. The air between you crackled with unspoken promises and an undeniable connection.

Once everything was settled, you slipped out from behind the bar and walked over to Natasha. Without a word, she extended her hand, and you took it, feeling the warmth of her touch. The two of you left the bar, stepping into the cool night air. The drive to her mansion was quiet, filled with a charged silence that spoke volumes. You could feel the anticipation building, both of you eager for what was to come.

Back at her luxurious home, the door barely closed behind you before Natasha's lips were on yours, a passionate kiss that left you breathless. The power she usually wielded so effortlessly seemed to dissipate as she melted into you, her hands gripping your hips with a mix of need and vulnerability. You pulled away gently, looking into her eyes with a commanding intensity that made her shiver.

"Let me take control tonight," you whispered, your voice steady and confident. Natasha nodded, her gaze softening with trust and submission. It was a rare sight, seeing the formidable Black Widow willing to relinquish control, and it filled you with a sense of responsibility and power. You guided her to the bedroom, your movements assured and deliberate.

The night unfolded with a new dynamic. Natasha, always in control, allowed herself to be vulnerable, letting you take the lead. It was an intimate, tender exchange, a dance where you set the rhythm, and she followed. The shift in power felt natural, something both of you needed. For Natasha, it was a chance to let go of the burdens of leadership and dominance, to simply feel and be taken care of. For you, it was an opportunity to assert yourself, to embrace the power and control you often kept in check.

Afterward, you lay together in the quiet of her bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the windows. You held Natasha in your arms, her head resting on your chest, her breathing steady and calm. It was a serene moment, a quiet intimacy that spoke of trust and understanding.

Natasha broke the silence, her voice soft and earnest. "Stay with me," she said, lifting her head to look at you. Her eyes searched yours, vulnerable and hopeful. "I want you to stay with me. Not just tonight, but... longer. Let me take care of you, treat you right. I'll make sure nothing ever happens to you."

Her words were filled with sincerity, and you could see the depth of her feelings in her gaze. It wasn't just a simple request; it was a promise, a commitment. Natasha, who always seemed so self-assured and in control, was offering you a piece of her heart, opening herself up in a way few ever got to see.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'd like that," you replied, your voice warm and tender. "I want to stay with you, Natasha."

A smile spread across her lips, genuine and full of relief. She leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, a silent agreement sealed with affection. As you held her close, you both knew this was just the beginning of something deeper, something real. It was a new chapter, a chance to explore a relationship built on mutual respect, trust, and love.

In that quiet moment, wrapped in each other's arms, you both felt a sense of peace and fulfillment. Natasha had found someone she could trust to take control when needed, and you had found a place where you could be both strong and cherished. It was a perfect balance, a harmony that promised a future full of possibilities. As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

[teojira]

[Light] [Noa x GN!reader oneshot]

Summary: Noa wakes you up at an ungodly hour to go into the overgrown city.

Words: 2.5K+

Warnings: Mutual pinning (neither of you know yet), romance, Reader is insecure, self indulgence at its fucking finest. Gender neutral but Noa thinks you're pretty :)

A/N: I'm so in love with him it actually hurts LMAOO, literally a ache in my chest. I was listening to Light by sleeping at last while writing this <3 hence the title, I hope I got the energy right!

You weren't quite sure what Noa was planning, he had woken you up early, maybe an hour or two before sunrise.

Groaning and rolling away from his poking, he moves to trail a hand down to your side, jabbing his fingers there.

Your eyes fly open with a yelp, staring daggers into his head. You turn to him, and he has a small smirk on his face, laughing silently about the pout of your face.

He's already dressed in his normal attire, his feathered adorned to his person, a sling wrapped around his shoulder as well.

Noa watches your face take him in, and he hopes to anyone who's out there, to Caesar you can't tell how flushed he gets under your gaze. It's bad enough that everyone in the clan side eyes him because they know of his feelings for you. He hasn't worked up the nerve to tell you himself. He doesn't know what to do. He's both simultaneously enamored with you and your differences, but in the same vein, you're so different.

Sometimes, a part of him wishes he hadn't fallen for you. It'd be easier. It's easier to just be your friend and your protector, but falling for you was as easy as breathing.

You move to stretch out our limbs, groaning as you twist and turn, eyes still half lidded. The noise gaining his attention, his previous thoughts disappearing.

You're pretty like this, he thinks. You always do though, no matter what you're doing.

"What the fu-

Noa shoves a finger against your lips, gesturing for you to be quiet.

'I need you to come with me, important.' he signs, moving to grab at your hand, pulling you up. He forgets his strength a lot and yanks you into his chest. Your head knocks into him, and you yelp. In his defense, he didn't mean to!

"Sorry." He sniffs, using a large hand to rub at your forehead to soothe the ache there.

"This better be worth waking me up."

"It will be, come on."

Noa leads you down to the horses, a hand on the small of your back, pushing you to go faster.

"Noa, what is the rush? Is everything okay?" You dig your heels into the soft earth beneath you, looking at him with concern.

He's been unusually impatient.

It's early as hell in the morning, no one else is awake. Not even Dar is up and about and that woman is constantly moving.

"Everything is fine, you worry too much."

"I worry a normal amount, thank you very much." You stick your tongue out at him, moving a hand to rub at your eyes, to get rid of the crust lingering.

You both arrive at the hut where the horses are kept, you linger back as Noa goes inside to grab his. He's fast and efficient, checking the satchel strapped to the animal to make sure he has everything he needs for this impromptu trip he's taking you both on.

It's cute the way he gets in the zone, his eyes trained on his task.

Yawning, you're not processing Noa's words until he's right in front of you in the saddle. That was fast.

"Come, come. Do you want to ride with me or ride alone?" Noa always ask, and he knows the answer by now.

You always ride with him, just like you always go with him anywhere.

It's a running joke in the clan that you're Noa's shadow, always at his heels, asking if he needs anything or if there's something you can do in general.

You've come a long way since then, finding your place in the clan. Not needing to follow Noa like a lost puppy, but as it turns out, you can't shake the habit of being around Noa when you can. Without thinking, you find your way towards him.

A part of you is still insecure about your place among them, knowing just how different you are. Noa is your only true companion, you think. Dar is loving, but you're worried she doesn't like you, same with Anaya and Soona. No matter how much they say they love you, years of differences have made you insecure.

So you cling to Noa like a lifeline, despite knowing you shouldn't, surely he doesn't want to be around you all the time. It's not fair to him.

But Noa never let it show that he finds your differences bothersome, you couldn't lift what the others could? No worries, he'd adjust it for you, making you a pulley to help or helping you himself when he had the time.

Or if you didn't know how to fish or hunt, he'd take you and Soona, and Anaya would come with all three encouraging you and helping you learn. He'd ask his mother to teach you how to make garments and how to farm the earth. He always looked out for you, even if he wasn't around.

They never made you feel like a burden, Noa never made you feel like a burden.

How were you not supposed to love him? In every universe, you're sure you were to be in love with him in every single one.

"Help me up?" You ask sheepishly, lifting your arms up so he can grab onto you.

"Of course."

It's been about an hour or two, give or take on the ride to the overgrown city. Not that you'd know. With the warmth of Noa against your back and the steady movement of the horse, you've fallen asleep again.

Noa snorted when he realized, your body slumped into his, your hand loosely holding the saddles horn in a feeble attempt to not fall off.

He has to wrap an arm around your waist to make sure you didn't fall off or that what he tells himself.

Noa would never admit it, but he cherishes how easily you trust him, how comfortable you are with him, it makes him feel important, makes him feel loved. He'll give you shit for it, but nothing makes him happier.

You're only asleep for the last hour of the ride, breathing softly as Noa leads you both past the overgrown city, the hooves of the horse being the only noise being made.

"Here, wake up." He slows down the horse, pulling to a stop in front of a looming building, covered in greenery. He has not so great memories of it. Almost falling to his death would do that to you. But he won't take you that high. He'd never put you in danger.

His arm slips from your waist, moving to rub up and down your side as he tries and wakes you up for the second time today.

You let out a grumble. He feels it in his chest, and it makes him chuff, but open your eyes, blinking rapidly to get the sleep out of them.

Once he's positive, you won't fall without him propping you up. He demounts with an ease, his feet hitting the ground in a soft thump as he turns around to face you, holding his hands up so you can use him to get down yourself.

You move to grab his hands with your own, ignoring the spark that runs down your spine at the contact.

There are so many differences between you and Noa, too many to even begin to count, but the way his hands are similar to yours, the way he immediately holds you so gently, makes them seem insignificant. Is this what love is? It's weird.

Noa sets you down on the ground, smiling softly at you, then moving to wrap the reins around a piece of metal protuding out of the ground to ensure the horse doesn't go anywhere. Something he didn't use to do, but after the events of the last time he came into the city, he's not going to have that mistake happen again.

"We'll start climbing here." You crane your neck and balk at just how tall the structure is, it's a good couple of stories up, he's insane.

"Uh, Noa, I don't think you remember, but I can't really climb that high."

"I carry you, like I always do." He says it nonchalantly, shrugging with a shoulder.

"Noa, I'm heavy, no." It's always embarrassing when he carries you. It makes you blush, and you're terrified he can hear your heartbeat.

The look he shoots you is devastating.

"You always say that, you are not." He argues, looking offended on your behalf.

There's no point arguing with him about this.

You sigh and gesture for him to turn around so you can climb onto his back.

He does just that, crouching towards the ground.

You're always afraid of choking him out when you get on his back, so you take extra care to gently wrap your around around his neck, sliding your legs around his waist.

"Are you ready? It'll be a bit of a climb."

You let out a 'mhm.' Your brain too occupied with taking in his warmth and his scent, mind all fuzzy at holding him.

"Hold on tight." He squeezes your thigh.

