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wandasaura · 7 months

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LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly.

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in.

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation.

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic.

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.”

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step.

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought.

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?”

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen.

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented.

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.”

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now.

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store.

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is.

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression.

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.”

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you.

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry.

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways.

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable, but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?”

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes.

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?”

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night.

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied.

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills.

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there.

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week.

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk.

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?”

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.”

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.”

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester.

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures.

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this.

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.”

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back.

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time.

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree.

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months.

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway.

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself.

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve.

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have.

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction.

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands.

“Good girls get to watch movies.” She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further.

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone.

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it.

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music.

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go.

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero.

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before.

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy.

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?”

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.”

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking.

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.”

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.”

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week.

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger.

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.”

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer.

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her.

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.”

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?”

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence.

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting.

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline.

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well.

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.”

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance.

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to.

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.”

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same.

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship.

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.”

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.”

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.”

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions.

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason.

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.”

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places.

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile.

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you.

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.”

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest.

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours.

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.”

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs.

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?”

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through.

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air.

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful.

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet.

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.”

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true.

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?”

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again.

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour.

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore.

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs.

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.”

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way.

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.”

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away.

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

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dancewithdeath11 · 1 month

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Confidence

Pairing: Tyler Owens X Reader

Summary: Who ever knew a cocky tornado wrangler like Tyler Owens would fall so far..

Warnings: If you’ve seen that one chair scene with Jensen Ackles in Devour.. Then yes. 18+ Smut (Kinda? Lost motivation but I just wanted to finish it. not proud of it but idgaf) riding, petnames, hair pulling, no finish in sight but lets imagine they do together.

Word count: short and sweet, I’m not fucking counting.

======

“Darlin’, baby- please..”

Never in a million years did you think you’d hear such a needy whine leave the lips of Tyler Owens. But here he was. His hands eagerly brush along your skin, not being able to decide where to grip. Little whimpers fell from his lips as his face screwed up in ecstasy. His head fell back against the seat as you rode him mercilessly in the back seat of his truck.

You were just as eager. Hands gripping his neck and tugging him back towards reality. Back to you. Greedily wanting him to not check out, to give you attention. Not letting him completely drown just yet. Fingers digging into his hair as you guided his mouth to your neck, he complied and mouthed at your throat. Sloppy, wet, half focused as he kissed and nipped at the sensitive skin.

A dumb smile spreads on your lips as you grind and bounce on his aching cock. Your thighs burning with the effort, your knee digging into the buckle by his hip. But fuck…he felt so good. And he sounded better. Hell, he was more vocal than you at this point.

You’d danced around having sex for months by now. Little drunken bar makeouts, a heated kiss after a close call. But that was it.

Till now. You finally took the initiative after he seemed like he was going to pull away again. Now here you two are. Working things out.

Hot pants leaving both your lips, hotter hands exploring exposed skin for the first time. Discovering then taking advantage of each other's weaknesses, trying to see how fast the other would crumble. Like if you slowed down, he’d whine more. And it was so satisfying as you did just that. Slowing to a languid grind on his lap, feeling the scratch of his zipper on your ass as you let out a sigh.

He whimpered and gripped your hips tighter, “Fuck, fuck-”

“C’mon baby, speak up…” You whispered to him. He pulled away and looked up at you with an almost pained, dazed expression. Hands come up to cup his face, getting him to focus on you. Not that he could focus on anything else anyways. Bringing a hand up to card through your hair, a confident smirk on your lips as you got him to meet your eyes. His green eyes were brimmed with tears. God, he looked wrecked. “What happened to all that confidence, cowboy?”

#Tyler Owens Fanfic #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens smut

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st4rbwrry · 4 months

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𝐵𝒰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝒢𝒰𝑀.

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: ellie finger fucks you after you get your nails done since they’re too long to do yourself. ♡

‍warnings ౨ৎ 2.5k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, black coded, creaming, sub/dom, dirty talk, daddy kink, ellie smokes cigs swrry, fingering, finger sucking, kissing, bit of a bratty reader, spoiled!reader, ellie is too irritated so she gets nasty in the car, dry humping, choking, thigh spanks, praise, pet names [ baby. mamas. sweetie. princess ], established relationship. reblogs & comments are appreciated! <3

can’t help but picture the way ellie would finger fuck you after paying for your nails to get done, the bubblegum pink acrylics, also stiletto shaped with white patterns of pretty shit making it difficult for you to do the deed yourself. the eye roll ellie gives you as she leans against the black vechicle behind you, puffing on a cigarette she swore she’d quit a million times as you leave the vicinity of the salon, twiddling your dainty fingers for her to view. a cloud of smoke is blown past her plush pink lips as she gives you that knowing glare, that shape insanely disrespectful in her mind. how the fuck were you going to take care of her if she needed it? the disapproving upturned pout of your girlfriend’s lips give you that sinking feeling in your gut, knowing she’d do that the instant she saw them. but they were so pretty, and you wanted to try something new.

“daddy, hiiiii!” that sweet tone of yours sing as her pretty princess approaches her, smooching her freckled face. ellie’s lips reminded in a tight line, groaning as she trailed her hand down the middle of your back and to your ass that’s nearly exposed from the wind blowing, or rather the short length of it.

“lemme see your nails,” ellie rasps, tossing her cigarette to the side as she stares down at you with an unreadable expression. scary and intimidating as usual.

you don’t know why you’re so nervous, slowly raising your hands to her view for her to see clearer. a deep swallow catches her attention, eyeing your throat before bringing her tatted hands up to enclose your fingers with her. your arms rise as she lifts your hands that hold hers, ellie humming as she looks at the dozens of iridescent gems.

“cute.”

you bat your falsies. “yes? you like ‘em, baby?”

ellie nods only once. “let’s go get you some food. you barely ate the waffles i made this morning.”

you chose to ignore her comment, nodding your head and entering the brand new chevrolet trailblazer after she opened the door for you, it slamming unintentionally hard before ellie’s strolling to the drivers seat. you take attention to her attire today; all black, tight black tee and slightly loose jeans, her white calvin klein briefs showing as she hikes herself into the truck. always expensive smelling; like musk and vanilla. the chain you’d given her with your initial currently being frustratingly chewed at as she put extra pressure into the gas.

you keep your thighs pressed together with your hands nuzzled in between, forearms pushing your tits adorned in your baby blue tube top together, the white tennis skirt on your hips too high up, making your thighs stick to the leather seats. the humidity is high outside today, reaching over to turn the ac on. ellie’s barely paying attention to you, which means she’s upset, her attention on you ninety-six percent of the time.

“baby, i’ve missed you all day,” you lean comfortably against the seat as you turn your head in her direction, lifting one hand to caress her jaw, leading up to the chocolate brown hair on her head, half tied up. her green eyes give you a mere glimpse, unnoticeably gripping the steering wheel tighter from the way you speak and the siren glare your eyes. fuck, you’re irresistible.

“have you,” she mumbles, breath hitching the lower your hand trails, now smoothing over her neckline, drifting to the slim of her waist as your fingers lift her shirt, nails gently scratching her tanned skin.

ellie tries to ignore the heat building in her tummy. “all. day.”

the truck stops at a red light, ellie taking this moment to look at you, watching the way your hips seductively sway in your spot. a thick brow raises at your attempt of distracting her, more-so making her forget about what you did. she’s not dumb.

“stop, your being a brat,” ellie says sternly, but you protest, a pout on your full lips and your eyes blown innocently. your hand drifts further down, nearing the front of her chest to feel the fabric of her sports bra to the warmth of her stomach.

“i want you,” now you’re leaning over the center console, ellie’s cheeks turning red as you skim your lips over her flushed skin, ellie’s free hand reaching over to firmly press the pads of her fingers into your soft thigh, directly near your pussy.

“was thinkin’ about you during my hair appointment earlier, tried my very best not to cum in my seat,” your hair is pretty, the bouncy dark curls fitting the structure of your face perfectly. ellie clenches her jaw at the thought of that. “you make me so needy.”

the swerve of the car makes you grip onto her inked drawn forearm, staring at the road cautiously as she finds somewhere secretive to park. an empty alleyway. ellie breathes out heavy air before she’s rolling up the windows and turning up the music slightly, hold on by the internet playing soothingly. a mixture of pleasure, excitement, and nervousness paints the picture on your face, biting your lip to keep your sounds to yourself.

ellie runs her hand through her hair, leaning back in her seat she adjusts back to give you enough space to reside. ellie leans over your side to wrap her right arm around you waist, using the other to lock under your legs to pull you over the console, a squeak coming from your throat as she adjusts you on top of her, back to her chest.

“spread your fucking legs,” her breath tickles your earlobe and immediately you whimper, slick built up in your panties practically all day. you didn’t care if this was a punishment or for her own satisfaction, you just wanted her to fuck you. “right now, [ ♡ ].”

your name drips off of her tongue like poison, sinking your teeth into your lower lip even harder, her skin on your skin intoxicating. without another command, you disconnect your knees to open yourself up for her to access, sneaker covered feet touching the glass of the drivers window while your other leveled in the air. you feel ellie’s fingertips slug onto the middle of your thighs where the heat brews, aggressively smacking your inner thighs, as well as the outside.

you moan, breath shaking and grinding above her, head rolling back to rest on her shoulder, her touch inflaming your entire body. voice alone enough to make you cum. ellie pulls on the black material covering your pussy, patting her fingers over your clothed clit almost seeping through from your slickness. inhaling sharply from the impact, you whimper a tiny ‘nnn, baby’, trying to push yourself onto her palm for added pressure. ellie grunts, hand coming around your neck to choke you and hold you still.

“take this shit off,” ellie breathlessly whispers, snapping the material against your brown skin, the grip around your throat tightening.

you do as told, ellie placing her hands on the globes of your ass to hover you above herself while you slip off your panties, leaving them to rest at your ankles before lowering you back to sit on her lap. she’s soaked in her briefs right now, but you couldn’t tell, whining like a needy girl, only worrying about yourself. your cheeks are hot, eyes lowered erotically while you stare at your girlfriend, wanting her to hurry.

“so mad at you for those pretty ass nails,” she spanks your thigh again, your tummy caving in and your clit pulsing. “getting that fucking shape knowing you can’t fuck me for another two weeks.”

“s-sorry, daddy,” you feel yourself drip between your ass cheeks, staining her jeans.

“no you’re not, or else you wouldn’t ‘f done it,” your stomach caves in as ellie’s palm rests on your jaw, thumb digging in your cheek as she forces you to watch yourself, study the way she strokes your puffy pussy with her fingers, spreading your arousal.

“oh my god, you’re so goddamn wet,” ellie moans keenly, jaw dropping and brows knitted together as her fingers feel the warmth of your pussy, slowly sinking into your glossy cavern briefly. “i shouldn’t even fuck you. don’t think you deserve it, mamas.”

the way your eyes are stuck in the back of your head from her voice in your ear makes you wheeze, unable to pause the way your hips grind into her, needing her so badly it was becoming painful. you turn your head to kiss at her thumb, sticking your tongue out to lick and suck at it, ellie fixating on your tits beginning to slip from their enclosure of your top. ellie wastes not a moment later tugging them to sit underneath the heaviness of them, piercings gleaming on taut nipples. her palms take ahold of them, squeezing and molding with awe.

“fuck yourself,” her tongue underneath your jaw now, your body nearly tilted completely to your right side as you roll with pettiness, that bratty whimper filling the vehicle. ellie holds your legs back for better view, and you wanted to crawl into the back seat. part of you dissatisfied with her request.

the sadness in your eyes shows as you mutter, “c-can’t, ellie. my nails.”

“don’t wanna hear it, sweetie. should’ve thought about that before you got them done,” ellie kisses your neck gently, always managing to be sweet even through anger. “do what i say. rub your pussy, you can’t have my fingers ‘til i say so.”

if you complied, she’d have no choice but to pleasure her wife. make you feel good like she always does. so, you do as told. taking your right hand to rub your clit in pathetic little circles, soaking yourself and her at this point, ellie shifting beneath you with pent up sexual attraction, listening to how wet you were for her, loud even over the music. a never ending reward.

“nng, daddy, wan’ you,” a choke gets caught in your throat as you arch your back and collect your wetness to rub yourself quicker. although it feels good, it’s not enough, it’s not what you really crave, what you’re desperate for. you want her fingers.

“you can go fuckin’ faster,” ellie grits her teeth in your ear, spanking your thigh once again. . . maybe even three times. just enough to hear you scream and cry. “c’mon, girl. make it sweet. i want it wet enough to drown my fuckin’ fingers in.”

the key words; my fingers. that draws a sadistic grin onto your face, a happy one at that. she’s craving to stuff her fingers into you just as much as you want them. she just needs you to comply. to be a good girl. do as you’re told. fuck yourself like you want it. your clit throbs incessantly, highly sensitive from your fantasies all day about her. . . swollen and needy for attention.

“lick my fingers, ells,” guiding your fingers towards her mouth, ellie wraps her lips around them without a second thought, getting them wet while swirling her tongue around and moaning filthily. you moan along with her, whimpering from the interaction, eyes shutting briefly from the pleasure building in your tummy.

“you’re so hot,” you whimper with truth, she truly was. her jade eyes intensely drooping before she releases your fingers, eyes darkening as she leans closer to peck her pouty lips with your own. a quick one two, before slurping her salvia down her throat, humming loudly.

“yeah. now guide ‘em to that pussy, and fuck it for me,” she’s not repeating herself anymore. you nod quickly, rubbing her salvia over the mound of your cunt before slivering your fingers to your opening, collecting more of your juices and spreading your pretty lips apart for the engorged clit hiding between. ellie pulls her upper body to rest her head against the doors window while your head falls back onto the seat, wanting to catch a better look, blindly thrusting her hips up into you alls while digging her fingers into your waist to yank you down simultaneously. the friction and collision causing you to sob and rub yourself faster the way she likes to see.

“there we go, atta girl,” she loves to give you that motion of actually fucking her, ellie’s eyes almost rolling back into her skull as she drops you down a bit quicker, hearing that beautiful voice of yours talk in tongues, or call her name. “that’s it, mamas. you look so pretty for daddy.”

“f-fuck!” a sob erupts from you, ellie’s harsh thrusts fucking with your head. the imagery running awry. “g-god, ellie!”

“need my fingers to finish, princess?” ellie coos teasingly, dropping you down even harder, your pussy bumping onto the bulge of her jeans that formed after slipping further down her slim waist. you couldn’t wait to get home so she could really fuck you. bring out that special toy she liked to call her dick.

the cries are almost violent, scratching at her arm with your unoccupied hand and sobbing uncontrollably, telling her everything. you really have been needy, huh? “yessss, p-pleaseeee, fuck me ellie.”

“fuck, sound so good,” ellie halts her movements, yanking your hand out of the way and laying back in her spot to pull you closer. you cough out a moan when she inserts her middle and ring finger, ellie hissing from the tightness. “awe, baby. we gotta stretch you open some more.“

“oh my god,” your eyes scroll into the back of your head while your mouth drops with a broken gasp, ellie cussing under her breath when she sees a coat of white covering her fingers, dipping them in and out of your cunt steadily.

“baby, you g’na make me eat you up, my fucking god,” ellie’s truly fascinated, sinking in and out, even curling them to get a reaction out of you. your body spasming above her. “pretty fucking cream. s’gorgeous, sweetie.”

the tightness of your walls clench and pull her deeper, ellie’s palm interacting with your clit as she slams her fingers in hard, a high pitched scream echoing from your mouth and immediately ellie slaps her palm around your mouth, jaw clenched as she whispers, “shut the fuck up, take that shit baby.”

a tear falls down your face from the overwhelming pleasure, your skin slapping amongst her palm as she fucks you to your final orgasm, her mouth gnawing at your throat bringing you to the brink after she bites down and drags out a moan along with you. your hips shake rapidly, chest heaving and riding out your high against her hand. ellie grabs your face with her wet palm to kiss you aggressively, gliding her lips with yours in a passionate, slow kiss. you feel it all over your body, pussy aching for more. ellie’s anger subsiding . . . at least after she fucked you dumb into the mattress later on that day. safe to say, never get stilettos without permission again.

#𝜗ৎ ˚⋅ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘.#ellie x reader #ellie x black reader #ellie smut #tlou #tlou smut #tlou ellie #ellie williams #ellie willams x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie willams smut #the last of us #tlou2 #ellie fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie blurb

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natsaffection · 1 month

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Walking through fire. | N.R

Natasha Romanoff x Firefighter!Reader

Warnings: Dealing with Break up

Word count: 5,7k

A/n: Hello! The request idea started because the person has been looking for a similar fic for a while. So if you know of one that is similar, please let me know! So please don't be surprised, I didn't copy it. 🫶🏼🫶🏼

You stepped out of the fire truck, adrenaline still pulsing through your veins, even as the cool evening air settled over the fire station. The last call had been intense. A warehouse fire that threatened to spread to nearby buildings. But, as always, your team had handled it professionally. A small smile tugged at your lips as you walked back to the station, the gear clinking softly with each step.

You were the only woman on your team, which had initially caused some concern among some of the older men when you joined. But you quickly proved yourself, not only as capable but as one of the best. Over time, you earned their respect, and in many ways, you became the heart of the team. They looked out for you just as you did for them, and their bond was strong, forged in the fires they fought together.

As you entered the locker room, you were greeted by the familiar banter of your colleagues, along with the smell of sweat and smoke. "Hey, are you coming?" called Jake, one of the older firefighters, as he peeled off his gear. "We’re heading to O’Malley’s tonight. Are you in?"

You hesitated for a moment. It had been a long shift, and all you wanted was to go home, shower, and spend some time with Natasha. But it had been a while since you’d gone out with the guys, and it would be good to relax with them. Besides, you could invite Natasha, it might be just what you both needed to reconnect.

"Sure!" you replied with a smile. "I’ll be there. I’ll see if Nat wants to come too." The guys exchanged knowing looks, and Jake gave you a thumbs-up. "Great! I haven’t seen her in a while. It’d be nice to catch up with her."

You nodded, but a small knot of worry twisted in your stomach. It was true..Natasha had been distant lately, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. But you pushed the thought aside, hoping that tonight would be a chance to bridge the growing gap between you.

The atmosphere at O’Malley’s was lively, the local bar filled with laughter and chatter from off-duty firefighters and locals. You arrived with your team, and the group immediately took their usual corner spot. You spotted Natasha near the bar, as stunning as ever, her sharp green eyes scanning the room. Your heart lifted at the sight of her, and you quickly made your way over to her.

"Hey, you made it." you said with a warm smile, leaning in to kiss Natasha on the cheek. Natasha smiled back, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Of course. You know I wouldn’t miss a chance to see you and your boys letting loose." You chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around Natasha’s waist and leading her back to the table. As you joined the group, the conversation flowed easily, with stories from the day and jokes making the rounds. But you couldn’t help but notice that Natasha was quieter than usual, her responses brief, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

It wasn’t long before Jake, ever observant, leaned over to you. "Hey, is everything okay between you two?" he asked quietly, his tone gentle but concerned. You sighed, glancing over at Natasha, who was now holding a drink and barely participating in the conversations. "I don’t know.. " you admitted softly. "She’s been..distant lately. I just can’t figure out why."

Jake nodded, his brow furrowed. "You know we all care about you, right? If something’s wrong, don’t just ignore it."

"I know." you replied with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks. I’ll talk to her." But as the evening wore on, your worries deepened. You watched as Natasha grew more withdrawn, her attention drifting further away from the group. Your heart sank as you saw Natasha get up and head to the bar to talk to another woman, a striking woman with a confident smile. A knot formed in your stomach as you watched the interaction from a distance.

Natasha laughed, leaning in closer to the woman, and you couldn’t miss the unmistakable signs of flirting. Your mind raced, trying to rationalize it, convincing yourself that you were overreacting. But the way Natasha touched the woman’s arm, the way she looked at her, was something you couldn’t ignore. Jake’s words echoed in your mind Don’t just ignore it.

Your hands clenched into fists, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and hurt. You couldn’t stay here any longer, couldn’t watch this unfold before your eyes. You stood up abruptly, the movement catching Natasha’s attention. Your eyes met across the room, and for a brief moment, you saw something in Natasha’s gaze, maybe guilt or simply the realization that she’d been caught.

You didn’t wait for Natasha to come to you. You turned and left the bar, the cool night air hitting you like a slap as you stepped outside. The anger that simmered within you was like a raging fire, threatening to consume you. You barely registered the short drive home, your mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Back in your apartment, you paced the living room, your thoughts racing. The minutes dragged on like hours until you finally heard the door behind you open and close. You turned to see Natasha standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable. "I-" Natasha began, but you cut her off.

"Don’t." you interrupted, your voice trembling with the effort to control the storm within you. "Just don’t! I saw you, Natasha. I saw how you were with her." Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It’s not what you think-"

"Then what is it?" you demanded, your voice rising. "Because from where I stood, it looked like you were flirting with someone else. And this isn’t the first time you’ve been like this, Nat. You’ve been cold, distant, like you don’t even want to be around me anymore.. And now… this?"

"I don’t know what you want me to say!" Natasha replied, her voice growing colder. "You’re always at work, always with your team. Maybe I needed someone to talk to, someone who’s actually there.." You stared at her, her words cutting deep. "Are you serious? I risk my life every day, and you think I’m neglecting you? You knew what my job was when we got together, Natasha. You knew how important it is to me."

"And what about us?" Natasha shot back, her voice rising as well. "What about our relationship? Or is that supposed to come second to everything else?" Your eyes flashed with anger. "I’ve tried, Nat! I’ve tried to be there for you, but you’re the one who pushed me away. You’re the one who shut me out!" Natasha took a step forward, her fists clenched. "Maybe I pushed you away because I felt like you weren’t really there anymore! Maybe I shut you out because I don’t know how to compete with your damn job!"

The room was filled with your heavy breathing, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. You felt your heart breaking with each passing moment, the reality of what Natasha was saying beginning to sink in. "I never asked you to compete with my job.." you said, your voice trembling. "I just wanted you to be there for me, like I was always there for you." Natasha’s expression softened for a moment, but then it hardened again, her walls going back up. "Maybe we’ve just grown too far apart, Y/n. Maybe this just doesn’t work anymore." You felt like the ground had been pulled out from under you. "Do you really mean that?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t know what else to say..I can't anymore.." Natasha replied, her tone flat. "I’m tired, Y/n. I’m tired of feeling like I’m always second place in your life." The finality in Natasha’s words hit you like a sledgehammer, and you knew deep down that this was the end. The fight drained out of you, leaving only a hollow emptiness that you couldn’t ignore. "Maybe you’re right." you said quietly, your voice breaking. "Maybe we’ve just grown too different."

Natasha looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable in her eyes, before she finally turned and left, leaving you in the ruins of what had once been your shared life. The door closed with a final, echoing click, and you sank onto the couch, the weight of the night crashing over you. The tears you had been holding back finally broke free, and you cried until there was nothing left, the pain of losing Natasha burning brighter than any fire you had ever faced.

Weeks passed since that night, the night when everything had fallen apart. You had thrown yourself into your work, using the long hours and hard shifts to numb the pain that had settled in your chest. The fire station became more than just a workplace, it became your refuge, a place where you could lose yourself in the routine, the adrenaline, and the camaraderie of your team.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fully escape the pain that Natasha’s absence had left behind. The quiet moments when you were alone with your thoughts were the worst. Those were the times when the memories came back. Memories of Natasha’s smile, her laughter, the way she would snuggle up to you after a long day. All of it haunted you, lingering like smoke long after the fire had died.

Your teammates noticed the change in you almost immediately. They were used to you being the strong, confident woman who could take on any challenge, who always had a quick joke or a comforting word at the ready. But lately, you had become quieter, more withdrawn. The usual spark in your eyes had dimmed, replaced by a pained expression that worried them more than you realized.

It didn’t take long for the whispers to start. The guys knew something was wrong, but out of respect, they didn’t push you to talk about it..at least not at first. But one day, after another exhausting shift, Jake, who always seemed to sense when something was off, finally confronted you in the locker room. "Hey, can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm as you laced up your boots. You looked up, exhaustion evident in every line of your face. "Sure, What’s up?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure how to begin, before finally coming out with it. "The guys and I..we’ve noticed you’ve changed lately. You’re quieter. We’re worried about you." Your first instinct was to brush it off, to tell him you were fine, but the concern in Jake’s eyes stopped you. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I..I’m okay, Jake. I’m just going through some stuff."

Jake nodded, as if he had expected that answer. "We heard that you and Natasha broke up." You flinched at the mention of her name, the wound still fresh despite the weeks that had passed. "Yeah.."

"I’m sorry," Jake said sincerely. "but you don’t have to go through this alone, you know? We’re here for you, you know that, right?" A lump formed in your throat, the kindness in Jake’s words breaking through the wall you had built around yourself. "Thanks, Jake. It’s just..it’s hard, you know? But I’ll get through it, I just need time."

Jake smiled, a small, sad smile. "We know you’re strong. But even the strongest people need their friends sometimes. Don’t shut us out, okay?" You nodded, your heart warming at his words. "Okay. I won’t."

As the days turned into weeks, you slowly began to lean more on your team, letting them in bit by bit. They were there for you in ways you hadn’t expected, they invited you out after shifts, brought you coffee when they saw you needed it, and most importantly, gave you the space you needed to heal without pushing you to talk about it before you were ready. You started to find yourself again, piece by piece. The pain of the breakup was still there, but it no longer dominated every thought. You found comfort in the work you loved and in the support of your team, who were more like brothers to you than anything else. They helped you remember who you were, a determined woman who had overcome so much in her life. This was just another challenge, another fire you had to walk through, and you knew you would come out stronger on the other side.

But there was another change in you. The breakup had forced you to take a hard look at your life, the choices you had made, and the priorities you had set. You realized that you had been using work as a way to escape from certain things like fears, insecurities, the pressure to always be the best. With the help of your teammates, you started to find a better balance. You cut back on your work hours, took time to rest, to connect with yourself, and to think about what you really wanted in life. It wasn’t easy, there were still days when the pain was too much, when the memories were too sharp but slowly, you began to feel more like yourself again.

One evening, after a particularly long but fulfilling day, you were sitting with your team at O’Malley’s, the same bar where everything had started to fall apart weeks ago. But this time, the atmosphere was different. You laughed at one of Jake’s jokes, the sound surprising even yourself. It felt good to laugh again, to feel like you were part of something again, instead of just going through the motions. As the night wore on, Jake leaned over and clinked his glass against yours. "Welcome back.." he said with a broad grin. You smiled back, this time a real smile, one that reached your eyes. And as you looked around, taking in the faces of the people who had stood by you through one of the hardest times of your life, you felt a deep gratitude and a sense of hope. You weren’t fully healed yet, you knew that would take time but you were on your way. You weren’t running from the pain anymore. You were facing it, with the support of those who cared about you. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were finally coming back to yourself.

The months that had passed since the breakup had brought with them a sense of calm that you hadn’t expected. The wounds that had once been raw and painful had slowly closed, leaving only the faintest of scars behind. You had regained your footing, largely thanks to your work and the unwavering support of your team. The fire station had become your sanctuary, a place where you could focus on the work you loved and the people who mattered to you.

With time, the thoughts of Natasha became less painful and more reflective. You had accepted that your relationship was over, and although you still cared for Natasha, you had made peace with your past. You hadn’t dated anyone new, instead choosing to focus on yourself and your career. Occasionally, you wondered if Natasha had moved on, if she had found someone to fill the void you had left behind. But those thoughts were fleeting, quickly pushed aside by the demands of your work.

One late afternoon, your team received an urgent call, a fire had broken out in a high-end residential complex in a busy part of town. Without hesitation, you geared up and raced to the scene, sirens blaring through the streets. When you arrived at the complex, your focus was solely on the task ahead.

The building was engulfed in flames, thick black smoke billowing from the windows of the upper floors. The fire was intense, but not unlike others you had faced before. Your team worked with practiced precision, setting up hoses and preparing to combat the blaze. You quickly joined them, your thoughts focused only on containing the fire and ensuring everyone’s safety. As you worked to bring the fire under control, you noticed a small commotion at the edge of the crowd that had gathered outside. A woman was arguing with one of the firefighters, her voice rising in desperation. You blinked through the smoke and your heart sank. It was Natasha.