The climb is uneventful, mostly you filling in the silence with what you've done in thr last few days, Noa nodding and offering a hum here and there.

He finally stops, jostling you a bit to look at what he's come to show you.

A smile creeps along your face. It's Eagle eggs, four to be exact.

Despite the Eagle clan hand raising plenty of the birds, they don't do well breeding with their intervention, so to see a clutch is rare.

"Pick the egg that speaks to you the most."

You stare at the nest of eggs, taking in each one's complexion. It's hard, you have no idea why you have to choose. You figure Noa just wants your input, so you take it seriously.

Within a minute, you decide to point to the biggest egg in the center. The eggshell is freckled, and it stands out the most among its siblings.

"I like that one." You say softly in Noas ear. He nods and scoops it up, taking care to put it in the sling.

"Was that it? Can we go home now?" You rest your head on his own, holding back from nuzzling into his soft fur.

"Yes, this is all I needed today."

After making a slow descent down the crumbling tower, Noa helps you get back onto the horse, throwing himself behind you. He moves the egg sling to be on his back, in order for you to be comfortable. (He wants you to lay against him so bad again)

The way home is filled with a comfortable silence, only breaking when you see fit.

It's always nice to spend time with Noa, but this particularly feels different, like something is innately changed in your relationship. You're probably imagining things though.

Noa stops shortly before the village, it not being more than an acre away.

Noa swings a leg off the saddle, falling down and reaching for your waist to lift you down as well.

He breaths out your name, continuing after a moment. "Before we go, I need to give you something. Close your eyes."

You lift an eyebrow at him, but do as you're told. It's Noa, you trust him with everything in you, so your eyes slide closed.

Noa ruffles with something, cursing quietly under his breath. It makes you giggle, you had been teaching him some human vocabulary, alot of curse words included.

You're a bit startled when you feel him brush your hair away from your face, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. The blush that threatens to overtake your face is insane, and you hope he thinks it's just because the sun is beaming down on the both of you.

You feel something be placed over your head, sliding down and stopping at your chest.

Noa takes a second to readjust it, making sure it's snug and resting comfortably on you.

"Open now."

Peeling your eyes open, you're greeted with a blinding smile by him, and your mouth goes dry for a second at it. Yes, he has always been handsome, but the way he's looking at you now, the way his eyes are shining with happiness, it's a lot to take in. He's so handsome and he doesn't even know it.

Noa doesn't notice your internal dilemma over him, nodding his head towards your chest, still beaming with pride.

You snap yourself out of your Noa fueled daze, eyes going down to your chest.

It's the egg you chose.

Confusion fills your brain for a second.

"This is your egg, why am I carrying it?"

Noa told you all about how his egg was crushed the first time he got it, and how a downward spiral that moment had lead to.

Even though he had Eagle son now, you had figured he still wanted his own, to say he had done it for his late father.

"No, this is your egg."

"What?"

"Your egg, your Eagle to raise."

"Noa-"

"Noa, nothing. You are part of us. You get an eagle."

"Noa, I'm not. This is special to your clan. Someone else should have my egg." You try and carefully slip the sling from your neck, but Noa beats you, his hands inclosing around your own to stop you.

"You are apart of the clan." He murmurs, pushing your hands down until they're at your side. His hands then come back to your face, holding your cheeks gently.

"You're not an outsider."

The lump in your throat is suffocating, your eyes well past the point of welling up. Salty tears having no consideration for how embarrassing it is for you to cry over this.

Noa hums, this thumbs coming up to brush them away, still smiling, his eyes willed with warmth and his smile just the more softer.

He pulls you in then, resting his forehead on yours, a hand against the back of your head.

You let out a shuddering breath, smiling so hard it starts to hurt.

"You're apart of me."

"Noa! My Eagle hatched!" You're sprinting to him, he just got home from exploration with Anaya. You've missed him, even more than usual.

You move to grab his hand, trying with all your might to pull him off to drag him to the Eagle area.

Anaya shoots a look to Noa, a smug smirk on his face.

"Noa you go, your mate needs you." He teases, dismounting his horse, grabbing Noas reins from him.

Noa sputters, quickly signing that no, you two are not mates, at least not yet. He hasn't even asked if you liked him yet! He's told Anaya this on the trip, many times, after many rounds of teasing.

You don't understand their signing that well yet, so you tug at Noas hand again, intertwining your fingers.

"Noaaa, come on!" You whine.

Noa is sure he'd do just about anything you asked of him, and then some. So he gets off the mount and runs with you.

Anaya snorts, shaking his head good-naturedly.

"Not mates, as if."

[moonlightspencie]

This Ain’t for the Best

Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.

Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.

First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.

Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.

Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.

That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.

“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.

“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.

We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.

“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.

“Where?” Bobby asked.

“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.

“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.

“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.

They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”

“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”

“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”

“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”

“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”

Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.

“If you keep denying all this…”

I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”

“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”

He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you blind?”

I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.

“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”

“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”

I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.

“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”

The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.

“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”

Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.

“So, no case, then?” I asked.

Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”

“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”

“I am not,” I defended.

Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”

I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”

“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”

I took a moment.

“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.

The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victim with a missing liver. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.

I shrugged, looking around the house.

“It seems… clean.”

“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”

“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”

I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.

“Clean. Not even dust.”

He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”

“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”

He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.

“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.

He smirked, placing a hand on my back.

“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”

We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.

“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”

I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.

“Same place.”

“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”

“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”

He looked up at me with a quirked brow.

“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.

I snorted. “Right. So not you.”

“Leave in ten?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.

We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.

I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.

“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.

He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.

“What?”

“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”

I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.

“It’s a human?”

He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”

He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.

“Can— How do we do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”

“We could still stab him.”

“But should we?”

He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.

“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”

He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”

“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”

“Then you feel free to shoot him.”

He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.

“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.

My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.

“You’re not cops,” he stated.

Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”

“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”

Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.

“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.

I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.

“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”

Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.

“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.

“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”

“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.

“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.

I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.

“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.

He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”

I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”

“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”

“You got that right.”

Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.

“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.

“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.

He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.

“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.

He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.

“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.

“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.

“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.

I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

He smiled. “Go take a shower.”

“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”

I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.

“Movie tonight?” he asked.

I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.

“Sure.”

“Any requests?”

“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”

“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”

“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”

“Do you want one of mine?”

I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.

“That would be awesome.”

He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.

“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”

“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.

He sighed dramatically. I laughed.

“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”

He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.

He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”

“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.

“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”

“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.

We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.

“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”

I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.

“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”

A pause.

“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”

He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.

“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”

I sighed. “That sucks.”

He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.

“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”

“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.

“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.

He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.

“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.

He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”

I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.

This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.

In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”

“Mm?”

I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.

“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”

“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.

He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.

“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”

“I know.”

He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.

At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.

He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.

I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.

I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.

I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.

“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.

He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.

“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”

“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”

He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”

“Good point.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.

Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.

“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.

He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.

“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”

Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”

“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.

I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.

“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.

Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”

“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”

I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.

“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”

“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”

“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.

“You two actually fell asleep together?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.

“Making moves on her, now?”

Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.

“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”

Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”

He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”

“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”

“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.

“We talk plenty.”

“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”

Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”

I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”

“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.

The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.

I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.

“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.

“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.

He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.

“Taylor Swift?”

“You know it,” I replied.

He smiled, turning his head back.

“Stars are coming out,” he commented.

“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”

He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.

“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”

“You sound like me, now.”

He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.

“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”

I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.

“Thought you could use some company.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.

“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”

“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”

“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.

“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.

“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”

“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.

He laughed. “Exactly my point.”

“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.

“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”

“It makes people feel that way?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”

“I gathered that much.”

He laughed softly, as did I.

“How’d you know?”

“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”

His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”

“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”

“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.

“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”

“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”

I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”

“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”

“Well, when did you realize I might?”

He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”

I paused. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.

I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.

I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.

“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”

Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.

We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.

“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”

His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.

“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”

“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.

He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

[inkdrinkerworld]

Oh please expand on your thoughts about Dick being obsessed with reader’s hips and love handles!! What happens when he leaves Jason to go find them???

Initial thought a little suggestive so MDNI 18+ONLY

“You’re fucking whipped!” Jason calls after him as he watches Dick rush off behind you.

Jason doesn’t need to be looking at his brother to know that he’s flipping him the bird.

“I’m leaving, don’t break the bed again.”

“Baby,” Dick walks into the bedroom to find you sitting with your scrapbook and your colourful pens and markers all spread out on your table.

“Yes?” You spare him a quick glance and then look back at your book. You’re trying to arrange your cuttings and scraps from your days in the city with Dick nicely but you’re just not getting the right look.

“C’mere a second,” he’s leaning on the door jam, watching you as you sigh and stand. He gives you a once over and bites his lip. “Fuck.”

“What?” You look down at yourself and then back up at Dick. He doesn’t say anything and you frown. “Richard, what is it?”

He only shakes his head. “You just,” he inhales harshly and he’s got you pressed up against him suddenly; his hands cemented to your hips kneading the fat there. “You’re unbelievably attractive.”

“I’m only in lounge clothes.” You’re trying to not let the effects of his attention be too evident but it isn’t working because Dick can see your pulse tick under your jaw.

“Yeah and you’re stunning. I swear it’s your fucking hips I don’t know what about them but they’re so fucking,” Dick trails off as his hands grope your hips and waist a little harder.

You don’t mind. His nose brushes along your jaw, his mouth nipping at the sensitive skin under it making you shiver.

“Jason is right outside.” Despite your efforts, your voice is breathy and your head cranes back just a little to give Dick more room.

“He went home, just you and me here.” His teeth sink into the column of your neck making you gasp.

“I’m scrapbooking.” You try to deny the way your stomach pools, the heat that pours right into your centre and crawls up your chest making your breath heave.

Dick licks against your neck, sucking a bruise right above your collarbone. “Too busy for me, then? Should I stop?” He’s only teasing, Dick knows that won’t be what you want. He’s proved right when your arms sling around his neck and you pull him closer.

“No, no. Keep going.”

[crow-person]

don't trust a man that wont stop talking about his balls

[bloodykhaos]

Gifts and Fun Consequences

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN!Reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: A little bit of violence.

Summary: Playing a traitor hunter is not something your Queen is happy about.

══════════════════

The whole world around you was burning. Not literally. But, even in that aspect, it would not be long for it to happen as well. You had always liked to think you were a good person. Calm, kind, collected.

And you had been. For a while. Until Hightowers had decided to steal the throne. There was almost nothing from the old you in the new you. The betrayal had changed you. It was not even done to you, but it still felt like a knife had been buried in your back and twisted for good measure.

The feeling only had deepened when you had found out one of your closest friends had not shared the same views as you and his brother. Arryk's choice had cut you deep. As deep as your sword had cut him when he had tried to murder the Queen. And when he had not seen anything wrong with attacking Erryk in the process.

You'd found them battling in the Queen's sleeping chambers. It hadn't taken you long to put two and two together when you'd seen her terrified and curled up on the floor. Her features had been painted in colors you had never wanted to see.

Your sword out of its leather sheath had been the next thing you had known before you'd charged at Arryk when he'd knocked his brother down. You would never forget the look in his eyes.

The regret, the sorrow. But the readiness to end his brother's life had been there too. And it'd been the last thing to push you one step closer to dragging your sword through his stomach after he would not have listened to your pleas.

Nothing had been the same since that day. Since it had happened a week ago. Erryk had not been himself at all, but had never put the blame on you. And it was okay. You were blaming yourself for all three of you. There was enough guilt in you already.

That was why you did your best to mask the way emotions pulled at you. How they attempted to sneak their way into your head and lead to your demise.

Maybe that was why you had started making unwise decisions. Decisions that had seemed great and very well planned until you had taken action. It had not been the tactics of the war that had led you to those decisions.

It had been your anger at everyone and everything.

That was how you found yourself in this situation right now.

The clinking of the metal was bouncing off the stone walls as you walked with one hand over your sword and the other fisted in the hair of an unfortunate man. Unfortunate because he'd had the rare occasion of you making it your personal mission to find him.

He was not too smart, so it had not been a challenge at all. Taking candy out of a child's hand would be harder. You should have done this weeks ago when the Greens had decided to put their impostor on your Queen's throne.

A loud thud sounded throughout the big hall as you pushed the man to his knees. Your tight grip on the hair made him wince, his face scrunching up in pain before you let go of his head and stood a few steps in front of him.

Fixing your armor and making sure your sword was safely in its sheath, you cleared your throat while he stared up at you with a foolish smirk on his dirty face. "Is this what you truly fell into doing?" His head shook as it dropped loosely.

"Joining the unrightful, fake heir?" He spoke, seething out his words like a snake. "Betraying your King is disgusting to do even for you." He looked at you with displeasure written all over his face before he spat in front of your feet.

Taking a slow and deep breath, you looked up while pursing your lips. He really did not know when to stop. "Ah!" His head whipped as a strong punch was delivered to his face.

The air got knocked out of his lungs, causing his mouth to open as he blinked slowly. "I do not know what you are speaking of. I only know of the Queen Rhaenyra." Your stoic tone had nothing in common with the actions of your fist.

"I am not aware of what kind of people you acquaint yourself with, Cole—" Continuing, you raised one hand, clenching and unclenching it. "But I am not interested in joining."

Criston huffed. And huffed again. Before an airy chuckle turned into a laugh that you fought hard not to roll your eyes at. "You truly want to devote your life to serve that who-" The word could never be finished as your fist connected with his cheek once more.

"Oh, excuse me." Your face scrunched up in concern and confusion. Your upper body bent to get closer to his face. "Did you want to say something?" The question seemingly innocent held a huge warning behind itself.

If the way you said it was not enough, the look on your face should let him know you would not listen to insults thrown at the Queen.

His lips pursed as he looked at you with anger in his eyes. "You are pathetic." Almost spitting at you as he spoke, his nostrils flared. "You could have been a great knight, but instead, you are just her whore." His bitter tone made your lips pucker out for a second while you listened.

Your eyes went to the side and up while you slightly scrunched your eyebrows. But your gaze quickly found his again. Taking a step closer, you did not fear him doing anything. Even with his hands untied.

Lowering your upper body to the point your eye line was almost at the same level as his, you tilted your head. "I can be her whore." You said lowly. "I can be her slut." You added in a careless tone. "I can be whatever she wishes to call me."

The low volume of your voice only intensified the message you were giving. There were no threats, but he looked worried. "And I will still have more honor than you in your white cloak." You finished the sentence with a click of your tongue as you let out the last word.

Your burning gaze stayed on him as the silence embraced both of you. His eyes going between yours before his throat bopped.

"Ser Y/n!" You heard the only voice that could ever make you do whatever she wanted you to do. The only voice you followed the orders of. Sometimes not very well. Like this time.

You stood back to your full height while smiling at Criston. "What is the meaning of this?" You turned around just in time to see her confusion and irritation as she waved her hand.

"I have brought you a gift, Your Grace." Her head tilted at you as she squinted her eyes. You acted like nothing happened, back to your Queensguard-self. Back to behaving like a true knight on duty.

But she did not see you just as that anymore. She knew your true self. "A gift?" She repeated, unimpressed. "Is this the gift you are speaking of?" The annoyance in her tone was shining through as she gestured with her hand to Criston.

However, her eyes were glued to you. And they were not filled with happiness. "Yes, Your Grace." You stepped to the side, giving her a clear line of sight from the direction of where she was standing.

She glanced at the man before her eyes rolled as she sighed unhappily. Her hands holding onto her long dress. "And to what possible end would you bring him into the Dragonstone?" Her mouth was tense, the skin on her neck straining with each word she spoke.

"He had plenty of things to say, Your Grace." You informed her before moving your eyes to Criston. "Did you not?" The rhetorical question made the man look up at you as he avoided Rhaenyra's gaze.

He, however, stayed quiet. "Did you not?!"

"Yes!" You smiled to yourself satisfied when he finally responded after you had raised your voice.

His eyes dropping to the ground as he kept kneeling on the hard stone. Rhaenyra finally looked at him for longer than a second. Intrigue appeared on her features.

"What things?" Her words held some edge, opposite to the, now, calm demeanor. "Tell your Queen what things." You nodded at the man who would not raise his gaze above the floor.

You waited for him to speak as Rhaenyra looked at you with parted lips. Sucking in your bottom lip, you slightly shook your head before stretching your mouth into an unamused smile.

"Tell your Queen!" Your voice was so loud it bounced off the walls in the hall and caused the blonde woman to look at you with widened eyes.

"She's not my Queen!" He finally replied, trying to be loud but could barely be heard.

Your eyes found Rhaenyra, not believing in Criston's foolishness. "If she is not, then you are a traitor to the crown." You declared openly, your hands resting on the handle of your sword.

The Queen's gaze was roaming your face as you bit the corner of your lip from the inside. Standing on guard right next to the dark-haired man, your head was looking straight ahead at nothing in particular.

"It is not possible for me to be what you speak of when I believe in one, true King Aegon II." Your mouth ticked at his words. You had never liked him. Ever since he had joined the Kingsguards.

He represented nothing with himself. He was no real warrior. "What will you choose to do with me for speaking honestly, Ser Y/n?" Your eyes faltered at the mocking tone of your name as you could see from the corner how Rhaenyra's face changed into anger upon hearing it too.

Moving slowly and lowering your head to his, you watched as his ignorant grin widened. "The only person who can decide your fate is Queen Rhaenyra." The firmness of your words made the man blink.

"And you should be happy about it." Now, it was your turn to smirk at him. "Because I already have a lot of things planned for you in case she needs any help with deciding." Criston's face quickly dropped as he paled a little.

It made the corners of your mouth lift even higher as you stood straighter. At times, you could be perceived as insane. And it was perfect for torturing methods. Or situations like this where it did not hurt to scare and threaten unworthy people.

Criston knew what you were capable of. You were also sure he would not want to experience how far your cruelty could go.

"That is enough." The Queen's voice made you stand straighter again as you would not look away from Criston. You relished in the fear that was forming on his face. "Take him away to the dungeon."

Rhaenyra ordered two guards, gesturing with her head as her hands laid neatly at her front. "And you, Ser Y/n." Your posture formed to perfection as you stood with your chin up. "I will be waiting for the explanation in my chambers." Her words were sharp as you listened.

She would not look away from you for a longer while before shaking her head in irritation and walking away.

——

"Are you mad?!" She almost yelled out as soon as the doors closed, leaving only the two of you to privacy. "Have you not listened to what I said before?!" It would have to be the angriest you had ever seen her.

"I have, my Queen." There was nothing you could say or do that would make it better right now. She was already mad at you. Mad for ignoring her orders.

"Chasing after Cole alone? Only Daemon could be accused of such foolishness!" Her feet were taking her back and forth as she was pacing around the chambers.

Her hand was on her forehead as she rubbed it. "Cole is nothing close to a warrior, he could not be a challenge even at his best-" Her angry eyes found you quickly as you started speaking.

"It is not Cole I am worried about!" She cut you off sharply, her gaze piercing through yours as you sighed. "It is everyone else that could have seen you, kidnapped you, even taken your life!" Her voice kept getting louder and louder.

But you did not even flinch, you listened to everything she had to say. You took a half-step forward, reaching for her with your hand. "Rhaen, nothing happen-"

"That is no way to speak to your Queen!" Her teeth were clenched as she looked at you with wide, full-of-rage eyes.

You immediately stepped back to your previous spot. Hands going to your sides as you stood to your full height. Your head was unmoving as you stared blankly ahead.