Natasha stood at the edge of the barricade, her face pale and tense, her eyes fixed on the burning building. She was arguing with one of the firefighters, apparently determined to get inside. "I have to go in!" Natasha said, her voice thick with panic. "There are things in there that I can’t lose, please.."

"I’m sorry, ma’am, but it’s too dangerous." the firefighter replied, his voice firm but sympathetic. "We can’t let anyone in until we’re sure the fire is completely out and the building is safe." Natasha looked like she was about to argue further, her frustration and fear palpable. You knew that look all too well..Natasha was stubborn, and when she set her mind to something, she didn’t let go easily. Taking a deep breath, knowing this wouldn’t be easy, you stepped forward and made your way over to them.

"Natasha." you called, drawing both Natasha’s and the firefighter’s attention to you. Natasha’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she looked like she might crumble. But she quickly composed herself, her expression shifting to one of determination. "Y-Y/n! I have to go in.. There are things..things I can’t lose."

You understood the urgency in Natasha’s voice, but you also knew the dangers that still lurked in the building. You turned to the firefighter, who was visibly struggling to keep Natasha from pushing past him. "It’s okay." you said, stepping forward. "I’ll go in with her. I know the risks, and I can make sure she stays safe." The firefighter hesitated, glancing between you and Natasha before finally nodding. "Alright, but be quick. The structure is still unstable, and we don’t know how long it will hold."

You nodded in understanding before turning to Natasha. "Come on." you said, your voice gentle but firm. "Let’s get what you need." Natasha nodded, her relief evident, though her tension remained, as she followed you toward the building. You moved quickly through the entrance, the smell of smoke and charred wood heavy in the air. The fire was mostly out, but the damage was extensive, and the walls still radiated heat.

You led the way, keeping an eye on Natasha as you navigated through the debris. "Where do we need to go?" you asked, glancing back over your shoulder. "Upstairs.." Natasha replied, her voice tight. "My apartment is on the top floor." You moved carefully, avoiding the more unstable areas as you climbed the stairs to Natasha’s apartment. When you reached the door, it hung on its hinges, the hallway beyond filled with smoke and debris. You pushed the door open, and before you lay the charred remains of what had once been Natasha’s home.

Natasha stepped inside, her movements hesitant as she took in the destruction. You stayed close, your eyes scanning the room for potential hazards. The apartment was almost unrecognizable, blackened walls, burned furniture, and shattered glass littered the floor. But Natasha’s attention was focused on something deeper, something more personal. She moved to a small cabinet at the back of the room, kneeling down and carefully opening it. Inside were a few items that had somehow escaped the fire. An old jewelry box, a small stack of letters, and a photo album that was singed at the edges but otherwise intact.

Natasha carefully lifted the photo album, her hands trembling slightly as she opened it. The first picture showed you and her, taken on a lazy Sunday morning in your old apartment. You were sitting on the couch, your head resting on Natasha’s shoulder, both of you smiling at the camera. It was one of Natasha’s favorite photos, a moment of pure bliss, captured forever.

You held your breath as you saw the picture. "You kept this?" you asked softly, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and emotion. Natasha looked up at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I couldn’t let it go.." she admitted, her voice breaking. "I tried to move on, but..this was the only thing that made me feel close to you. I never stopped missing you, Y/n. I just didn’t know how to handle it.."

The flames had died down, and the once-raging inferno that had consumed Natasha’s apartment was now reduced to smoldering embers. You stood with Natasha near the entrance of the building, the smell of smoke still heavy in the air. Natasha’s face was etched with worry, her eyes distant as she stared at the charred remains of her home. Back outside, Natasha turned to you, clutching the singed photo album to her chest. "Y/n.." she began, her voice shaky but determined, "I..I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for a second chance. I miss you. I miss us."

Your heart clenched at the plea in Natasha’s voice, but you knew you couldn’t just let yourself be swayed so easily. The pain, the anger, the heartbreak..it was all still there, simmering beneath the surface. You couldn’t just forget how it had ended, how Natasha had pushed you away. You took a deep breath, keeping your voice steady. "Natasha, I..I can’t do this right now. I’ve moved on, or at least I’m trying to. It’s not easy for me to just go back."

Natasha’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded, her fingers tightening around the photo album. "I understand.." she whispered. "I know I hurt you, Y/n, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But I just wanted…I wanted to try to make things right."

You looked away, your resolve wavering for a moment before you forced yourself to stay strong. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" you asked, your tone softening slightly. Natasha hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, I’m staying with Steve. I’ll be okay."

"Good.." you replied, your voice a bit softer now. "Take care of yourself, Natasha. I’m..I’m sorry this happened to you." Natasha offered you a sad smile, her eyes a mixture of hope and resignation. "Thank you.." You nodded, your heart heavy as you watched Natasha walk away, disappearing into the darkness. You wanted to reach out, to take away the pain you had seen in Natasha’s eyes, but you knew that would only reopen wounds that had just begun to heal.

Days passed, and you tried to put the encounter with Natasha behind you. You buried yourself in your work, focusing on your team and the job that had always been your anchor. But no matter how hard you tried, thoughts of Natasha kept creeping into your mind. You wondered how she was doing, if she had found a new place to live, if she was okay. But every time the urge to reach out to Natasha became too strong, you forced yourself to remember the pain of your breakup. The loneliness and the feeling of being pushed aside. You weren’t ready to go through that again.

Meanwhile, Natasha wasn’t ready to give up so easily. She knew she had deeply hurt you, but she also knew that you were the best thing that had ever happened to her. She had to find a way to apologize, to show you that she was serious about making things right. But every time she tried to get close, you kept her at a distance, not ready to let her back into your life.

Desperate for a solution, Natasha turned to the one person she knew you trusted completely. Jake. He was your closest friend on the team, someone who had always been there for you through thick and thin. If anyone could help Natasha find a way to reach you, it was him. "Jake, I need your help." Natasha said one evening after tracking him down at the firehouse. She had waited until you were out on a call, not wanting to make the situation even more difficult for you.

Jake studied Natasha carefully, crossing his arms. "What’s this about, Romanoff?" Natasha hesitated, unsure how to explain. "I want to apologize to Y/n. I want to show her that I’m serious about making things right, but she’s not giving me a chance. And I get it, I really do! I hurt her, and I don’t blame her for keeping her distance. But I can’t just let her go without trying."

Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered her words. "Shes been through a lot." he said finally. "She’s tough, but she’s got a big heart, and what happened between you two…it really hit her hard. She’s just starting to get back to herself."

"I know.." Natasha replied, her voice heavy with emotion. "And that’s exactly why I’m asking for your help. I need to show her that I’ve changed, that I understand what I did wrong. I thought maybe..maybe you could help me find something that really matters.."

Jake studied her for a long moment, clearly weighing what he should do. He had seen how much the breakup had affected you, had been there to pick up the pieces. But he also knew that you still cared about Natasha, even if you wouldn’t admit it. "Alright.." Jake said finally. "But if we do this, it has to be something that really shows her you get it, that you understand what’s important to her. You can’t just say ‘I’m sorry’ you’ve got to prove that you get it." Natasha nodded, her heart lifting with a mix of hope and determination. "What do you suggest?"

Jake thought for a moment, then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Y/n’s job and her team mean everything to her. She’s proud of the work we do, and she respects anyone who gets that. If you can show her that you appreciate her dedication, that you’re willing to support her even if it means making sacrifices, that might just reach her heart."

Natasha listened intently, and a plan began to take shape in her mind. "I think I know what I can do." she said slowly, her confidence growing. "But I’m going to need everyones help to pull it off." Jake chuckled softly, clapping Natasha on the shoulder. "Alright, Romanoff. Let’s get to it. But remember, in the end, it’s up to Y/n. If she decides she’s not ready, you’ve got to respect that."

"I will." Natasha promised, her eyes filled with determination. "But I have to try."

In the days that followed, Natasha and the Team worked together to bring the plan to life. It wasn’t easy, and there were moments when Natasha doubted herself, but she pushed through, knowing this was her last chance to make things right with you.

Finally, the day came. Jake had convinced you to come to the firehouse after your shift, under the pretense of a small team meeting. You arrived, your curiosity piqued by the unusual request. As you entered the common room, you were greeted by your teammates, all smiling, but there was also a hint of something else in their expressions..perhaps anticipation?

"Jake, what’s going on?" you asked, glancing around the room. Before he could respond, the door to the adjacent room opened, and Natasha stepped out, nervous but resolute. You held your breath as your eyes met, the air suddenly thick with tension. "Natasha.." you said slowly, your voice cautious. "What are you doing here?"

"I’m here to apologize." Natasha said, her voice firm despite the pounding of her heart. "But I’m not just here to say ‘sorry.’ I wanted to show you that I understand..really understand what’s important to you. Your job, your team..I know how much they mean to you, and I want you to know that I respect that. I want to support you, Y/n, in everything you do."

You frowned slightly, unsure where this was going. "What do you mean?" Natasha took a deep breath, then turned to Jake, who nodded and stepped forward, giving something in your hands. It was a framed certificate, one that you immediately recognized. It was an award given to firefighters who had performed exceptionally in their service, an award that you yourself had won years ago. But this wasn’t your award. This was a new one, freshly printed, with Natasha’s name on it.

Your eyes widened as you read the inscription. It was an honorary award, given to someone who had shown extraordinary understanding and support for the firefighting community. It wasn't just a symbol, it was something that had to be earned.

"I talked to Jake.." Natasha explained, her voice gentle but steady. "And with the rest of the team. I wanted to understand what you do, what you go through every day. I spent the last few weeks learning about your work, the risks you take, and the sacrifices you make. I even went through part of the training to get a real sense of what it’s like. This award..it’s not just a piece of paper. It’s my way of showing you that I’m ready to be there for you, in the way you need."

You stared at the certificate, your emotions swirling. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the gesture. It was clear that Natasha had gone to great lengths to understand your world, to step into your shoes and appreciate the life you were dedicated to. The weight of Natasha’s efforts, the sincerity in her eyes, all of it hit you deeply.

Natasha continued, her voice growing more emotional as she spoke. "Y/n, I know I messed up. I let my insecurities and fears get in the way, and I pushed you away when I should have held on. But I’m here now, ready to support you in everything you do, no matter what it takes. I’m not asking for everything to go back to the way it was. I know that’s not possible. I just want a chance to be a part of your life again, to do it right this time."

You felt your heart being pulled in multiple directions. On one hand, the pain of your breakup was still fresh, the wounds not fully healed. But on the other hand, Natasha’s gesture was so heartfelt, so genuine, that it was impossible to ignore. You glanced around the room, seeing your team, your family looking at you with hopeful eyes. They had been your support through the hardest times, and now, in this moment, they were silently encouraging you to consider Natasha’s plea.

You turned back to Natasha, who was waiting with bated breath for your response, her vulnerability on full display, but her determination unwavering. It was clear that this wasn’t just an apology, no it was a promise. A promise to be better, to be the partner you had always needed.

You took a deep breath, your emotions swirling as you searched for the right words. "Natasha..What you’ve done means a lot to me. More than I can put into words. But this isn’t something I can decide on the spot. I need time..time to think about everything, to process it all." Natasha nodded immediately, her eyes shining with understanding and relief. "Of course! Take all the time you need. I’ll wait, as long as it takes."

You appreciated Natasha’s willingness to give you space. You could see the sincerity in her eyes, and it softened something inside you. "Thank you, Natasha." you said quietly. "I need to do what’s right for me…and for us, whatever that may be."

The room was thick with emotion as you turned to Jake, who gave you a small, encouraging smile. "You don’t have to decide anything today, you know." he said gently. "Just know that we’re here for you, no matter what you choose." You nodded, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders. You knew you needed to take things slowly, to figure out what was best for your heart and your future. But for the first time in a long while, you felt a spark of hope..the possibility that maybe, just maybe, you and Natasha could find a way back to each other.

Natasha took a step forward and looked to the certificate and back to you. "This is yours." she said softly. "It’s not just about me, it’s about you and everything you stand for. And no matter what happens between us, I will always respect that."

You felt a warmth in that sentence, a reminder of what you had once shared. But you didn’t allow yourself to get lost in the past. You knew you had to be careful, to protect yourself from further pain. "Thank you," you said, your voice firm. "I’ll keep this, and I’ll think about everything you’ve said."

Natasha smiled, a gentle, hopeful smile that made your heart skip a beat. With that, you turned and left the room, the certificate clutched in your hand. Your team watched you, giving you the space you needed to process everything. Natasha remained behind, her heart heavy yet lighter, heavy with the knowledge that she still had a long way to go to regain your trust, but lighter with the hope that you might, just might, find your way back to each other.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, you felt a mixture of relief, confusion, and a small spark of hope. You weren’t ready to fully open the door to Natasha again, but you weren’t ready to close it completely either. The road ahead was long, full of uncertainties and difficult choices, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were moving in the right direction. And as you looked down at the certificate in your hand, you knew that whatever happened next, you would face it with the same strength and determination that had carried you through everything else.

(Hi! I tried something new and I'll leave the ending up to you. You can decide how it ends for both of you. :))

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 6 days

Text

I Knew You in Another Life, You had that Same Look in Your Eyes

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Throughout the flagship series

Warnings: Self harm; Allusions to Abuse; Poorly written smut (kinda); Allusions to canonical character death

Summary: It all started with a smile.

A/N: I have been having trouble finding time to write recently. When I do have time, I’m either too tired or just don’t have the desire. I know it’s not what people are waiting for, but here’s some fluff. Rambling, really. Anyway, here it is. I love you all and I'll update Blood Ties and other things as soon as I can.

It was his smile.

From the moment he smiled at you for the first time, you knew you were his. Daryl didn’t just smile at anyone. No, he had a look he gave that was a near grimace to signal he was content or appreciative, and folks were lucky to get that. There was a time you could be counted among those fortunate few.

At the quarry, you barged into his space, intent on arguing with him, but your foot got caught in the strap of his bag and you tumbled into his tent face first, muttering every colorful word in the English language. You had one hundred percent expected him to harshly admonish you for your uninvited entrance, but he didn’t. Nor did he laugh. When you looked up at him—your face red, hair askew—you found him smiling. A smile that was inches from a chuckle that had been held at bay, but still—a smile.