"You disregarded my orders, left the Dragonstone without my permission at a convenient time when I could not have noticed your absence until recently." She started ranting and listing every single thing you had done. Every rule you had broken. "And most importantly, you could have died!"

Her wild eyes were going from one thing to another and another, trying to find anything that would occupy her head. She was leaning on the table, her arms spread widely as she breathed deeply.

You stayed silent. Your stance did not falter even for a second as she was composing herself. Her hand rubbing at her eyebrows before she turned around to you.

"Will you not say anything?!" She asked loudly, raising her hands and making them drop to her sides.

She tensed her entire mouth as she waited for you. "I apologize for my actions, Your Majesty, it will not happen again." You spoke softly, not letting your eyes wander to her. Not letting them connect with hers.

She huffed in irritation, turning her body around and running a hand through her hair before moving back to you. "Is that all you have to say?" She pursed her lips, her hand gesturing to you as its palm was pointed up.

When you did not reply, she started walking and stood right in front of you. She stared right into your eyes, going between them, as you did your best to avoid her gaze.

"Are you not going to embrace me?" Her tone was still firm, but you could sense the falter in her words.

"I am not allowed to-"

"Oh, for Gods' sake, Y/n." Her eyes rolled in frustration as she grabbed both of your hands and wrapped your arms around herself.

Your mouth twitched as a small smile threatened to break out on your lips when she pushed herself closer to you. "Do not dare to do this ever again." She spoke in your neck and you finally let a grin spread on your face as you tightened your arms around her.

"I was losing my mind worrying about you." One of your hands went up to her hair and softly caressed it as the metal of your armor clinked.

She huffed in annoyance at how stiff your movements were and pulled away while looking at your chest. "Take this off. I hate it when it gets in my way." You could not help the chuckle that passed your lips as you started getting rid of the armor.

"I do not think you like anything or anyone getting in your way, my dear." Her head tilted at your words, but you saw the hint of a smile that formed on her lips.

"I do not mind someone getting in my way." The chuckle only intensified as your head shook while she quickly raised her eyebrows at you. A playful smirk playing on her lips.

When you managed to put away all of the parts, she quickly stepped back into your personal space and sneaked her arms around your torso. "If you ever do that again, there will be serious consequences." Her breath was hitting your lips as she kept her head up to look at you.

Smirking at her, you embraced her with your strong arms before pulling her closer and ghosting your lips over hers. "It depends on what type of consequences we are speaking of." Your low voice had the woman glancing down at your lips as she dug her short nails into your back.

"Some of them proved to be quite tempting." You added, brushing her lips with yours. And it was all it took for her to connect them, fisting your shirt and pulling at it.

You did not waste any second and kissed her back instantly, hands lying flat on her back before one of them wandered lower. Her mouth opened when you squeezed her backside and you swiftly pushed your tongue inside.

Moans sounded through both of your throats before she pulled away to get some air. Your mouth did not wait for hers to come back as you attached it to her soft skin. Sucking and nibbling on her neck, you heard her sighs getting louder.

"To the bed." Her words were quiet, but you were used to that in this kind of situation as she was losing herself.

"I thought you wanted to speak." Teasing her with a smirk on your face, you earned yourself a hard glare when she grabbed your hair and pulled you away from her neck.

"Do not test my patience any longer today." Your smirk widened so much it could break your face as you smashed your lips against hers and started walking her back to the bed.

The anticipation was rising for both of you as you were getting drunk on how eager she was.

"As you wish, my Queen."

After all, there was something you could do to make it better.

══════════════════

[akixxsstuff]

Dating L would be like...

Death Note L Lawliet x gender neutral reader

(I'm aware that the picture says girlfriend but the gender of the reader is not specified in the fic. The pictures were also edited by me).

Fluff // One shot

Summary: L was more like a machine than a human, he was cold, calculated and a "no fun and games" type of person aside from the occasional sarcastic or dry humored comment. L never lost his composure and would repress any emotion he had has a intimidation tactic. He was blunt and wouldn't allow anything or anyone to dethrone him.

However around you, L wasn't quite that...

The task force had suspected you and L were a couple, but whenever anyone asked about it, L would quickly shut down the conversation and went back to his work, saying that it wasn't any of their business. You and L were a couple but he just wanted to keep things secretive and professional since doing otherwise made him feel vulnerable.

He couldn't let his suspect Light know how much you meant to him just in case he used it against him, plus it was just in L's nature to be serective.

However as soon the doors were closed and the task force was gone, he would be nuzzling into your shoulder, whining for attention. He would never stop clinging onto you until he got he's way because in his own words, "I'm also childish and don't like to lose".

Like today for instance:

"Not now Lolly, I've got an appointment to book", you said sighing while L continued kissing your neck and nibbling your ear from behind. "I love you but I do not appreciate your lack of cooperation" L then grumbled.

Lolly was your main pet name for L since it sounded like it was short for lollipop, (and we all know how much L loves those) and sounded similar to his real name, Lawliet. Panda was also another common one since he reminded you of one with his dark eyes and pale skin.

He then kneeled in between your legs with his head resting on your thigh, looking up at you in annoyance in an attempt to guilt trip you, (however he couldn't mask he's pleading eyes). "Lolly I already told you I'm busy, just 10 more minutes okay my love?" you cooed while stroking his cheek. But L didn't care, he picked you up bridal style from your chair and tossed you onto the bed. "Lawliet, you should know of all people how important it is to not have any distractions from your work" you said rasing an eyebrow. "You make a fair point" L says with his thumb on his lip, "But I'm not feeling very empathetic tonight" then he proceeded to smother you with kisses.

Another thing L wouldn't budge on is removing all the cameras and wiring taps from your room, if someone broke in and tired to hurt you he needed to know immediately who was responsible so he could toss them in jail forever. He valued your life way more than his, afterall, he did challenge Kira to kill him live on broadcast.

Your dates were either cafe hopping, picnics in the park, or L trying to teach you tennis. You would always try to get him to wear shoes but he would refuse, saying "I don't like how they feel". "I know but I don't want you to step on a piece of glass and hurt yourself" you would say while kissing his forehead. "I will live" L would reply while blushing from your kiss. You would then sigh and take off your shoes, "Fine, if that's how you want to play" and you both would walk around barefoot.

L absolutely loved when you taunted his number one suspect Light, in fact it was his love language.

"I'm not Kira!" Light would yell.

"You're not a very convincing actor Light, but hey! Maybe they'll give you an academy award in prison just for trying. Light Yagami! Mass murderer tries playing innocent victim!".

As a detective, L would always be analysising people's behaviour and you were no expectation.

"How was your day darling?" L cooed.

"Fine. I'm going to my room".

You say that you're fine Y/N yet you're tone and lack of physical affection would indicate otherwise. Could you be trying to deprive me of your attention as an indirect punishment? What could have I done?

However, you did mention how your work load has increased because of the lack of empyoees, were you stressed from that and simply avoided me to avoid talking about it? I should confront you instead of making any assumptions, it could make matters worse because you might believe that I am deliberately ignoring you.

"Love, I believe I have done something to upset you, please tell me what it is was so I can correct my behaviour. Will you accept this piece of cake as a initial peace offering? If I'm not to blame then please tell me who's bothering you so I can potentially sue them".

[dragonsfictavern]

In The Wind 

Astarion Ancunin X Reader

a/n: This came to mind specifically because of the scene in 2005 Pride and Prejudice where Bingley is trailing after Jane and touching the ribbon on her dress. So keep that in mind bc it haunts me in the best way

summary: After your tunic gets torn in battle, you and Astarion head to a shop to get materials to get it fixed. Astarion, trapped in thoughts surrounding you, decides to do something to properly show his appreciation

word count: 2k

The day was cool, the breeze blowing through the opened door of the fabric store you and Astarion currently walked through. The others were Gods knew where but Astarion didn’t particularly care where they were. His thoughts were on you. More and more he found that his thoughts always came back to you.

Baldur’s Gate was loud. It has always been loud. Something Astarion remembered specifically. But he found the sound drained out as he stared down at a beautiful ribbon. At first he couldn’t exactly say what about it had caught his attention. What kept it. But upon reflection he noted how it reminded him of your eyes.

Cursing himself under his breath, Astarion threw down the ribbon and glanced away from the pile of fabrics. But just as his eyes lifted from the box, they fell right onto you. You who stood right in the sunlight, whose hair flowed through the wind that passed through the store.

He couldn’t look away from you, once again not really believing that you somehow cared about him. You were so… good. It was honestly almost nauseating. But it was also something he admired about you. It made him want to be better. To be better than what he was before. Most importantly for him. But he couldn’t deny he also wanted to be better for you. To be someone you could be proud to love.

Astarion walked around one of the makeshift aisles of the store. You were busy as you looked over some of the patches of fabric while Astarion was busy as he watched you. He didn’t blame you for not having noticed his stare. You were on a mission after all. Your tunic had been badly torn in your party’s last battle. The tear could easily be mended by you and the enchantments on it could be replaced by Gale if he was going to actually be helpful today.

But Astarion knew you weren’t the most gifted tailor. At least, not better than him. He could do a fine job, he’d been doing it with his own clothing for longer than he’d care to admit. A rare warmth spread through his chest as the idea came to him. When you least expected it, he’d take the fabric from you and fix your tunic before you even noticed it would be missing.

Something in him told him he just had to do this. To show you he cared, at least enough to do something as little at this… and to show you that you weren’t making a mistake as you stuck by him. Astarion closed his eyes as he shook out those unwanted thoughts. Not wanting to think about any of that or what it meant.

When Astarion opened his eyes he’s met with you walking away, a long piece of fabric hanging from your belt. A brief shot of panic ran through Astarion as you walked away, only deeper into the store to pay for fabric. Yet that didn’t shake away the fear. Astarion cleared his throat in order to push down the panic and put it with the rest of his emotions he was ignoring before he headed after you.

He doesn’t say anything, knowing he doesn’t need to. He knows you know he’s there. The wind blew through the store once again and your scent wafted straight into Astarion’s nose. He closed his eyes as he continued to follow you. He relished in the way you smelled. Focused and memorized it, knowing he could pick it out of an entire crowd of people. Aware of the fact that he could find you in an instant if needed. But still he preferred to remain close. Have you stay in his sights.

As he opened his eyes and looked back upon you, his eyes moved down your form. Not stopping until they halt at the fabric on your belt. He hand reached out and lightly fiddled with the end of it that flowed in the air after you. Neither of you have stopped walking, Astarion not thinking as he walked behind you. His attention completely focused on the fabric and the way it hung off of you. On how beautiful it would look on you.

He then noted how soft the fabric was. How easy or difficult it could possibly be to work with. A plan already had formed in his head at how he’d stitch it into your tunic. It would be flawless, just as all his other work had been prior. Just as his thoughts shifted into imagining your reaction, your voice broke him out of it.

“Are you trying to pickpocket me?” You ask softly, not having bothered to check back and glance at him. Astarion blinked back, hand still gripped onto the fabric, though his eyes found their way to the back of your head. Before he realized what he’s done, an easy grin was on his face and a joke had slipped from his lips.

“You, my darling? Never,” Astarion jested, both of them keenly aware of the fact. He gave a little tug on the fabric for good measure and was rewarded with the sweet melody of your laugh. You shook your head as you both turned a corner, seemingly in search of an attendant.

“Oh, don’t give me that. No one is safe,” you teased right back but for some reason Astarion felt his grin drop a little. His brows furrowed as he quickly thought over your response. The word ‘safe’ having run repeatedly in his ear. He wanted you to feel safe. With him. He wanted you to know that you were safe from him. Whatever that meant he didn’t exactly know but it was what he felt. From what he could pin point.

He debated even telling you all this. To have allowed himself to randomly unleash his soul to you in the middle of a random shop in a city that held so many memories for him. But then he started to think about what you’d say in response. How you would react. Emotion begun to rise within him at the idea of admitting any of that to do. So instead he simply continued the light and fun banter.

“Well now I suppose I must for fear that I have something to prove.” Astarion gave another tug to the fabric, though this time a little bit lighter in order to have kept up the playful atmosphere. As your laughter echoed throughout the store due to his actions, all those pesky emotions subsided.

You lightheartedly pranced forward a few steps in a weak attempt to get your fabric out of his reach but Astarion followed right on your tail. Both to stop you from getting away and to stop any other displaced emotions from coming forth from your distance.

“Or you could simply not steal my fabric from my person,” you responded with laughter still in your tone. Astarion tsked as he shook his head at you. He picked up his pace, walking closer to you now. He adjusted his grip on the fabric, getting ready for his next move.

“No, darling, I’m afraid that doesn’t seem to be an option,” he said smoothly before he harshly tugged on the fabric for the third time. It slipped from your belt with ease and curled right around Astarion’s hand. You immediately felt it and a gasp ripped from your throat.

You turned around, finally facing Astarion since you both walked in here. You looked breathtaking. Astarion could marvel at your beauty for hours. At times he’d almost swear it’s greater than his own. Almost. But he especially thought your beauty shined most spectacularly in the sun, and it had hit you just right in this moment.

“Ah, Astarion! Why must you do this?” You asked with a light grin on your face. Astarion mirrored it, holding the piece of fabric slightly above his head as he knew you wouldn’t be able to reach it. That didn’t stop you from trying as you stepped up to him to try and reach for it. Your body pressed against his and instead of feeling like he needed to back away, not wanting to be touched, Astarion found himself leaning into you.

“I believe you practically asked me to do this, love. Begged me to almost as much as you beg for my attention,” he boasted, his expression smug as you continued to try and grab at the fabric. He’d lower it briefly just as you’d reached for it but then quickly bring it back up. You laughed again, shaking your head at him. Astarion didn’t realize until that moment that he had been counting the number of times he had made you laugh. The revelation sent a tremor through his chest that he’d rather just ignore.

“My dear Astarion, I think that tadpole in your mind has finally driven you to insanity,” you said with a light scoff. Astarion’s face dropped into a deadpan at that, though he couldn’t help the quirk of his lips still present.

“Dear me, how humorous you are, darling,” he responded back flatly, though a teasing note was still clear through his tone. His attention zeroed in on you once again as you snickered back at him. Astarion fell deeper into his focus, his ears ringing till he felt a deep pounding surrounding him. He didn’t realize before it was too late that he had focused on your heartbeat. It sounded light. Happy. Because of him.

While he remained distracted, his body sagged in place, not paying attention to his momentary lack of posture. You don’t hesitate to use that to your advantage as with it he had lowered his arm that held the fabric. You reached up, your arm having stretched as far as it could go before you swiped up the fabric right from his grip. A noise of victory left your lips and it effectively alerted Astarion. He blinked back, breaking out of his thoughts. It only took a couple of seconds for him to realize he didn’t have the fabric anymore. He met your smug look with a bit of disbelief as his eyes connected back to yours.

“I try,” you replied playfully to his previous comment as you winked at him. Astarion stood there frozen for a moment before he added another mental tally as you laughed once more. You strode off to barter with the owner as Astarion stood off to the side while he waited for you.

He couldn’t understand how easy this all was for you. How open with yourself you had always been. Especially toward him. He… didn’t know how to do stuff like that. To let you in so easily. But stitching this for you, even without your initial knowledge, that he could do. It was the only way he knew how to express what you meant to him. It was all he was ready to do. For now anyway.

So as you walked past him after you purchased the fabric, Astarion stayed particularly close. As you both entered the hustle and bustle of Baldur’s Gate’s streets, there were a lot of things around you both that served as proper distraction. Astarion struck when the time was right, just as another vendor started a loud argument with a customer, you looked over and that’s when Astarion reached out and slipped the fabric off of you with the lightest touch he could have managed.

He gazed down at it with a smile on his face and a sense of victory in his heart, his thumb brushed over it lightly as he reminded himself of its softness. But when you started to turn your head back to him, his eyes jerked up and the fabric disappeared within the confines of his inventory. You snorted as ruckus that continued off to the side and as you looked at him, Astarion plastered on another one of his signature grins.

It was only after you chuckled at him and looked back forward that Astarion found his grin had softened. He looked toward the streets just as you had as he counted down the minutes till you both got back to camp and he could get started. He wondered if you’d like it and what you’d say when you found out. Most of all though he wondered if you’d know what it meant. If you’d see through him as you always seemed to. Strangely, this time around he kind of liked that thought.

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

I WANT A HEART TATTOO!

I'LL NEVER GET IT REMOVED!

synopsis// suguru gives you your first tattoo.

➚ pairing// tattoo artist!suguru geto x gn!reader

➚ word count// 2k

contents// friends to lovers, tattooed and pierced geto, reader is a chicken, mentions of drinking, maybe like the ittiest bittiest type of suggestive toward the end...? slightly teasing/cocky geto?

notes// this is kinda cringe but i am cringe and free. also this was inspired by heart tattoo by joyce manor (dont play with me rn.) hoping this will help hold yall off till i can finish the smau...

Geto meticulously cleans up his tattoo station, occasionally stopping to take a swig of the beer you so kindly brought him. 

“You’re quiet.” 

You hum as you take a sip of your own beer. 

He stops and turns around to face you, his eyebrow raised. “Why?” 

“I like watching you clean.” 

Geto laughs. Not just a small one either, but the kind that makes his nose crinkle and his cheeks bunch to the point his eyes are forced closed. You ignore the butterflies in your stomach, blaming it on the alcohol (even if this is only your first beer and definitely not enough to have any sort of effect on you, but you digress). 

“What’s so interesting about watching me clean anyway?” 

You huff, ignoring the increasing heat on your face. “I don’t know... Just shut up and finish cleaning, Suguru. I wanna leave.” 

He smiles and turns back around, continuing to clean. “I told you you could go home.” 

“And leave you to fend for yourself?”

“I’m a grown man.” 

“Whatever… Besides, I can’t drink all these beers by myself.” 

Geto doesn’t say anything, but his shoulders shake slightly with a small, silent laugh, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. You love his little quirks. You always have.

maybe a little too much.

Meanwhile, he picks up his tattoo machine and stares at it. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it; it’s just plain black, freshly wrapped in some black medical tape. 

“Hey Y/N?” 

“Something wrong?” 

He shakes his head and turns to face you again, tattoo machine still in hand. “You still don’t have any tattoos, huh?” 

“Um, no,” you respond sheepishly. “I’m not like scared or anything-“ 

“I wasn’t gonna say that.” 

“Oh. then what were you gonna say?” 

“Can I give you a tattoo?” 

You blink at him. It’s not like you don’t trust him. You trust Geto with your life. You trust him more than anyone or anything in the world. Shit, you might trust him even more than you trust yourself. It’s just…

Geto impatiently groans at your lack of answer. “Oh, cmon, you literally promised me when we were younger that you would let me tattoo you!” 

“That was when we were like twelve!” you scoff, in disbelief he’d throw something as old as that in your face… Maybe he’s been hanging around Gojo too much. 

“Give me one good reason why you won’t let me tattoo you.” 

You frown as you look away, and right away you can hear his footsteps as he places himself in your line of vision again. raising his eyebrows as if to ask, “well?” 

You mumble something under your breath that he doesn’t quite catch. “Y/N, you know I can’t hear you when you do that.” 

“I actually am scared!” you finally say loud enough for him to hear, and it comes out more like a single word than a full sentence.

Geto can't help but giggle, quickly slapping his hand over his mouth, but not even that helps.