You felt like even more of a fool then, for falling on your face. And for the way the fluttering of butterflies in your tummy could be seen stark naked in your expression. You had entirely forgotten what you had initially come to say to him.

From that moment, Daryl Dixon held your heart.

It was your smile.

Daryl had never been a man who put much stock in love. It was a silly, pointless notion that only allowed the heart to open long enough to be crushed more easily. He had never even really found himself attracted to anyone, much less interested in them enough to entertain the idea of loving them—or the idea of them loving him.

Then you came along. From the moment you stepped out of that truck that was meant to bring back his brother, he knew he was a goner. He tried to fight it, told himself that he was being an idiot, that Merle would call him a pussy and damnit, the man would be right.

It didn’t take long for you to wiggle your way past his defenses. Though he had been watching you warily, keeping his distance when he could, he could have never predicted the moment you would render him undone. You were doing your laundry alone by the fencing toward the edges of the Greene farm. He had truthfully wandered into your space to scold you about being there alone. But a single wasp had a different idea.

It landed on your hand just as you reached toward the water, garment in your soft grip. He opened his mouth to speak, flinching when you screeched and threw the clothing. Your panties hit him square in the face and, like a fool, he lifted a hand and caught them as they fell. Words fled, embarrassment raged. His mouth moved like a gaping fish but then you were smiling. You didn’t laugh at him, didn’t make fun. You apologized and approached, gently extricating the fabric from his hand, your smile steadfast.

And from that moment, he was fucked.

You were watching Daryl discuss a particularly dangerous run with Rick. He was standing by the gate, hands on his hips while you were perched at one of the picnic style tables with Carol at your side, a basket of laundry and a tub of water at your feet.

You were hardly paying attention to what you were supposed to be doing, continually stealing glances.

And then he caught you.

Your hands froze on a pair of jeans, the fabric dripping into the tub, your eyes widening. You were unable to look away. Whether he was in the same predicament or was just simply challenging you was unclear.

Until he smiled.

You damn near melted and he knew it. There was a heat that started in your cheeks, spreading down your neck to your chest and all the up to the tips of your ears. You swore you could feel it on your scalp.

When he finally chose to stop making your pulse race, switching his gaze back to the map in Rick’s grasp, you exhaled, wondering if you had breathed at all. There was a chuckle beside you, Carol’s head turned away while her shoulders bounced. You muttered a quick shut up and nudged her with your elbow, aggressively scrubbing at the jeans.

Shaking her head, Carol also returned to the task at hand. “Oh, sweetie. You’ve got it bad for that man.”

You couldn’t disagree.

His eyes flitted up to your approaching form, and he quickly wiped the remaining ashes from the top of his hand. Clearing his throat and wiping his eyes with his forearm, he fixed you with a weak glare.

“Cut it out. I already know.” You slid down the side of the trunk, shoulder to shoulder with him, presenting an open palm. “Let me see.”

Daryl felt his chest tighten. You had seen the scars given to him when he was a boy, but those weren’t self inflicted. He had added to the collection on his own—a few times more than he cared to admit. But he knew you. Caring yet determined. You wouldn’t relent until you got what you wanted. Heaving a sigh, he reluctantly placed his hand where you beckoned for it.

“Ain’t nothin’.”

“Don’t do that.” You answered without a single ounce of hesitation. “Don’t act like your pain doesn’t matter.”

“It don’t.” He rasped, feeling the sting threatening his waterline. “Not when ev’ryone else is sufferin’ too.” When he tried to retract his hand, your fingers wrapped around his wrist and tugged it back, a hell bent expression on your pretty features.

“That’s bullshit, Daryl.” You held his gaze for longer than he was entirely comfortable with given your proximity. Grunting, he turned his head but let you hold onto his hand. “This’ll likely scar.” You finally said so sadly that he couldn’t help but look at you again.

“Ain’t like I ain’t got a few already.” He couldn’t seem to look away. Daryl had admitted to himself long ago that he was stuck on you. He didn’t love easily, didn’t know how, but for you, he was willing to learn. And the way you were looking at him in that moment was giving him that fluttering sensation in his chest that he had grown accustomed to when you were close.

Your eyes flickered down to his mouth and promptly back up. He was filled with such a foreign hope, wishing that he could feel the softness of your lips, even if only once. You cleared your throat. “I know this is hardly appropriate, but I really wanna kiss you right now.”

He blinked. There was no way he heard you correctly. “What?” He said after a moment that lasted altogether too long, his eyes squinted. He could have slapped himself. Wasn’t he just thinking of how badly he wanted to do the same thing? Maybe he could fix it before you changed your mind, say something to encourage you to continue. “Well? G’on then.” Daryl inwardly sighed. He would have been better off keeping his trap shut.

But then your soft palm was on his cheek, your plump lips pressing against his. His eyes shot wide while yours fluttered closed, his fingers closing around the hand that still held his. It was so simple to ignore the burn of his self inflicted injury. He allowed himself to melt into your ministrations, his blue orbs mimicked yours, mouth following your lead. It was uncomplicated but exhilarating. When he pulled back, your thumb stroking beneath his eye, your lips remained puckered, eyes still closed.

When the bright pool of your gaze finally reappeared, your mouth opened to reveal all your teeth in a gleaming smile. “Wow.”

But Daryl didn’t hear you, mesmerized by your expression. That smile was always his undoing.

And he found he didn’t mind in the slightest being repeatedly unraveled.

Alexandria was never going to be safe. You both knew it. Still, it was the safest you had been since the prison, especially with your group now behind its seemingly infallible walls. Jobs assigned, routines established, and residences assigned, maybe it could be home if nothing else.

You and Daryl had requested one of the smaller houses, all to yourselves. Everyone knew you were close, but they were all ignorant to that moment in the woods, how you had thrown caution to the wind and had been so pleasantly rewarded. There were no other kisses since then, things too busy, too new to let your guard down so quickly. Everyone was at a gathering that night, knowing full well that Daryl would never attend. They might come looking for you, though.

You wouldn’t be answering the door.

Daryl’s lips were blazing a wet trail down your neck, across your collarbone. One large hand held yours next to your head while the other gripped your waist. You arched up into him, encouraging both his mouth and the rolling of his hips, the gentle push and pull that was grazing him across your most sensitive walls. This dance had been slow, in both anticipation and execution, a gradual joining that you could savor in tandems of breathy moans and featherlight kisses. There was no reason to rush. No reason at all.

After you had both ascended to the pinnacle of ecstasy and drifted back down, you lay with his head on your chest, your fingers whispering up and down the length of his spine. He was so relaxed, breaths deep and even, that you thought he might have drifted off.

“What are we?” His voice was raspy, quiet, but not panicked. He wasn’t tripping over any thought of emotion he might convey. That said a lot for Daryl Dixon. Still, you were taken by surprise.

“What do you want us to be?” You brushed the hair away from his forehead before your fingertips explored his jaw. He snorted, though it was weak.

“Just made that obvious, didn’t I?”

He did. You hadn’t thought about it so deeply until then. Daryl wasn’t the type of man to strip himself bare, both literally and figuratively, for just anyone. He would never let just any woman touch his scars so intimately and not flinch. Angling your neck, you pressed a kiss into his hairline.

“I’m yours, Daryl.”

When he lifted his head, shifting onto his elbow beside you, his free hand was already brushing away your sweat-damp hair. Watching you with a gaze so deep, seemingly bottomless, the corner of his mouth raised tentatively, one side and then the other. A smile so soft, so genuine, that your heart nearly swelled too large to beat adequately behind your ribs.

Clearing his throat, he ducked his head, the smallest flash of teeth before that upward curve of his lips disappeared. “Ya mean that?”

“With all my heart.”

They only made it a couple of miles before Daryl was forced to let Jesus take the wheel, so to speak. The Hilltop runner was managing the bike well enough while the archer simply tried to stay awake, the constant abuse his body and mind had suffered finally able to culminate to the surface when he was free of the Sanctuary. Everything ached, inside and out. He was exhausted, ready to go home.

Ready to see you.

Had you been spared Negan’s wrath? Had the tyrant discovered your ties to Daryl and used them against you? Made you pay for them? Were you safe? Were you even alive?

“You can’t go back to Alexandria.” Jesus called over his shoulder. Daryl shifted uncomfortably with a grunt. He was never one to ride on the back of the bike.

Unless it was with you.

“They’ll be looking for you there.” The bike slowed to a stop, Jesus calling out to someone. It was then Daryl saw Hilltop’s walls, his stomach twisting with an anxiety just below the surface.

“Need to go back.” He rasped, nearly coughing from the scrape against his vocal chords. His voice clearly suffered from the lack of use. “Need to see—”

The gates opened to reveal Maggie and Sasha. Just behind them—was you. He should fall onto his knees in front of Maggie, beg her forgiveness.

But forgiveness would have to wait.

He didn’t even wait for Jesus to dismount, uncharacteristically clambering off the back and into an unsteady beeline straight for you. You were already running toward him. Your voice was crying out his name in disbelief, in hopeful relief. It was mere seconds before you reached him, just enough time for his tired legs to buckle. You willingly went down with him, both sets of knees hitting the dirt as you clung to him.

“You’re alive. Thank god, you’re alive.”

He could feel the fine tremors vibrating your form, the jerks of your shoulders as you sobbed. You should never cry. Negan would pay for making you cry. “Yeah, m’here, Sunshine.” Daryl returned your embrace with as much strength as he could muster, given his poor condition, and held on until you pulled back, your tearful gaze roaming over his person, pausing on every bruise, every laceration.

“What did they do to you?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head. “Didn’t break.” He backed the words with a confidence he found buried deep within, surprised he had any left after his ordeal with the Saviors. “Didn’t let ‘em break me.”

You smiled then, through your tears, and began brushing his dirty hair away from his face. “Not even a question, Bowstrings.” He didn’t hear you. He was too focused on that smile—the smile that brought him such a feeling of peace, of love. He let you guide him upright, staggered along behind you, your hand in his. Every few seconds, you looked over your shoulder, still smiling.

Everything would be okay.

You watched him from across the way while sitting on the porch of your home in the Commonwealth. Daryl had taken a vital role in the community after Pamela had been removed from power. Everyone had fallen into some role, but Daryl was important. He had a hand in everything.

Carol had taken Lance’s role, organizing trade and alliances and just simply keeping the community running from behind the scenes. While Daryl refused a seat on the council, his voice was in every ear, his opinion weighing on every heart when decisions were made.

With Mercer stepping down as head of the guard, Daryl assisted in the training of new recruits. The process of selecting the guards was much different than it had been before, thanks in large part to the man you now called your husband.

Watching him now—lifting RJ onto his shoulders, holding him steady with a hand on the boy’s leg while his other arm encircled Judith’s shoulders—you were whole. You were happy.

He noticed you staring—of course he did—and he smiled, lifting his chin in a nod while he and the children walked toward home.

Home.

That’s where you were. It’s what you felt. It was in Daryl all along. In his eyes, in his arms, in his smile.

Daryl was home.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon smut #Spotify

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ectospacecadet · 29 days

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Sam's toxic relationship with Danny.

Alright, so, in Double Cross My Heart we all know Sam gets a new crush and Danny becomes jealous. But, after watching this episode for the umpteenth time, I really don't think he was jealous, he was just being overprotective as always (13).

Moving on, there was something about Gregor I noticed from the get-go and why I think Sam just fell for him on-sight, anyone want to take a guess?

Well, let's see, he's tan, wearing black and white, has white hair, and green eyes (he takes his sunglasses off at the end of the episode). Any of these attributes sound, I dunno, familiar?

Do I think this was intentional? Yes, but not from his end, he had no idea Sam has a crush on Phantom, and yes I mean Phantom. Why?

This is when Sam's crush on Danny actually started, this moment here. No not earlier in the episode when they're holding hands, she and Danny do blush but it's because they're in an awkward situation, not because 'oh no I'm touching my crush's hands'. Sam doesn't show any actual interest in Danny in any episode prior to this, sure she and Danny are dancing together at the freshman dance (parental bonding) but there's no romance underlying the scene, it's just two friends dancing platonically, Danny even says he wish he took her just because she wanted to go.

Do I think Sam even knows she has a crush on Phantom and not Danny? No, she's 14, she wouldn't understand that. Why do I think that? Well it's just the way she treats Danny as Danny and not as Phantom, when Danny does regular teenage boy stuff she gets all angry and annoyed by him and Tucker, but when it comes to the ghost stuff she's not as bad about it. I get she's trying to get him to be more mature etc, but he's 14 xD let him be 14.

Then there's Memory Blank, remember how she just straight up gets called out for her causing issues with Danny and just not apologising for any of it? She apologises for the fight, not for what she's done, and Danny just rolls over. It's insane. "Welcome to my world, remember? We should make the menu recyclo-vegetarian! We should let the gorilla out! We should sell all of your dad’s stuff at a garage sale!" "Anything else you want to blame me for? The ice age? Puberty?" "Sam, both monsters knew your name. Either there’s another Sam involved in ghost fighting-- or it’s you." "How about a “thank you”, huh?"

She never actually apologises for any of that tbh, even in this episode she had a go at Danny for beating up the possessed cow balloon and not for haunting the Truck Dealership place. Y'know, he does mature superhero things and she's like "yeah but my agenda", Sam has a tendency to only be mad at Danny for abusing his ghost powers if it doesn't give her perks.

Killer Garage Sale: Danny gains popularity, Sam is ugh. Splitting Images (the NEXT episode): Danny (who's possessed and Tucker even states Danny's acting weird) gains popularity, Sam ignores Tucker's observation and jumps on Danny's popularity to save the frogs.

I feel like the two finally getting together was only because of Elmer's initial plan, but in-universe they only got together because every other character insisted on it. Sam only has the Class Ring because Valerie dumped him and the only reason it has her name in it is because of Jack, Danny never actually gave it to her.

Alright, gonna jump all the way to Frightmare now because I think, even subconsciously, Danny just doesn't have any real feelings for Sam. Why?