“Suguru, this isn't funny; I'm being vulnerable here!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says through stifled laughter before finally calming down enough to clear his throat. “You're right, it isn’t funny,“ he pauses for a moment. ”Wanna know something?”

“What?”

“Getting tattooed scares me too.”

“Liar,” you scoff. “You're covered in them.”

Geto shrugs. “Doesn’t mean it’s not unnerving each time.”

“I just don’t want it to hurt,” you explain with a slight pout.

“It’s a needle going in and out of your skin, Y/N.”

“Exactly!”

“Fine,” Suguru says with a sigh, and you think that's it; he's done, but not even a few seconds later does he speak up again: “What if I said I'll be gentle?”

“Haha.” Your brain immediately short circuits, and the butterflies in your stomach are something you can't blame on the alcohol this time. “Huh.”

Geto laughs softly. “With your tattoo?”

You nod blankly, your brain still not working properly and not yet actually computing what he’s still asking you.

“Yes?” he confirms excitedly.

“Yeah…” Finally, it hits you. “Wait, no! I mean, no. and not to mention you’ve been drinking?”

“Like two sips, Y/N,” he says with a slight pout and roll of his eyes. “You know better than anyone; it takes a lot more than that to get me drunk.”

“Okay, well, what about me? Isn't it bad to get tattoed when you’ve been drinking?”

“Oh my god, just say yes or no. You know I won’t be mad if you decide not to.”

You stare deep into Geto’s eyes, and he’s not lying; he won't be mad. disappointed, sure, but not mad. never mad, never when it comes to you. And right then and there, your conviction crumbles into a million tiny pieces, just dust in the wind.

“…fine”

“fine?”

“You can tattoo me. But!" you exclaim, pointing a finger at him as if lecturing him, “it has to be small! and somewhere where it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay, I can't guarantee that last part, and you know that,” he says blankly.

You sigh in defeat. “Yeah, I know.”

Geto smiles at you softly and coos, “But I will try,” as he gently caresses your cheek before breaking away and turning around to pull back out the stuff he needs.

You stand there wide-eyed, and your jaw dropped. Geto is affectionate, sure, but he’s never been that affectionate. He couldn’t feel the same way, could he? You shake your head, denying that thought, even despite how hot you feel.

He just did that to comfort you.

That’s all.

He was just trying to be reassuring.

That's it.

At least that's what your brain is trying to say, but your heart is saying another with the way it violently beats against your rib cage.

The minute he turns around, you compose yourself, shutting your mouth and hoping to god he doesn’t notice your chest heaving almost uncontrollably.

Geto pats his tattoo chair. “Sit.”

You hesitate, standing there like a deer in headlights.

Geto clicks his tongue dramatically before grabbing your hand and leading you to his chair, mumbling a reassuring, “Trust me.”

You frown, placidly letting him drag you around like a rag doll. “I do trust you.”

“Then sit.”

And when he says it like that, how can you say no? When he’s staring at you so intently that it’s almost as if he can see right through you, how do you say no? You cant. So you don't. The only thing you can do is—petulantly—plop down into his tattoo chair.

“Sit right and lay your arm on the armrest.”

“No, do it like this.” By ‘this’ you mean with you hunched over and your arm resting on your leg rather than the armrest like Geto is telling you to.

He sighs deeply. "Y/N, your arm resting on your leg is not stable enough. like at all.”

“Do it like this or not at all.”

“Fine.” He raises an eyebrow at you in mild disapproval and says, "But if it comes out bad, it’s not my fault.”

You roll your eyes, unamused. Geto would never let anything he puts on your body come out even remotely bad. “Whatever.”

“Why like this anyway?”

“Because it’s comfortable..?”

Not really.

Like at all.

Actually, this is extremely uncomfortable, and you're sure your back will hate you later, but this gives you the best view of Geto, and that's all you care about.

“Okay, fine,” he says, not bothering to put up much more of a fight before getting in position. “Ready?”

“Yeah…” Not even a second later, you blurt out, “Wait!”

Geto’s head shoots up, his concerned eyes scanning your face intently. “What? What is it?”

You don't say a word; instead, you grab onto his shoulder with your free hand, prepared to claw into it if and when need be.

“Is that why you’re sitting like this?” He asks, a smug smile creeping onto his face as it finally hits him. “You just wanted to hold onto me?”

You nod sheepishly.

Geto smiles. “Are you ready now, then?”

You nod again.

but that's not good enough for him. He wants a real reply. “For real this time?”

“For real this time.”

Geto doesn't miss a beat, and you close your eyes as your face scrunches up in anticipation, your nails already sinking into his shoulder. But the minute the tattoo machine actually meets your skin, you peek one eye open because all you really feel is some vibration and the tiniest of scratches. It doesn’t hurt that bad at all, actually; it’s more than tolerable, and with that, your hand relaxes against his shoulder, still resting on it but no longer gripping him like he’s the only thing tying you to this earth.

It’s not long after that the feeling fades into the background of your mind, like a blur. Being tattooed isn’t even a thought in your brain at all right now. Geto could be tattooing a dick on your arm right now, and you wouldn’t even know because the only thing you can focus on is him.

The only thing you can ever focus on is him, if you’re being honest.

But right now, something is different. Seeing him in his element makes your knees go weak, and you’re grateful for the fact that you’re sitting. and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve never let him tattoo you sooner. You’d let him tattoo you a thousand more times if it meant you got to see him like this. He somehow makes the way he focuses look like art—from the way his brows are knitted together in concentration to the way he absentmindedly bites and fiddles with his lip piercings—it’s all art; he makes it look too beautiful. like he’s more modeling and pretending to focus than actually doing it. You involuntarily let out a deep, longing sigh, your eyes fluttering close in the process.

Geto’s gaze flits up to your face. “You're not about to pass out on me, right?”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze with a small, content smile on your face. “No, I'm fine, Suguru.”

“I mean, if you were, that would be fine too, because I'm done,” he replies, turning off his tattoo machine and moving away from you.

“Already?!” you ask, slightly shocked. It didn't feel like it had been that long.

“Yeah,” he says plainly as he stands up and starts quickly cleaning up his workstation once more. "Don't know what you were so scared of, dork.”

You open your mouth, ready to say something sarcastic or explain yourself, but before the words can even leave your mouth, before you can even think of them, Geto is turning back around to face you and cupping your chin in between his index finger and thumb.

Geto leans down at the same time he tilts your head up and places a chaste kiss on the corner of your (still open) mouth, cooing, “You took it so well.”

All you can do is laugh nervously. “What?” You're still giggling; you don't think you could do much else at this point. “What was that- Why did you just-“

Geto starts laughing along with you, except it’s not a defense mechanism for him; he’s just finding this all too amusing. “You didn't think I gave you a heart for no reason, did you?”

You quickly look down at your arm, the action ripping your chin out of Geto’s hold. “You gave me a heart,” you say absentmindedly, and it sounds more like a question than an actual statement.

“Are you just now noticing?” he asks, returning his hand to your chin and gently guiding you to look up at him again. “I thought you were watching the whole time.”

You swallow sharply, becoming acutely aware of how close his face is to yours again. “I was watching something the whole time, but it was not the actual tattoo.”

“Oh? and what was so much more interesting?”

“Mind your business-“

Geto barely even lets you finish your snarky remark before leaning in and kissing you again. except this time for real. except this time you kiss back.

and suddenly tattoos don’t seem so bad anymore, so long as they all end like this.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[soulofapatrick]

Safe in your Arms - Alec Lightwood x female reader 

Summary: You can’t sleep so you slip into bed with Alec

Words: 1.7K 

Warnings: none really 

Notes: This is written from female pov (my pov) however can be read as gender neutral so will put this story in both male and female reader 

Y/N’s POV

The darkness presses in around me, suffocating and heavy. Another sleepless night grips me tightly, refusing to release its hold. With a sigh, I rise from the bed, the covers slipping off my like unwanted shackles. 

Padding down the familiar corridors of the Institute, my footsteps echo softly against the stone floors. The hushed whispers of the night greet me, a comforting presence in the solitude. Each door I pass I hesitate, unsure who I’m looking for comfort in. 

I barely pause outside Clary’s room as we’ve never seen eye to eye so I continue on, finding myself outside Izzy’s door. The familiar, faint scent of jasmine wafting though the air. She's always been a source of strength and support, but tonight, the idea of seeking refuge in her embrace feels somehow... wrong, too intimate. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something holds me back, a silent voice urging me to continue my search elsewhere.

Jace’s door looms ahead, a silent invitation beckoning me to seek shelter within his presence. For a moment, I hesitate, my hand hovering over the door handle as memories of shared laughter and whispered secrets flood my mind. But then, with a heavy sigh, I pull away, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down upon me like a leaden cloak.

My fingers ghost over Simon's door, the thought of seeking solace in his company tempting yet ultimately unfulfilling. We may share a bond forged in battle, but there's a divide between us that I can't seem to breach. With a sigh, I move on, the ache of loneliness gnawing at my heart with each passing moment.

And then, finally, I find myself standing outside Alec’s room, the door a silent barrier between me and the solace I seek. With a hesitant hand, I push the door open, the soft creak of hinges breaking the silence like a whisper in the night. 

Inside, the room is bathed in a gentle glow, the moonlight filtering through the curtains casting shadows across the floor. Alec lies asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. For a moment, I simply stand there, drinking in the sight of him. Gone is the usual tension that seems to etch lines into his features during the waking hours. Instead, his face is softened by slumber, his expression serene and unguarded. The furrow of his brow, which often accompanies his deep concentration or stern demeanour, is smoothed away, replaced by an air of tranquility.

A small smile graces his lips, a sight so rare it’s almost surreal. It’s a stark contrast to the usual scowl that seems to be his default expression during the day. In this moment of vulnerability, his true essence shines through, a gentle warmth that draws me in like a moth to a flame. 

I find myself captivated by the peacefulness that radiates from him, the subtle rise and fall of his chest a soothing rhythm that lulls me into a sense of calm. It's as if all the worries and burdens of the world have been momentarily lifted from his shoulders, leaving behind only the purest essence of who he is.

In this moment, Alec is not the fierce warrior or the stoic leader. He is simply Alec, vulnerable and human, a reminder that even the strongest among us need rest and respite from the battles we face.

And as I gaze upon him, a small smile tugs at the corners of my own lips, mirroring the one that graces his face. I hesitate for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest, before I gently lift the duvet and slide into the bed beside Alec. The rustling of the sheets stir him from his slumber, his eyelids fluttering open blearily as he tries to make sense of the intrusion. 

“Wha—?" His voice is thick with sleep, the words trailing off into a soft murmur as he blinks owlishly at me. Confusion dances in the depths of his eyes, but there's also a hint of warmth, a flicker of recognition that warms my soul.

“What are you doing Birdie?" he mumbles, his words barely audible in the stillness of the room., the nickname he’s given me sending a shiver down my spine. Despite the grogginess that clouds his mind, there's a note of curiosity in his voice, a silent question hanging in the air between us. 

"I couldn't sleep," I confess quietly, my voice barely more than a whisper. "And... I needed to be near you.”

Alec’s expression softens at my words, a silent understanding passing between us. Without a word, he shifts around in the bed, making room for me to settle beside him. The duvet envelops us both in its warmth as we find our positions, his body fitting against mine like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. 

We settle into our newfound arrangement, a sense of peace washes over me, a warmth that seeps into my bones and drives away the chill of the night. In Alec's arms, I find sanctuary from the storms that rage within me, a refuge from the chaos of the world outside. And as sleep begins to claim me once more, I find solace in the knowledge that, for tonight at least, I am not alone. 

As the first rays of dawn  filter through the curtains, I gradually awaken from the depths of sleep, the heaviness of slumber clinging to my limbs like a comforting embrace. The warmth of Alec's presence envelops me, his arm draped protectively over my waist, anchoring me to the present moment.

I can feel the weight of his body pressed against mine, a comforting solidity that grounds me in reality. His unruly black hair tickles my cheek, a stark contrast to the softness of his lips pressed against my shoulder where my shirt has slipped slightly.

Alec emits a soft snuffle in his sleep as I gently begin to scratch his scalp, the motion soothing both him and me. His breath is warm against my skin, a gentle rhythm that lulls me back into a state of tranquility. 

He shuffles around as he begins to slowly slip from sleep, his brilliant blue eyes fluttering open, revealing a sleep-ridden expression that tugs at my heartstrings. There’s a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability that I've rarely seen in him before. And as his eyes meet mine, a flicker of recognition dances in their depths, as if he's just now realizing that I'm here, lying beside him. 

For a moment, we simply stare at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between us. And then, slowly but surely, a small smile tugs at the corners of Alec's lips, a gesture so tender and genuine that it sends my heart soaring. 

Alec brushes the hair out of my face, his touch gentle, his fingers singing against my skin as if committing the moment to memory. I can feel the intensity of his gaze as he studies my face, his eyes searching for something, perhaps an answer to the question that lingers between us. 

And then, without warning, he moves forward, his face hovering just inches from mine. My breath catches in my throat as anticipation coils within me, every nerve in my body on edge with anticipation. 

And then, finally, his lips crash against mine in a kiss that sends shockwaves coursing through my veins. It’s everything I've ever imagined and more, his lips soft and plump against mine, fitting together with a perfect symmetry that feels like coming home. He rolls us from our sides so he’s leaving over me, his weight above me feeling right, perfect almost, as if we were always meant to be in this position. 

His kisses are a revelation, each one tasting of warmth and longing, a tantalising blend of sweetness and desire that leaves me breathless. I can feel the heat of his body pressing against mine, his warmth seeping into my skin and sending shivers racing down my spine. 

With every touch, every caress, I lose myself in the sensation of him, the feel of his lips against mine, the brush of his fingers against my skin. He smells of sandalwood and strawberries, a heady combination that fills my senses and leaves me intoxicated with desire. 

In this moment, with Alec pressed against me, every nerve in my body tingles with anticipation. It's as if the world around us fades away, leaving only the two of us in our own little universe, bound together by the intensity of our connection.

But, just as our passion threatens to consume us, a quiet knock at the bedroom door shatters the fragile bubble we've created. Alec lets out a quiet groan, his head falling to my shoulder in frustration before he clears his throat and calls out, "One second!” 

As he climbs out of the bed to open the door slightly, I sit up, the sheets rustling around me, betraying the fact that Alec's not alone. My heart races with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, unsure of what awaits us on the other side of that door. 

And then, as Alec peers out into the hallway, his expression unreadable, I catch a glimpse of blond meaning it’s Jace standing in the corridor, his presence casting a shadow over our moment of intimacy. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realise that our time alone together may be coming to an abrupt end.

Alec hisses something to Jace before closing the door and turning back to me, his eyes raking up my body, blue eyes darkening before he’s shaking his head and asking, “Breakfast?” 

“Clothes then breakfast?”

“You can wear some of mine, then breakfast.” 

“Deal.” 

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[hoe4hotchner]

So what do you think about hotch and reader being neighbors, and they ended up being very close to each other, reader watches jack for him during a case, bake him some goodies, they have each other's house keys for emergencies, etc.

I was thinking about every time the team can, one of them hosts a little game night for them. And it was hotch's turn as a host. I was imagining they go to his house right after a paper work day, for some reason the team enters his house before than him, and they caught reader red handed on his wine rack choosing a bottle to take home for a night (to be fair she was searching for the cheapest one so she could buy and replace it) and she’s like “wtf do I do???”

I want to see what you can do with this 😅

A/N: This was so much fun to write!!!! I love this ❤️

Link to my inbox

After a long day at work, you stopped by Aaron's house to “borrow” a bottle of wine, planning to replace it later. You were in your favorite pajamas, feeling completely comfortable in his home as you looked through his wine rack, trying to pick the cheapest bottle.

Just as you reached for a bottle that looked suitably modest, you heard the sound of voices and footsteps. You froze, heart pounding. Peeking around the corner, you realized it wasn't just Hotch—it was his entire team. They arrived together, earlier than you expected. Hotch had mentioned the game night to you in passing, but you'd forgotten it was today. Panic rose in you as you realized you were about to be caught red-handed in your pajamas, holding one of his wine bottles. This was certainly not the first impression and meeting you’d like to give or have with his team.

Before you could make a graceful exit through the backdoor, Hotch and his team walked into the kitchen. They all stopped a few steps short of you, clearly not expecting to find you there. The sudden attention made your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Uh… hi?” you said awkwardly, shifting the bottle in your hands. You had never met his team before, and the situation felt more than a little awkward.

There was a beat of silence, and then Garcia, stepped forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and delight. Hotch had told you about everyone on the team before, but Penelope's colorful attire made you instantly recognize her. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise! You must be the neighbor Hotch is always talking about!” she exclaimed, her warm smile instantly putting you somewhat at ease. “Why don’t you join us for game night? We’d love to have you!”

You blinked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden invitation. You glanced over at Hotch, hoping for some guidance, but his expression was unreadable. He stepped forward, his gaze softening as he took in your nervousness.

“It’s okay, she doesn’t have to,” he said gently as if sensing your hesitation and not wanting you to feel pressured. But there was a tone to his voice, almost like he wouldn’t mind if you stayed.

You hesitated, looking at the group of strangers who seemed so close-knit, then back at Hotch, whose presence always made you feel safe. Finally, you nodded, offering a small smile. “I guess I could stick around for a bit,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Garcia beamed and waved you over. You reluctantly let her lead you into the living room where the rest of the team had already gathered as you made your decision. You still felt a bit out of place, especially since everyone else seemed to know each other so well, but as the night went on, the team’s friendliness started to chip away at your discomfort.

Hotch stayed close to you all night, subtly making sure you were comfortable, and before long, you were exchanging light banter with him, the ease between you two gradually returned. It was obvious to everyone that there was something more than friendship in the air with the way you interacted, though neither of you seemed fully aware of it.

The night unfolded with laughter, games, and plenty of wine. The team, though unfamiliar at first, quickly became more welcoming, especially as the alcohol loosened everyone up.

It was well past midnight, and the living room was filled with the sound of laughter, slurred words, and the occasional clink of glasses. That was when Emily, clearly more intoxicated than the rest, suddenly pointed at Hotch, her eyes half-lidded but sharp with a drunken clarity.

“Oh come on, Hotch!” she slurred, her words loud and stumbling. “Just admit it—you like her!”

Her outburst cut through the chatter, and the room fell silent, everyone turning to look at you and Hotch. You felt your heart race, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and something else. You glanced at Hotch, who looked equally taken aback, his usual composed expression slipping as he processed what Emily had just said.

The silence stretched for a moment too long, making the whole team burst into loud laughter, the drunken energy in the room amplified the teasing. Garcia practically doubled over, and Morgan was grinning from ear to ear as he nudged Hotch with a playful elbow.

Hotch, still caught off guard, managed a half-smile, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes as he met your gaze—a question, maybe, or a realization neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. As the night wound down, the tension from Emily’s outburst lingered, leaving you both wondering if there was more to your relationship than just being neighbors. Only time would tell.