Because this happens. In order to wake up from Frightmare's dream helmet things, you need to have a shock in their dream, or basically a nightmare. So Danny's dream was basically perfect up until Danny was confronted with what he thinks is what he wants, yet he wakes up in distress over it. Then there's Sam's dream, which is identical, but Sam wouldn't have woken up from the kiss, it took this to snap her out of it.

Which feels... Kind of telling to me. Sam's perfect dream was happening and she would have remained asleep, but Danny's exact same dream was happening and he woke up. Our subconciouses are basically our thoughts and feelings in their purest form, the way how you feel about something will be very apparent in an instant.

Ok, last episode I'm gonna talk about it, ugh, Phantom Planet. I know, I know, the writing in this episode was so messed up, but the one thing it did get consistent was Sam's character in this. I'm just going to take her last line in the show, which also happens to be the last line in the show, period. "Why not? Cool statue. Personally I would have made it out of recycled materials but, you know, that's just me." Honey, your boyfriend just saved the entire planet and you're going to take the time to complain about his statue??? Like... C'mon Sam... Anyway, yeah, there's a lot more I could say about this btw, but I think I'm done here. Personally, I think if Paulina and Danny wound up together I don't think it'd be as toxic as one with Sam's currently is. "But she only loves Phantom", yeah, but also she's never mean to Danny on her own, she's only mean to him in front of her friends and to Sam to piss her off. She always singles Danny out from his 'loser friends'. Weird huh? ((Just know I'm not saying I ship Paulina with Danny, just that she's actually not as bad as people think she is to him, she's a lot less mean to him than Sam is tbh, you can probably guess who I think is the better person for Danny xD)).

So yeah, I feel like after some time Danny's relationship with Sam would dwindle and eventually end, they'd still be friends, but just that.

I'll end it there.

EDIT: I also forgot about this.

Danny spies on Sam with Gregor because he’s worried Gregor’s with the GIW and doesn’t want Sam to get hurt, Sam gets mad at him for spying on her whilst on a date.

But when both Sam and Tucker spy on him and Valerie because they’re worried Valerie might waste him as Danny Phantom (Sam also has some very blatant jealousy spikes) everything is ok???

I don’t think Danny gets upset that Sam and Gregor kiss because he’s jealous either, I think it’s because either: A) he’s realising he might be wrong, B) he’s worried that if he’s right Sam’ll be heartbroken. If he was jealous he wouldn’t have been suddenly ok with Gregor after stopping the GIW from attacking him, he even apologised to Sam for the spying, Sam and Tucker never did ouo

When Danny goes on to say there’s many reasons to want to date Sam, again, only Sam blushes here, Danny just plays it off and doesn’t blush at all. He was just being a good friend and making her feel better, not saying he would date her. He’s 14, he doesn’t know you can platonically call someone pretty.

Let’s not forget Danny’s feelings for Valerie haven’t gone anywhere yet, the episode (double cross your heart) literally starts like this.

#danny phantom #character analysis #sam manson #danny fenton

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botanyshitposts · 2 months

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My advice for getting a job in botany or horticulture is to start small, something like a nursery or an arboretum or a groundskeeping job, and make lots and lots of friends. Talk to the truck drivers and your coworkers and your bosses and the customers. If you’re in a college or university environment, make friends with the professors. Ask lots of questions, show interest and initiative. The green industry can be a bit cliquey, and the more connections you have, the sooner you hear about job opportunities. And: most laboratory jobs require at least some schooling, but community colleges have excellent programs for all ages. Good luck!

^^ This for sure. the job i had full time until I quit, i got as a student in college and stayed on when i graduated.

my general impressions are that if you want a family or high stability, commercial ag is the way to go; there's higher pay and better benefits, especially if you're in the breeding side putting stuff into spreadsheets or working in a lab etc. if you care less about that and want a stable job that doesn't pay as much but might have just as good benefits, government jobs and regulation work tends to skew in that direction. and if you want to full on follow your dreams you can do academia, but your immediate future will rely more on grants and stuff you have to continuously push for, rather than just clocking in to a 9 to 5; this means that you also are subject to other pressures like needing to produce more papers in things you might be less interested in, etc.

#not plonts

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pluvialpoet · 6 months

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bergamot

Summary: moments of quiet reflection reaffirm what you both already know to be true- he’s always going to come back, and you’re always going to be waiting with open arms

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, scarecrow's fear toxin, mentions of death and grief, slight angst, fluffy ending, loosely based off of batman: hush (2019)- but no major spoilers

Word Count: 3,930

masterlist

a/n: I know that dick has a tolerance against/is immune to scarecrow's fear toxin, but let's pretend he isn't...for the plot

Sleep is cruel in the way it continues to evade you when you crave it most. Mocking and teasing, exhaustion morphs into desperation. Even with your eyes shut dreams fail you, and nightmares taunt.

A siren wails, bellowing out into the night and echoing caution even after the initial cry has faded. Could be a police car, or an ambulance. Maybe even a fire truck. You try not to consider all of the possibilities, knowing it’ll only starve your slumber, further. With a huff, you adjust the heavy comforter, pulling it up until it bunches just under your chin.

In a few weeks, branches will be stripped of their leaves. Snow will fall, and the city will suffocate under a blanket of white. July was only yesterday, sticky and never-ending- infinite until finite. Now, January lurks around the corner- weeks away, but daunting, nevertheless.

The pillow tucked behind your back is a poor imitation of the brawn you wish feathers and fill could replicate, just as the one pressed to your chest acts as an imposter mimicking the body meant to be sleeping peacefully beside you. It’s impossible to tell feelings of loneliness apart from being alone, and deep down you know that reminiscence is merciless. Memory is wicked. But you can’t help remembering. It’s the only way you won’t forget- and even then, so much time has passed that you’ve begun to fade, and he’s begun to blur. Spiraling further and further away from reality and control, you drift towards hope, feeding each dangerous possibility until you have nothing left to give, but delusion takes and takes and takes…

Answers elude like comfort- and sleep. When, how, and why is lost upon you. He’s been gone for so long. Even so, your life has continued, evolving to accommodate the gaps he used to fill. Though, it’s about as effective as papier-mâchéing an open wound shut. Everywhere you look, everything you do, every time you shut your eyes, he finds a way to bleed into you, one way or another, and you welcome it every single time. All you really have are memories and a space in your bed which has always been his to come home to.

Outside, the wind howls. Angry and violent, the sound rattles the windowpane and you burrow deeper into the covers trying to block it out. Shadows dance across the ceiling, but none of them belong to the ghost you’ve been waiting for. Another frustrated huff fails to quell burning exhaustion, and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before checking the clock next to you. Neon green flashes, all too pleased to report that it’s well past midnight and you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. Already tomorrow, and you’re still mourning today.

Pushing the covers off, you shiver. There’s a chill in the air and little comfort to be found in the fact that the entire apartment feels cold and empty without him in it. At least it’s not just the bed. It’s the entire room, the hallway, and the kitchen, too. You reach for the light above the stove and begin to search the cupboards for a mug. If nothing else, at least a cup of tea will warm you up. Thanks to muscle memory, you act on autopilot, filling the ceramic with water and placing it in the microwave before picking a teabag and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Three monotone beeps call your attention back before it has another chance to wander away from you, and you retrieve the cup and place the teabag inside. Steeping time be damned.

You can’t wait any longer.

One leg curls under the other as you take a seat and bring the mug to your mouth. It burns the tip of your tongue, a small price to pay for your greed, and you swallow the too-hot liquid regardless of the consequences. The pain barely registers, anyway. With both palms pressed to the vessel, warmth finally finds you, and a barely contented huff passes your lips to blow the steam from the cup. It’s not always like this. It’s not supposed to be, but for so long, it has been. Never months, always weeks. You don’t know how to do this or how much longer you can put yourself through this torture when every sunrise twists the knots in your stomach tighter and tighter. How much longer until you snap?

You’re so tangled up in your suffering that you miss it the first time, until the hair on the back of your neck bristles. Did you imagine it? Silently, you wait, setting the steaming mug down to listen, and this time, you hear it. Faintly, but there. Real.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.

I’m here. I’m safe. Can I come in?

Your feet move before the rest of your body does, and the chair scrapes loudly across the hardwood as you jump from it in shock. A cocktail of excitement, worry, disbelief, and fear bubbles and swirls through you when you spot a familiar glimpse of black and blue through the window near the fire escape.

“Dick?”

Crossing the room without any memory of doing so, you fiddle with the latch that keeps you from him, and him from you, until finally it clicks. With only one foot through the window, you reach for him, desperate to savor the illusion until mass, warmth and a heartbeat prove it to be real. Upon realizing, your breath hitches. He’s real. He’s real, and he’s here. No longer a dream. No longer a nightmare. No longer a vision only sleep can grant or mold, he stands before you. He takes a moment to properly slide the window shut behind him, returning the lock to its rightful position- keeping the rest of the world and the winter, out- before turning to face you once more. He can’t even get a word out before you’re pressed against him, wrapping your arms around him and holding yourself back from crushing him with the intensity of your longing. Overly cautious of injuries you can’t physically see- mindful of bruises, tears of flesh, and wounds that remain eclipsed by kevlar and moonlight- you embrace him with a hesitancy that severely undermines your fervor. Holding him gently- delicately, tenderly- the way you’ve dreamt about entwining with him on nights when sleep has been generous instead of cruel, you finally look up at him.

A sigh of relief dispels the hoarded tension in your neck, shoulders, and chest when you rest your head against his chest and inhale. Sweat and copper muddle his natural scent, but even when he’s covered in his victories, even when he’s drenched in his defeats, he still smells like home- warm, safe, familiar, and comforting.

He hesitates to envelop you with the same thinly veiled desperation, holding himself back.

Every muscle in his body carries the strain of battles fought and won. His head throbs with the force of his thoughts, and the inescapable dizziness that always accompanies crashing down from a high. Then again, he’s never been one to ease into things gracefully. Tiny cuts and scrapes, angry blacks and blues, and even gaping gashes that are still seeping and tender to the touch hardly register as anything other than a stinging, burning sensation. Everything is dull. Ferocity and intensity both subdued. Through the haze of everything that competes for his attention, you’re the one thing that’s clear. As always, the hold you have on him, both physical and metaphorical, brings him back to his senses, but doubt keeps him withdrawn.

Warily wrapping his arms around you, Dick returns the gesture as best as he can. Cages built of muscle, meant to keep you close, refuse to lock you in place, and he finds it increasingly difficult to resist surrendering to you entirely. Just as his nerves begin to settle they spike once more when the gravity of the past few months finally begins to sink in. As you continue to tremble in his arms, he swallows a lump in his throat and fights the urge to hold you impossibly closer. If he weren’t so afraid, he’d never let go again. But he’s not the same man he was the last time you saw him. Having seen too much, he knows that he can’t let this become something more. Fear is rotten. He’s seen the future, and if he keeps leaning on you then he’s only going to drag you down with him. Regardless of what he really wants, he won’t let this become something more, but then he looks down at you in his shirt and realizes it’s always been something more- and it terrifies him more than anything.

When pink swirls around the drain- a muted severity of soapy lather and remnants of crusted, oozing red- he rests his forehead against the cold tiles and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a proper shower. Under the trickling scorch, he allows his shoulders to slump forward, letting the too-hot water soothe his muscles like a balm, and it stings in a way he welcomes- a reminder that he’s done it again, he’s survived the worst and now he just has to survive the recovery.

He’s never been good with the after, always losing himself in possibilities of what comes next without taking a minute to catch his breath, but he’s trying to be better. He owes it to you. Not only you but himself, too- but mostly you. So, he tries to forget. He pushes memories too fresh to be forgotten somewhere else, banishing them to the far corners of his mind and locking them away until he’s ready to face his demons at his own pace, on his own terms, but his wicked creations fight back. Even when they’re crafted from delusions, mirroring real-life counterparts with a precision too exact to be a figmented replication, he finds himself engaged in an internal match that never crowns a victor. It’s a conflict that never ceases, even after his own surrender. Still, he’s found that the intrusions are less when copper is overpowered by citrus, and when red, inevitably swirls into pink.

Steam amplifies the smell of sweat and body odor, so pungent that the only word to describe it is bad, and he holds his breath while he reaches for your soap once more. He can’t believe you let him anywhere near you. It’s even more unfathomable that you sought an embrace, despite the remnants of battle that’ve woven themselves into his being- lingering, even long after. He’s repulsed by that which exposes him, a stench so strong that it serves as a testament to the fact that he reclaimed you as soon as he could, coming right back to this haven of sorts without any prior stops, and his stomach churns uncomfortably, the once soothing mist tainting each attempt at air, and a weight teases the aching muscles of his chest which breath does not alleviate.

Through the haze, he sees the truth- when reality remains undistorted by the tricks of his own want and longing, he recognizes fact without his own warped perceptions of fantasy- and he realizes just how careless he’s been. By allowing desire to suade better judgment, he’s put you at risk. Guilt punishes with an onslaught of emotions ranging from frustration to anger, sadness to grief, and even regret to sorrow. His own reluctance to accept how dangerous it was, and always has been, to lean on your affections as a crutch has finally caught up to him. After all that he’s seen, after everything he’s been forced to bear witness to over the past few months, coupled with a lifetime of loss, he’s no longer able to ignore the thought that’s broken free from the shackles of elsewhere. What was once dull, always there but never really forgotten, has become intense and persistent.

Every time he finds his way back to you, he invites peril into your life. He’s hazardous. Even if he’s not, being attached to him- in any way- puts you at an even greater risk of endangerment. Trying to justify something even as tame as a friendship is absurd. You’re so much more than that. Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you’ve found a place within his heart. Every beat echoes your name and carries secrets of his devotion. All that remains of the walls meant to protect both of you is rubble, and Dick stands alone in the epicenter of the aftermath, unsure and torn between chaos and order. Selfishly, he wants. Greedily, he craves. Morally, he knows that he should just walk away- but he can’t.

The scene shifts, ceramic tile falling away to reveal an eerie, yet familiar boneyard, and he shakes his head. It’s not real. It was never real- but it was so vivid. Cold fog obscures his vision, and he closes his eyes. This is a trick. This isn’t truth. He knows what comes next. Forced to indulge in his worst nightmares, the shrill, piercing sound of your terror renders him numb. He can’t move. Paralyzed, he fights limbs of lead, but he can’t act. It surrounds him, your agony, and he can’t do anything to save you. He can’t protect you. With each cry of his name, you plead, but there’s nothing he can do. When silence follows his ragged breaths, he refuses to look down. He hates this part the most, but he doesn’t have a choice. Crimson stains the black and blue weave, and he can taste metallic. He doesn’t have any control over this hallucination, born and bred from his greatest fear, and all he can do is witness the fallout of your shared torture- your blood on his hands, his body slumped against your tombstone, and the triumphant laughter of a clown, a scarecrow, a ventriloquist, and a hundred more that delight in your demise.

He can’t catch his breath. Drifting further and further away from reality, he struggles to claw his way back towards the light. When his vision begins to fade, he reaches for more soap. In for three counts, out for four. In for three counts, and out for four, again, Dick feels lightheaded. There’s no limit to how far he’d go to keep you safe, not a single rule or code he wouldn’t break to protect you from anything and everything- and that’s an entirely different threat, in and of itself. His loyalty has the potential to become his ruin, and he’d let it- for your sake- but would that be enough? Could his devotion be enough to keep you safe from the otherwise brutal fate that awaits you with, and without, his intervention?

The bite of a washrag leaves his skin raw. Lost to his thoughts, he’s been mindlessly scrubbing away at his flesh, dousing himself with bubbled distraction. Another breath fails to alleviate his unease. All he can think about is that which is out of his control, and he can’t help but wonder, is there even a chance for the two of you?

Every thought is a contradiction.

He could wax poetic to Bruce about love- how precious and fragile and conscious it is- but he can’t even bring himself to act upon his own advice. Even worse than following in a denialist’s footsteps is being a hypocrite, but there are just too many variables for him to take into account- too many what-ifs and maybe’s that enable him to cower behind words left unspoken.

In spite of this, he dares to dream of a future where you’re his and he’s yours, and nothing else matters. Lost to his delusions, a smile threatens to work muscles that’ve remained dormant for months of disuse. It hurts. Stretching, pulling, and manipulating his face to actually convey what he’s feeling instead of trying to veil it, hurts. However, the worst pain follows. As he reaches for the illusion, it slips through his fingers- so close he can almost hold it, yet just out of reach, simultaneously- and just like that, reality distorts the mirage. Pried from him, ripped away and sporting his claw marks, what could’ve been remains what could’ve been- and it’s all his fault.

Fear suppresses his love.

He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose this, too. He won’t. However glutinous, he craves more- even when he knows he can’t have it, he wants with a desire that’s almost too strong to ignore. Almost. Locking his feelings away, he throws away the key, but his ribs begin to expand with the intensity of his longing, and his chest feels tight. This isn’t like before. It seems as if his secrets have outgrown their cages, and he finds himself at a crossroads. His mind begins to drift and he wonders if this agony is why Bruce kept Selina at arm’s length…

A sigh, and a revelation- he’s not Bruce, and you’re not Selina.

Dick’s been going about this all wrong. Despite everything he’s been taught about love and loss, he’s allowed a life outside of a domino mask and kevlar. He deserves to cherish someone, to protect and devote himself to something other than his work- someone to fight for, someone to come home to- and he deserves to be beloved, too. Even if only for tonight. Even if tomorrow isn’t promised and all you have is right now, you’re here. On the other side of the frosted glass screen and plaster, you’re waiting for him. Another smile, less forced and genuine, feels like a relief instead of a burden. His skin pebbles under the frigid stream left in the wake of molten steam. With a shiver, he seeks your warmth, reaching for the faucet and stepping out of the enclosure.

A worn shirt rests atop the counter, the fabric faded from years of wear and wash, folded neatly beneath a pair of fresh boxers and socks likely left behind from the last time, or the time before that, or even the time before…truth be told, he thought he’d lost it, misplaced it, or given it away. Of course, you’ve had it in your care, all along. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smile. Slipping the towel from around his waist, he begins to dress, wondering when you managed to sneak in without him hearing you. The door used to creak, and he realizes that you must have fixed it while he was gone. It’s hard not to think about what else might’ve changed since the last time he saw you. Would you have stayed with him, if he asked you to? You always have. Six years and counting, he muses if you always will…

His hair is getting long, again. Droplets fall from the overgrown strands at the base of his neck down his back, making him shiver and reach for his towel once more. He pats his hair down, ruffling it with the towel a few times before wiping away at the mirror. Making eye contact with his reflection he’s the first to look away. He’s looked worse and supposes that's a small win in and of itself, though he can’t stand the sight of himself any longer than he has to. A deep exhale and a shake of his head diverts his attention to the countertop where a spare toothbrush has been left out for him to use. Of course, he already knows where the toothpaste is. He helps himself with a growing smile and places it in the holder right next to yours when he’s done. His chest expands with something he can’t quite name when he finds himself surrounded by gentle reminders of your care. A small cup of water and painkillers act as physical embodiments of your thoughtfulness and he revels in the knowledge that you’re letting him know you’re there for him while giving him space to come down from whatever adrenaline rush the past few months have spiked. It’s in those silent gestures of love that he hears it the loudest, echoing and amplifying all around him.

It must be killing you to act so selflessly, and he tries not to be selfish with your affections, but it’s difficult not to feel like a burden when you’ve rearranged more than just a spot on the counter, or a place for him to keep his toothbrush next to yours, for him- giving him a home without expecting anything else in return.

Down the hall, the mattress protests against his arrival, angry springs squeaking from months of disuse before welcoming his weight and warmth on the side opposite of yours- his side, from the very moment, years ago, when he found his way back to you after a night that left him bloody and beaten but not broken. Never broken- not when he’s always had you. Though most memory of the first evening spent beside you remains a blur, the ability to recall details and specifics stolen from him as his wounds wept crimson tears that stained your hands and upholstery, fondness prevails. Despite robbed recollections, tender warmth, and affection remain. Even then, he knew. Without really knowing, without certainty, he was certain- he loved you, and you loved him, and every gentle, devoted gesture has always reaffirmed the one thing he could never doubt. Every silent offering, every selfless sacrifice, and piece of yourself that you’ve surrendered to him further insists that your heart acts in favor of three words never spoken.

His arm finds your waist easily, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to tiptoe around his reluctance to accept what this is, anymore. Not when you’re here. Not when you’re waiting so patiently for him, and snuggle back into his hold the moment he reaches out for you. Some limbs tangle, but not yours- the two of you fit perfectly together, like you were truly meant to be, and the moment that you’re allowed to converge, you press your palm flat against his arm, holding him close to you.

Reacquainting yourself with him after is always your favorite part. Though, your heart cleaves when your fingertips ghost over a new scar- the skin still raised and angry, even if the wound has closed. With something akin to sympathy, an apology for the pain he’s suffered that you can’t take away, you gently trace the new mark in acknowledgment.

Tomorrow, or later today, when the sunlight illuminates the sky, you’ll ask him about it. Or, maybe you won’t. When the first glimpses of warm light threaten to spill over the horizon, you might get answers to the questions you’ve spent the last few months pondering. Or, perhaps everything unasked will remain unresolved. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that tonight, you’ll sleep- safe and protected, at ease and engulfed by all things him- and even if it only lasts for the night, you’ll cherish whatever small moments of intimacy the moon grants before the sun, inevitably, rips them away- a fate you’ve grown to expect, time and time again.

Still, you let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the silence for only a moment before it’s interrupted.

“I love you,” Dick confesses softly, words warm and whispered against your shoulder encouraged by a fleeting moment of courage- and the tender caress of your touch- that prompt the secret to spill from his chest, an accident he fears he may have to render excuses for to salvage whatever broken pieces are left of this unspoken relationship.

“I know,” With your back towards him he misses the stretch of a smile ghosting your lips, and finds himself tensing behind you. Could you have really known? All this time? Is that why he always comes back? Is that why you let him? “I love you, too,”

“No, I mean, I really lo-“

“Tell me in the morning, yeah?” You suggest before he can get too far ahead of himself. Torn between wanting to clarify his confession and realizing that maybe he doesn’t have to, Dick relents. He can’t really argue, anyway- having kept this to himself for so many years, another few hours won’t hurt. With a breath- of acceptance, not defeat or surrender- he closes his eyes and finally relaxes into your embrace.

It’s over.

For now, Dick can rest easy knowing that when the smell of bergamot fades, this tacit love will always remain, and he finds enough comfort in the realization to let it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: I love him so much!!! this has been rotting in my brain for nearly a year and I just found it in my drafts last night lol! anyway, this started as a challenge to myself where I wanted to see if I could write something with only five lines of dialogue, and I'm curious to hear how you all think it turned out! as always, requests are open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

everyone who requested to be tagged: @idyllcy @wicked-laugh @ul4lume

Send me some feedback, or request to be added to my taglist! (please specify which taglist you’d like to be added to- character or general) !Requests: OPEN!

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#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson angst #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing fluff #dc titans #dc imagine #dc comics imagine #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n

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strawhbrrries · 1 year

Text

Cowboy hats.

pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: five days and five nights without a single word from frank, what an asshole. an asshole who looks too damn good in a cowoy hat.

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!,unprotected p in v sex!!, praise kink asf, soft frank, frank being an asshole for the first like two thousand words, cowboy hate frank, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 4015 words

author’s note: end of the road for darlin’ and frankie (probably not, i absolutely will write more, smaller, things for them, but this is the end of the cowgirl series!! I loved writing for them and hope i did them justice!! I hope you guys it enjoy it, mwah

read the first one here, and the second here !

It had been five days, five entire days and nights without speaking to Frank. Not that you didn’t try, you had been texting him. Multiple times. Just to get “read at 2:30” every time. Every. Damn. Time. He brushed you off if you spoke to him in person, ignored your texts, you would soon resort to carrier pigeon. What the fuck happened to Frankie who was calling you his girl? The fucking 180 he pulled was pissing you off. The rational side of you tried to convince yourself he wasn’t your boyfriend, he had made no promises to you, he was free to ignore you all he wanted. No matter how angry it made you. The irrational side didn’t care, he had been inside of you raw, he owes you some explanation. What a fucking little fuckboy move to fucking make.

Ironically, Boyfriend by COIN played through your car. Not now.

“I don’t wanna be your boyfriend,

When you need a little company,

I don’t wanna be your boyfriend,

When there’s not another phone to ring.”

You searched through the passenger seat for your phone once your car was safely stopped at the red light, this was absolutely NOT the song to play. Of all the songs on your playlist, of course it had to be this one. The universe wasn’t done playing cruel jokes on you, it was almost like it wanted to see you suffer just a tiny bit more. A black truck pulled up next to you, in the left turn lane. Frank’s black truck. That Frank was driving. It would take a miracle to save you from driving your car off a cliff, today was testing you and you were losing. He shot you a smile from his driver’s seat, giving you a two finger wave without lifting his hand off the steering wheel.

A smile. The nerve of this guy. The fucking nerve.

The light turned green before you were able to yell all the expletives you knew in all the languages you knew them in. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. You were meeting Tiff at a bookstore for a girls day, she was going to get an earful of what happened five days ago and the fucking nerve he has to act this way.

“I mean, he is fifty. Right? Maybe he’s just not used to dating culture. He had a wife previously, I think, so just talk to him.” Tiff reasoned, tracing her finger up the spine of a book before pulling it off the shelf to read the description on the back.

“Even if dating culture is different, he gave me his number. Said we’d talk later and has given me the coldest shoulder possible. Then has the nerve to smile at me like none of this has happened.” You whined, frustrated that this was even happening. Initially, you had planned to just be pretty and reap the perks of it this summer. Not get hung up on an older man that’s best friends with your dad.

“Does he even know you’re angry? I mean he’s not a mind reader and neither are you, ambush his house when you know he’s there. I don’t think he’d shy away from being alone with you.” She teased, poking your side and placing the book back in its rightful spot on the shelf. “Then, you can set boundaries and what not. Fuck. And make up!”

“I would sooner punch him in that smug attractive stupid fucking face.” You rolled your eyes, knowing deep inside the next time he was in your presence and willing to take you to bed that you would be there. You didn’t know how to say no to him.

“We both know that is the furthest thing from the truth.” Tiff raised her eyebrow at you and cocking her head, daring you to argue about it.

“Shut up, I’m trying to learn to have some self control.” You tried to hide a smile, failing miserably and rolling your eyes instead. “I’ll ambush him later, he better be there or be prepared to feel my wrath.”

“That’s my girl!” She laughed, clapping her hands the best she could with the books in her hands. “Make sure he really understands the anger. The rage!”

To keep true to your word, you drove by his house on the way to yours to see if he was home. He wasn’t. Fucker. You knew it wasn’t intentional but it sure felt that way, because of all days and of all times he wouldn’t be there. However, to your surprise, he was parked in your driveway. You parked in your usual spot and headed inside, stopping right inside the house when you heard the two men inside.

“How was your date the other night?” He went on a date, what the fuck?

“Horrible. She was still hung up on her ex-husband, talked about him all night.” Good, hope every woman you go on a date with does that. Asshole.

“Sorry man, you’ll find someone someday.” Your dad tried consoling him, your anger was bubbling and the next word of this conversation was going to be your breaking point. Did the sex truly mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him? Were you just a quick fuck to get the desire out and then move on?

You closed the front door loudly to announce your presence, walking into the kitchen where said men were sitting at the kitchen table. Frank had his legs spread, hand hanging between them with a beer in his hand. The kicker was, he was wearing a cowboy hat, his hair fluffing out on the side. To add onto the never ending list of things making this, currently insufferable, man so attractive he was wearing some sort of red henley with the top buttons undone so you could see the gold chains decorating his neck.

“Hey daddy!” You smiled at your dad, handing him a book he had mentioned twenty times he wanted to read. Your words caused Frank to clear his throat and sit straighter in the seat, you could play his game much worse than he can.

“What’s the occasion, honey?” He always had weird ways of saying thank you, as in he never really did and would instead pay you back by making your favorite food for dinner tomorrow or ordering a dress you really wanted. You figured it was just how he grew up.

“You deserve it, daddy! You do so much for me and treat me so well! I’m gonna take a shower.” And with that you were off up the stairs, flipping Frank off once you got to a point in the stairs where the wall covered you.