Consider linking or reblogging if you enjoy my work.... I will kiss you on the forehead as a thanks ;)

[madschiavelique]

dude imagine Miguel overhearing you talk to your friends about all the things you’d let him do to you in the most vile ways possible. like you’re just talking with your homies about how you’d have to get pried off of his dick if he let you smash or that you can’t hear him talk over how loud his ass looks in his jeans or whatever I dunno I think it’s amusing lmao

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH i just had to write a lil smth anon<33

summary : you talk about how you're down bad for miguel to your friends, and he hears it content warnings : mentions of SMUT (18+) minors dni, just reader being down bad for Miguel, no use of Y/N word count : 660 tag list : @fandom-ash

“Honestly, I’d suck him like a watermelon through a straw”

You were gathered in the cafeteria, not many people left, and Miguel was seated at a table not far from where you and your friends were seated. Whatever he was thinking about was soon replaced by listening to your conversation as soon as this sentence was uttered by you.

"Your mouth couldn't handle the size of him," sneered one of your friends to the others. "You'd dislocate your jaw."

"Some sacrifices are worth making," you sighed thoughtfully, your chin resting on your hand. You let out an almost childish whimper, "what I'd give to just impale myself on him!"

"Lord, you'd never let him leave your body, would you?" laughed another friend.

"Never!" you confirmed as you straightened up, "Miguel is so perfect... did you ever see how he walked? How his ass is round and perfect and to die for?!" your voice almost broke as your hands mimed grabbing something and kneading.

Miguel's ears began to heat up and he placed his hand over his mouth as he tried to keep his composure.

"What about his back? Oh..." you say, letting your head fall back, "I'd leave such beautiful nail marks on it."

"Wow, your marks?" laughed one as she reached for her drink.

"Pantone #996767, google it," you sigh.

"I think it's foam I'm seeing at the corners of your lips, you rabid slut," sneered one of them.

"But imagine, his pecs, touching them, laying my head on them, feeling them against my back as he pulls my hair..."

See when cartoon characters have hearts in their eyes? It was pretty close to what you looked like. And surprisingly, Miguel was starting to feel cramped in his pants.

"You're down bad," breathed one of your friends.

"I'd let him break me, I'll be his toy, he can do whatever he sees fit with me and I'll say thank you."

"Even bite you?" inquired another, well aware of the immobilizing properties of his venom.

"Especially bite me." you asserted with a burst of voice that was half laugh and half sigh.

"Would you have the courage to say all that to his face?"

"No way, he'd look at me like an alien."

"You're pretty close to looking like one at that," laughed one of the girls.

You continued to laugh, then when your meal was finished, you left the cafeteria. A few hours later in the afternoon, Miguel called you to his office. You were probably expecting him to send you to a dimension to catch an anomaly, or try to bring in a new Spider-Man.

But instead, as you walked up to him at a respectable distance for a boss and his employee, he asked you a simple question:

"Did you mean it?"

The question confused you.

"What?"

He turned to you, stepping forward a little more, one step at a time. His gaze seemed almost amused, but your habit of polite distance made you step back.

"Everything you said about me to your friends earlier in the cafeteria," your back halted against a wall as he approached again, coming very close to you, "did you mean it?"

Your heart began to pound in your chest as your cheeks heated up.

"Well?" he asked, towering over you as he put his hand next to your head against the wall, coming closer until only a few inches separated you. "I'd be very disappointed if all this were just words thrown into the air."

You swallow, your eyes falling ineluctably on his lips as you moisten yours, your gaze returning to his.

"Yes, I meant it."

His lip stretches to the side, his smile revealing his pointed fang.

"Lyla, status of the doors." he asked, his free hand coming down along your waist.

"Locked." she replied.

His hand slid up to grip your buttock, leaning in until his lips whispered against your ear:

"I hope you keep your word."

[anystalker707]

so this is love

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x [gender-neutral] Reader Synopsis: You're overwhelmed, and your awkward boyfriend wants to help Tags: Law is learning how to take care of his partner / comfort / soft

Requested by anon ["Helloooo!! Hope you’re well 🫶 if you’re open for requests, would it be alright to ask of a comfort scinario with law and an overwhelmed reader? They don’t know what to do so they try to work it off or shut it off somehow, but Law notices and has other ways to help? You can take it any direction !! (You can also skip if it’s weird aaa just needing some law comfort lately :< also love your Sanji comfort keep it up !!) Take care of yourself, you’re an amazing writer! Have a good one <3"]

MASTER LIST

Law was good at studying people’s behavior. It was tactical. It helped a lot in making plans and alliances, not to mention how it helped improve the crew’s bond. Now, though, it was helping his relationship.

The distance you imposed over everything and everyone else had been there for a while, but it only ticked Law when your absence was noticeable to him. He closed his hand around nothing, feeling his cold fingertips press against his own palm instead of your warm hand, and the banter between the other pirates quickly became a useless distraction in the back of his mind. He would catch up with Kid and Luffy later—and given their unpredictability, it would be the same as if he never left—, and being away from that intense bickering would give his nerves a nice break.

Law’s eyes roamed around the place for a moment. You weren’t with Chopper, Bepo, or Killer, or sitting somewhere quieter with a newspaper or a random thing in hand, so he had to think a little more about it. He took a deep breath, drumming his fingers over his sword. There weren’t a lot of places to be there on that coast of the island, especially when you didn’t want to be seen by anyone else, including locals.

“Seen (y/n)?” Law muttered to Chopper, who seemed to think for a moment.

“They said they were thirsty,” Chopper said, looking around, and he didn’t have the opportunity to say anything else before Law left.

The sound of the others’ bickering was muffled by the waves crashing against the shore the further away Law walked, trying to find you. The chances of you being caught by the marine or anyone else that mattered was sparse, but still… Law bit the inner side of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing a little as he walked a little faster, and a heavy breath escaped his lips once he saw you sitting back against a tree, tapping a foot repeatedly against the ground while muttering something under your breath.

Relief mixed with a new kind of concern inside Law’s chest as he stepped closer. What should he do, honestly? He had never been close like that to someone else, and he didn’t want to ruin what he already had with you. Law looked down at you with. Your lack of reaction to his approach made his heart tighten, so he just stood there, eventually nudging your foot with his own.

“Love,” Law said, finally, but he couldn’t do much more than a whisper. “Love,” he insisted, and his worry faded away when you looked up, glaring at him with a playful air on your face, making him exhale with a small smile. “I was looking for you,” he said as he sat down beside you slowly, sighing as he leaned back against the tree as well.

“Looking for me,” you muttered, and he nodded.

“Of course,” Law added, raising an eyebrow. Why wouldn’t he be looking for you in a situation like that? Either way, knowing what was going on was more important, and he had to approach it somehow. The more he thought, the harder it got, and he couldn’t find the words to touch the subject smoothly. “Are you alright?” He followed your gaze to the sea, not wanting to put any pressure on you, possibly.

Only the sound of the waves filled in for the following minutes, eventually followed by your sigh. “I… I don’t know. It’s kinda annoying. There’s so much stuff going on. Like, we have a plan, we have to make sure the plan is done, so we also have to be careful and know how to deal with the other crews, but we also have to hide from the marine, mind ourselves… It’s annoying and boring, at the same time. I wish I could run away from that for a while, and find something more useful and nicer to do, but there’s always something to worry about. We haven’t been able to relax or anything for weeks.”

Law’s eyebrows rose lightly as he slowly nodded. He knew the feeling, but it had been a long time since he’d learned to ignore it, so he took a while to answer. He had no lover or comfort person back then, but if he did, he surely would’ve wanted them to be around and help him. Learning boundaries was still a work in progress, but he knew he could do this. Or, at least, he hoped.

“It’s fine, many things are happening all at once. New things,” Law mumbled as he wrapped an arm around you slowly. He made sure to take his time to make every move, always giving you time to pull away in case you wanted to. Maybe you wanted to be alone, though. “Do you—”

“Thanks for being here,” you muttered, resting your head against his shoulder. “I wish I could turn my brain off for a moment. Can you just ‘shambles’ it away for a while?” You joked, and he couldn’t help but scoff, eyes widening lightly.

“I wish I could ‘shambles’ us away from this mess, actually,” Law muttered as he grew more confident and wrapped both his arms around you, pressing a few soft kisses to your cheek. The sight of your smile made Law’s heart flutter, and his shoulders dropped with the tension wearing off. “But I can be here for you. Does this count?”

You nodded slowly, a small smile on your lips, contrasting with the tired haze in your eyes. “It’s more than enough, actually,” you sighed, leaning more into Law, and he finally felt like he was doing something right. The warmth that spread in his chest made him feel all giddy and comforted, wanting to hold you even closer.

“Come here,” Law muttered, adjusting his position, and eventually, you were sitting down between his legs, with your back against his chest, slumping a little. It wasn’t ideal, but it felt like heaven right now, compared to everything else, even more so with Law’s comforting touches, fingertips pressing gently against your scalp as he massaged it, aside from the soft kisses he occasionally pressed to your shoulder. All in the right measure. “Is this too much?”

“No, it’s just enough,” you whispered. Your eyes closed, and Law took a few seconds to admire the sight lovingly.

“We don’t need to go back so soon. Let’s just be here. Just us,” Law whispered as he settled his arms around you, holding you close. There were pauses between his words, seconds he took to think and rethink his words, trying his best to ignore the awkwardness. After all, you loved him just the way he was, right? Awkward or not. Just like he loved you back. Overwhelmed or not, and he wanted to take care of you.

Law ran his fingers through your hair, pulling your head back against his shoulder, and he was pleased when he felt you relax against him, your eyes closing. A few words were stuck in Law’s throat, never stringing together enough to be worth saying, so he opted to remain silent for the time being, holding you against him. He could do so many things and beat so many people up, but he still couldn’t prevent you from becoming overwhelmed like that.

“You’re comfortable,” you whispered, unintentionally fishing Law away from the bad thoughts and erasing that annoying feeling away from his chest, instead focusing on the way you pressed closer. “Can we stay here for a while? Can I take a nap here?”

For a moment, every word seemed to disappear from his mind, but Law finally exhaled, nodding. “Yes, of course, love.”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.