You locked your bedroom door. He didn’t need to come in here and desecrate your room anymore than he already had. If he didn’t have such a big dick and fantastic hands you would’ve murdered him already, why bless bad men with great appendages.

Your mind raked itself for answers, you truly couldn’t come up with one that didn’t end with you not being good enough for him. The date was the trulying baffling part to you, the cold shoulder you could deal with just fine but the date was just cruel. If he didn’t want you he shouldn’t have left his number, shouldn’t have fucked you within an inch of you life, shouldn’t have called you his. He shouldn’t have even read the messages, deleted them and blocked your number. He read them and actively chose to not respond, you didn’t know if it was any worse than just blocking you. If the universe was cruel, Frank castle was worse.

Your door knob jiggled, quite a few times before you heard the sound of boots going downstairs. You knew he would come up here and try to act like it was all peachy keen, like he hadn’t been twisting the knife he placed in your back. Your phone dinged.

I know you heard, at least let me explain.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absolute nerve he has had today.

No.

Darlin’, please.

Fuck off, Frank.

Fucking COIN was right, he didn’t want to be your boyfriend. How fucking foolish could you have been. How could you imagine he’d settle down for a twenty-two year old girl who was related to his best friend. You flopped down on your bed and let out a very long, very needed, scream. The tears started coming, you hadn’t been this emotional in a very long time, the tears you had initially shed over Frank turned into tears over everything you’d bottled up. Your tears comforted you into dreamland. You awoke to four texts from Frank.

It’s not how it seems. Sent 9:30pm

Darlin’ I swear, I had to do it. Sent 10:05pm

Two nights with you has me ready to fill every ocean with blood, sweat, and tears for you so don’t act like that. Sent 5am

Your dad set up the date, I couldn’t not go. Was I supposed to tell him I’d rather be fucking his daughter? Sent 5:30am

It didn’t matter to you that your dad set the whole thing up, you responded with a simple yes and placed your phone back on the nightstand you picked it up from. Men are so stupid, you could think of two ways he could’ve gotten out of the date without you being involved. Still doesn’t explain the five day freeze out, if he had been honest about the date it wouldn’t have mattered . As much. He better come up with the best damn excuse for this shit or you swore you’d never speak to him again.

Frank’s phone dinged in his pocket, he’d been waiting all morning for you to respond. He knew you would, just as you were his vice. He was yours. The second you walked in the kitchen last night it was taking all his self control to not pull you onto his lap, continue his conversation with your dad, trailing his fingers up and down your leg. He knew you were angry with him, you had every right to be, but he didn’t know how to even begin explaining the situation. Your dad was being suspicious, he thought it was odd that Frank spent an extended amount of time in your room the other night, thought it was weird that everytime your name was mentioned Frank’s nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. It was your dad who suggested setting up the date, watched Frank’s face as he brought it up to see if he’d give away anything. Frank was saving you both, he was doing this for you. In some twisted way.

The date happened the night after he slept with you, he felt guilty to have gone behind your back. He didn’t want to see you look so excited to see him when he felt tainted. He didn’t do anything with the woman, opened her car door and moved back her seat but he never once laid a finger on her. Her smile wasn’t as sweet as yours, her laugh not as gentle and filling, and she wasn’t nearly as beautiful. Frank spent most of the date thinking of you and how he wished it was you in front of him, not this woman who couldn’t be bothered to speak of anything besides her ex-husband. He thought she’d get the hint that he was bored, he stopped responding to her questions and was now scanning the restaurant making up stories about the other patrons to pass the time.

He just wanted to be with His cowgirl.

Seeing you in your car yesterday made the guilt twist in his heart, he needed to speak to you. But you didn’t want to speak to him, especially not after what you heard in the house. That’s why when his phone dinged and he had the feeling it was you, his face lifted and he was filled with a warmth only you could give to him. The one word you replied with had made the past five days almost bearable.

You know I can’t do that. Can I see you after work? Please, darlin’

He placed his phone back into his back pocket, taking a deep breath as he awaited your response. God, he hoped you responded. It didn’t matter if you didn’t say a word to him the whole time he explained it, he needed to see you and he needed you to understand why he did what he did. He meant what he said, he’d fill every ocean on the fucking planet with blood, sweat and tears if it meant your happiness. He’d go back to the life he left to ensure your safety.

Fine.

If the rest of the day was the worst day possible he could deal with that, he could deal with anything as long as it meant getting to see you when he got off. He truly didn’t know how you would react or what it meant for the two of you going forward. He could only hope for the best. Whatever that even was.

You spent the rest of the day thinking about what he could possibly explain to you, it was clear that he wasn’t as interested as you thought before. Would you even believe it, whatever his excuse was? Or would you immediately forgive him because it meant he would be back in your life, would you forget it even happened and go back to playing girlfriend. You wanted to forget, to act like it never hurt, but you wanted him to understand how it felt. To be treated like the top of the world and then dumped like you meant nothing.

You wore red.

That was the first thing Frank noticed as you walked up his driveway clad in a flowy red sundress, you remembered his favorite color and the conversation about wearing it the next time you saw him. Forgiveness was in there somewhere, he knew it. You noticed he was wearing that damn cowboy hat again, damn he was playing a hard game.

“Thanks for coming darlin’, I was kinda worried you wouldn’t.” He didn’t stand up from his chair on the porch to greet you, in some way you were kinda glad but you mostly figured it’s because you’re on his porch and everyone can see.

“Yeah, I just hope you’ve got something real good up your sleeve.” You responded bluntly, sitting in the chair next to him and smoothing your dress out. “You’re an asshole, Frankie.’

“I know, I fuckin’ know baby. Just listen, okay? I’ll explain and then you can fuckin’ obliterate me but I need you to listen.” He sat up straighter, reaching to take one of your hands in his, rubbing his thumb across the top.

“We don’t have all night, I suggest you start talking.” He could’ve swore he saw a hint of a smile playing on your lips as you spoke.

“Your dad, I know I can’t blame it all on him. He came to me, after I left your room, and he hinted he was a bit suspicious of us. What he said doesn’t matter, just know he was suspicious. He said he had a date planned for me, thought it would be nice for me to meet a woman ‘my own age’ and gave me the information. Darlin’, if I said no he would’ve caught on the next time I spent more than a minute with you, I did this for us. For you, baby. I didn’t touch her, barely spoke the whole time. She spent more time talking about her ex-husband, I’m not sure she even knew my name,” you giggled at that, she didn’t deserve to know him,”Took her home, didn’t give her my number. Nothin’. I came here and thought of you, all night. Thought about how I was supposed to tell you. I felt gross, and I’ve done bad things darlin’. Bad things.”

“I don’t care what bad things you’ve done, because that’s not you. Not now.” You whispered, taking your free hand and caressing his cheek. He leaned into your touch, so soft and warm.

“That’s the thing, I’d do it again. I’d do all those bad things again, for you.” He admitted, watching you process his words. It should’ve scared you, should’ve made you run off his porch and block his number. It excited you, made your core throbbed at the thought of someone loving you enough to do those ‘bad things’ he spoke of. You were smart enough to make your own conclusions about what he meant.

“But why did you ignore me? That really hurt, Frankie. It really fucking sucked.”

“I told you. I felt gross, undeserving of you. I went on a date with someone who wasn’t you and it was eating at me, even if my reasons were just.” He truly looked apologetic, you came here looking to stick it to him but you melted the second he started talking. He did it for you and you were sat thinking he just didn’t like you and wanted a quick fuck.

“Frankie..” You whispered, looking at him like he’d hung the moon and all the stars. Scanning the other houses to predict who could’ve seen you here.

“Don’t do that. Don’t look at me like that, darlin’.” He groaned, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. You were a goddamn dream.

“I’d like a tour of your bed.” You giggled, the way you figured was he at least owed you some sort of makeup sex. You were melting the second he said he’d do bad things for you, he had to fix the problem he started.

“Mmm I can arrange that, c’mon cowgirl.” He tightened the grasp on the hand he was holding and led you inside, it smelled just like he did. Slight scent of gunpowder, tobacco from the cigars he smoked with your father, some sort of leather and coffee. You could drown yourself in the scent.

“Your place is so…you.” You observed. There were more cowboy hats hung up by the door, more boots on the floor, a whiskey cabinet in the living room which led you to assume everything else was held in his kitchen, the lighting was dim.

“Might shock ya to hear that I live here.” He teased, leading you through the kitchen and down a hallway to his bedroom. His room was sparsely decorated, he was only a man what could he say.

“I would’ve never guessed.” You smiled, letting go of his hand to flop down on his bed. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as yours, didn’t have nearly as many blankets and pillows.

Frank slid his hands down your thighs as they hung off the bed, admiring the sight of you in his bed. He didn’t deserve you or what you were about to give him. But Frank Castle was a greedy man, he’d take everything you were willing to give. Especially when it came to you. He slowly massaged your thighs, moving both hands to one of your legs and massaging all the way down. You propped yourself on your elbows, watching him curiously as he massaged you.

“What’re you doing, Frankie?” You asked softly, genuine curiosity present in your voice. His lips lifted at the nickname, as they did every time you called him that since the first time.

“Jus’ lovin’ on my lady, do you have a problem with that?” He tilted his head down and raised an eyebrow, the cowboy hat slipping a bit as he did so.

“Nope, no problems. Just thought you were gonna take me to bed, ‘s all.”

“You know how to pick my brain, findin’ all the right things to say and when to say ‘em. My pretty girl, made just for me. Ain’t that right?” He let go of your leg, hiking your dress up so he didn’t sit on it when he straddled your waist. “Knew this was gonna happen, huh? Did ya find the laciest red panties you could find? You got words, I know you do.”

“For you, told you I’d do it.” You pulled the top of the dress down to realize the matching lacy red bra, all for your Frankie. He let out a low groan, you were too good to a man who didn’t deserve you. Too tainted to touch the pureness of your soul.

Frank helped you out of your dress, throwing it into the corner of his room, he stared at you a long time. The matching red set was something out of his dreams, he wanted to sear the image of you wearing it in his bed in his head forever. He ran his hands over your stomach, your thighs, anywhere his hands could reach. It’s crazy how fast a person can come to mean so much to you, especially when they’d been around for years. One night changed everything for the both of you, changed the meaning of love for Frank. He’d figure out how to get your dad on board late, for tonight you were his sweet thing to make sweet love to.

The cowboy hat was left on at your request, he didn’t mind as long as you kept letting the giggles out when it bumped your forehead as he thrusted up into you. Your red bra was left on at his request, a reminder that this was all for him. That it was all real and not some cruel dream. Your moans and whimpers a sweet symphony to his ears, he’d pay over and over and over to hear. Your nails gripping his back, when he checked in the mirror later that evening it’d be adorned with light pink scratches and half moons scattered across it, holding onto him like he was going to disappear again. His thrusts were slow but deep, hitting all the right spots inside you, his hands holding your head to look at him as he showed you everything he couldn’t say with words.

His words were equally dirty and sweet, just like him.

“Pretty baby, you feel how you’re squeezin’ me?”

“God, gonna lock you away. Keep you all to myself, use you when I want. Make you my pretty housewife.”

“”S alright baby, Frankie’s got you. Gonna take good care of this pussy, make ‘er feel good.”

The two of you came together, he talked you softly through the whole thing. Peppered kisses across your face and down your neck, praising you for how good you did even though he did all the work. He traced his initials, FC, above your heart with his fingers before placing a kiss right where he traced. Marking you, invisibly, as his forever and ever.

“Don’t ever go on another date with another woman.” You teased softly, looking up at him when you came to.

“I’m not doin’ nothin’ with another woman that’s not you. Promise, darlin’.” He placed a soft kiss to your lips, nipping at your bottom lip and pulling away to look at your face. He wiped away the sweaty hairs that had stuck themselves to your face.

“Good, my Frankie.”

“Your Frankie.” He’d softened in his older years, in his years with you he’d soften even more than previously thought. Frankie, as he came to be known to everyone you introduced him to, never could say no to you. That included the day you decided you wanted to tell your dad about him, you were tired of sneaking around. Even if it was fun. You’d been in an actual established relationship for a while at that point, he was going to find out eventually. In true Frankie fashion he sighed, shot back the rest of his whiskey and said Okay, darlin’. The mental battle he fought, briefly, about you lost the second you assured him you’d traverse it together. Loving you was the best thing Frank Castle would ever come to do in all his life.

#frank castle #jon bernthal #dbf frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #maddies fics #dads best friend frank castle #dads best friend #the punisher #jon bernthal smut #fic: cowgirl <3

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jgracie · 4 months

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ CALL ME MAYBE?

↳ part one!

ferrari driver!percy jackson x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

on the radio . . . call me maybe (carly rae jepsen)

an i remembered i wrote that other blurb and so i decided to write a part 2 for it!!!

"y/n, you have to call him!" your friend said for the nth time as you started down at the number you typed into the keypad on your phone app, ready for you to hit that bright green call button

ever since you told her about what happened between you and the mystery man the two of you now dubbed PJ, she'd been begging you to call him - mostly because she was mad you passed up the opportunity to get free formula one tickets, but also because to her, this was a 2000s romcom in the making. you personally didn't see it, since he was just some rich guy you drove home one night, nothing more. she, however, was convinced this was the universe delivering your soulmate to you

huffing, you turned around on your bed, now laying on your back and staring at the ceiling, your phone no longer in your hand and instead right next to you. rookie mistake

as soon as she saw that you let go of your phone, your friend grabbed it and called the number you’d typed in. you were too busy thinking about whether or not to call PJ to notice this happening, only snapping out of your thoughts once he’d already picked up and your friend had begun talking

“oh, i’m layla! but this isn’t my phone, i’m talking from my friend’s phone!” your jaw dropped as you watched her converse with your mystery man - you didn’t think he’d actually pick up if you did decide to call

meanwhile, percy was confused. he was pretty good at hiding personal information, how did a fan manage to find his personal phone number? he wracked his brain for an explanation when the memory of that night hit him like a truck

"wait, are you the one who drove me home?" he asked, his heart beating as fast as the ferrari car he was known for

"no, that would be my friend, y/n!" layla replied, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows at you, "oh, you wanna talk to her? sure!" despite your protests, she put percy on speaker before handing you the phone. you opened your mouth but nothing came out. luckily, percy decided to start the conversation for you

"hi, i'm glad you saw the paper i left in your car. what took you so long?" he asked, a smile making its way onto his lips. it had been a week since he took his chances with you and every day that passed without a call from a mystery number made him more and more worried that you hadn't seen the slip of paper or, even worse, you didn't care to call

you giggled, and percy wished he had this call recorded so he could go back and listen to that sound forever, "sorry, i was really nervous, to be completely honest. its not every day some random guy jumps into your car in the middle of the night, gets you to drive him home and then leaves his number in your car."

percy's eyebrows furrowed at your use of the phrase 'random guy'. when you hadn't acted as a fan usually would, he assumed you either were too frightened to recognise him or that you were pretending to be oblivious out of politeness

"wait... do you not know who i am?" he asked. he hated sounding arrogant, but he couldn't help it - meeting someone who liked you for you and not the money or fame was very rare for a guy like percy

"no? am i supposed to? you didn't introduce yourself or anything, i just know your initials are PJ..." you mumbled, hoping you didn't forget anything from your interaction as it'd be awfully embarrassing

"it's fine," he replied, "i'm percy jackson—" before he could continue, layla, who'd been listening to your conversation the entire time, gasped and snatched the phone from your hands

"like the f1 driver percy jackson? is that why you offered her tickets? can we still get them?" she bombarded the poor guy with questions then, turning to you, she said, "why didn't you tell me the guy you drove home was the percy jackson? i showed you pictures of him before, you should've known!"

taking your phone back from her, you said, "do i look like i'd remember the name and face of some guy who drives cars for a living?" then, you left your room and headed to the kitchen, deciding that was enough humiliation for one day

"i'm sorry about her, she's like, a huge fan of yours," you said, hoping this didn't ruin the slim chances you had with percy. to your surprise, he laughed. before hearing this, you didn't think it was possible for a mere laugh to make you blush

wiping a stray tear from his eye, percy said, "its alright, i'm used to it... just a guy who drives cars for a living, though? i'm hurt, y/n. i thought we built a special connection that night!"

you rolled your eyes and smiled at this, "you'll need to do a lot more than get me to drive you home to build a connection with me, car boy."

"okay then, where do you live?" he asked, catching you off-guard, "let me drive you somewhere this time, i am the professional after all."

well, maybe layla was right all along

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson blurb #f1 driver pjo #f1 driver percy jackson #f1 driver percy jackson x reader #cynwrites

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bloodreinasbathwater · 3 months

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My Sunshine

Jack Hughes X F!Reader (pregnancy au)

a.n: Jacks initial chapters are coming to a close. after part 6 I will be putting out the mini chapters for the baby shower, nursery, birth, etc. this took forever but part 5 is finally done!!!

Warnings: pregnancy, sad jack, anxiety, mention of blood (briefly) , eventual smut. not proofread either so good luck.

Word Count - 3,728

Pregnancy series link / Jacks masterlist

Y/N's chest tightened as Jack's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, his foot pressing down a bit too firmly on the gas pedal as they merged onto the bustling highway. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the road ahead, while a flock of birds soared gracefully overhead, their wings catching the golden light.

Y/N's gaze flickered between the cars rushing past them, each one a blur of colors and shapes, in the rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of Jack's jaw clenching subtly, a telltale sign of his nerves despite his outward calm demeanor.

The tension in the air was palpable, mirroring the whirlwind of emotions that churned within Y/N as she grappled with the aftermath of the fight with Jason and the numerous events from the past week.

At her latest doctor's appointment, the doctor explained that due to her hormonal makeup, she likely wouldn't experience the same swelling and baby bump as most expectant mothers.

Rather than protruding outwards, her uterus would grow inwards towards her spine, minimizing her visible signs of pregnancy. It was an atypical condition, but the baby was developing perfectly based on the dating of the ultrasound.

She had finally worked up the courage to tell her best friend Heather everything, including the fight with Jason and her fears about keeping Jack around without telling him the truth. She stole a glance at him in the driver's seat.

Jack's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, fingers flexing anxiously. Despite his outward nerves, she found comfort in his familiar mannerisms after his team's big win last night.

"You don't have to do this if you aren't ready," Jack said, voice strained. He blinked rapidly, adam’s apple bobbing. "My parents will understand if we reschedule."

Y/N shook her head, subconsciously resting a hand on her still-flat stomach. In between putting the finishing touches on her latest book release, this had been her one constant thought. "No, I want to meet them. Just a little nervous I guess."

They neared Jack's childhood neighborhood, y/n’s stomach twisted into anxious knots, and she wiped her damp palms against her jeans. Jack's hardy pickup truck rumbled beneath them, the weather-worn bench seat creaking as she fidgeted restlessly.

He must have noticed her nerves ramping up because suddenly his calloused hand reached across the console, muscular forearm brushing her thigh as he twisted the volume dial. The opening chords of a classic country song blared through the truck's speakers, the unmistakable twang of the singer's voice filling the cab.

Then, Jack started singing - his rich voice rumbling from deep within his barrel chest. He wore a faded green jersey stretched taut across his broad shoulders, the slightest hint of chest hair peeking into the open button. Hanging one hand lazily from the steering wheel, he used the other to dramatically lip-sync and serenade Y/N with exaggerated motions.

She clapped one hand over her mouth, desperately trying to muffle the unstoppable peals of laughter at his ridiculous performance. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes as Jack waggled his eyebrows and threw her sultry looks, his whole face alight with uninhibited joy.

By the time the truck rumbled up the driveway of the cozy two-story home, they were both doubled over in unbridled laughter. Jack killed the engine but left the music playing softly, the tinny sound of the singer's voice drifting through the cab.

Wiping a mirthful tear from her cheek, Y/N watched as Jack's expression softened into one of pure tenderness. He reached out to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering to trace her jaw before cupping her face and drawing her in for a sweet, lingering kiss on the cheek. She melted at his unhurried affection, her heart swelling on the receiving end of such gentle adoration.

From outside the truck, one could hear the quiet murmuring of their voices and Jack's baritone humming snatches of the song's melody. His broad shoulders hunched as he ducked out of the cab before rounding the front of the truck.

The driver's side door groaned open, and Jack's scuffed air forces crunched on the paved driveway as he hurried to open Y/N's door, gentlemanly offering his hand to help guide her down from the elevated cab.

Jack gave Y/N's hand a reassuring squeeze as they started up the driveway toward the house. The warm breeze ruffled her floral sundress, the lightweight fabric swaying around her calves as they climbed the gentle slope.

Jack's parents' yard was immaculately kept - the grass a lush, emerald carpet, meticulously trimmed hedges lining the path. Vibrant flower beds brimmed with a kaleidoscope of colorful blooms nodding in the breeze. It was picture-perfect, like something out of a magazine spread.

As they drew closer, Y/N could make out two figures standing at the top of the porch steps. An older couple, the woman's hands planted firmly on her hips in a scolding posture as she appeared to be lecturing a tall, younger man who could only be Jack's brother or cousin based on his uncanny resemblance.

They seemed oblivious to the approaching pair, attention fully focused on the sheepish-looking boy shuffling his feet in front of them.

Y/N tugged on Jack's hand, leaning in close. "Jack..." she murmured, grasping tighter to his reassuring strength.

He glanced over, following her line of sight up to the porch before giving her fingers another comforting squeeze. "It's okay, I'll be right here with you," Jack said lowly. That unwavering confidence bolstered her, and Y/N nodded uncertainly before continuing their approach.

As they reached the bottom of the porch steps, the older couple finally seemed to notice their arrival. Ellen and Jim's expressions immediately transformed - the scolding looks melting into warm, welcoming smiles as they rushed forward with open arms.

"Jackie! There you are, son," Jim bellowed in a jovial tone, pulling his son in for an embrace before turning to Y/N with a wink. "And you must be the young lady who's captured my boy's heart."

"Dad, come on!" Jack groaned, a pink hue blossoming high on his chiseled cheekbones as his father clapped him firmly on the back.

Ellen wasted no time in swooping in to greet Y/N, taking the younger woman's hands in her own calloused grip as she looked her over appraisingly. There was a kindness that crinkled the corners of her eyes as she met Y/N's nervous gaze.

"It's so wonderful to finally meet you, dear," Ellen said warmly. "Jackie hasn't been able to stop talking about you since he came home from the trip." She shot a conspiratorial wink towards her son, who ducked his head sheepishly.

Before Y/N could respond, a boisterous voice rang out from the porch. "Well, well, if it isn't the golden boy himself!" The tall, broad-shouldered man lumbered down the steps, arms spread wide. "Did you really think you could come home without getting the official Lucas McManus welcome?"

Jack had barely turned before he was enveloped in a bone-crushing bear hug, his brother's meaty arms constricting around his ribs. "Ugh, Luke, get off me, you big lug!"

Luke released him with a barking laugh. "Good to see you too.” His mischievous gaze landed on Y/N hovering by Jack's side. Before she could even draw a breath to introduce herself, he stepped forward and swept her into a surprisingly gentle hug, taking care not to crush her slight frame against his hulking form.

“I’m Luke, jacks younger and cooler brother,” he stage-whispered conspiratorially with an exaggerated wink.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle at his antics, feeling some of the nervous tension bleed out of her shoulders.

…

The family dinner was a lively, boisterous affair. The rustic oak table seemed to groan under the weight of the hearty spread - a thick slab of prime rib taking center stage, surrounded by heaping bowls of roasted potatoes, buttered vegetables, and fragrant yeasty rolls.

once they settled in, knees knocking together in the tight quarters, Luke wasted no time launching into a series of merciless chirps and good-natured ribbings directed at his younger brother. Jack took it all in stride, giving as good as he got with his own sly digs and underhanded compliments cloaked in insults in that unique way only siblings could manage.

Ellen tutted disapprovingly at their antics, even as the corners of her lips quirked up in an amused smile. "Boys, not in front of our guest!" she lightly scolded, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N's arm. The warm maternal weight of it was instantly comforting.

Across the table, Jim met Y/N's eyes with a roguish wink and a conspiratorial grin, his chest puffing out proudly as he watched his sons' spirited back-and-forth like it was the culmination of some legacy lineage of brotherly torment.

As dinner progressed in that rambunctious fashion, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at how the Hughes clan seemed to speak in an entirely separate language comprised of inside jokes, dramatics, and endless affectionate insults and barbs flung without malice.

She struggled to get a word in edgewise, but found herself thoroughly charmed by the liveliness, the evident closeness, the constant undercurrent of deep love and acceptance.

At one point, Ellen set down her fork with a measured look towards the two brothers. "So...any prospect of grandchildren to spoil rotten any time soon?" She asked with a perfectly arched brow and a sly smile.

Luke barked out a raucous guffaw, slapping his palm on the table. "Are you kidding, Mom? Quinn's still halfway in the closet. My money's on him!"

He missed Jack shaking his head decisively, arm tightening possessively around the back of Y/N's chair as he pulled her subtly closer to his side. "No, no. It's gonna be me for sure," he stated with conviction, bold gaze flickering to catch Y/N's eye. "Quinn's too old and only cares about hockey these days."

Y/N's heart slammed into her throat as the implication settled over her like a weighted blanket. She couldn't tell if the flush burning her cheeks was from mortification or if Jack genuinely meant what she thought he did. Before her mind could spiral any further down that path, she jumped at the opportunity to escape when Ellen began collecting plates.

"Let me help you with those dishes, Ellen," Y/N blurted, likely a touch too loud and enthusiastic as she shot out of her seat.

"Of course, honey," Ellen smiled warmly, stacking plates into Y/N's anxious hands.

Y/N rounded the table hastily, Jack's furrowed brow and worried eyes following her retreat from the dining room. She clutched the dishes tightly, using the porcelain edges to ground herself as she followed Ellen through the swinging door and into the sunny kitchen.

A tense silence fell over the remaining family members before Jim cleared his throat loudly, catching the attention of his two sons. He swirled the ice cubes in his glass contemplatively.

"So..." he began, leaning back in his chair to fix Jack with an inscrutable look. "How long have you two been together?"

Jack's cheeks flushed pink, one hand reflexively rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided his father's steady gaze. "Uh, five months or so," he admitted shyly after a pause. "I'm actually going to ask her to be my girlfriend tonight...officially."

Luke let out a low whistle, clapping Jack firmly on the shoulder with one meaty paw. "About damn time, big bro! We were all starting to wonder if you'd ever settle down with one girl."

From the kitchen, Y/N could hear the muffled sound of Jack's embarrassed groan and the raucous laughter that followed. She gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening as her heart rate kicked up another notch.

Girlfriend. The term sent her head spinning anew. She had assumed their relationship was casual, a fleeting rebound in the wake of Jason's toxicity. But now Jack wanted to make things official...permanent. How could she say yes and move forward when she was keeping something this big from him?

"Everything okay, dear?" Ellen's soft voice cut through the spiral of Y/N's thoughts. The older woman regarded her with a concerned furrow of her brow as she diligently started on the pile of plates.

Y/N managed a jerky nod, willing her features into a placid mask as she reached for the dishtowel to help dry. "Yes, of course! I just...needed a breather from all the family energy out there," she tried to joke.

Ellen hummed knowingly in response. "They can certainly be a handful, that bunch. But they mean well." Her gaze sharpened as she studied Y/N's tense profile. "Jack cares about you an awful lot, you know. We can all see how smitten he is."

The warm weight of Ellen's eyes was too much. Y/N twisted away under the guise of grabbing another dish from the rack, blinking rapidly against the telltale sting of tears threatening to well over.

… After skillfully avoiding any further emotional conversations in the kitchen, Y/N felt a bead of sweat trickle down her spine as she and Jack made their way towards the front door to leave. Her stomach twisted with nerves and unspoken truths.

"You'll have to come back again soon," Ellen insisted, enveloping Y/N in one of her warm, motherly hugs. There was an underlying knowing look in her eyes as she squeezed Y/N tight before releasing her.

Jim stepped forward next, pulling Y/N into an embrace and patting her back fondly. "It was wonderful to finally meet the woman who has our Jackie so dugzamped," he said with a wink towards his son.

"Dad!" Jack groaned in feigned exasperation, though his cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment.

Luke saved the most boisterous goodbye for last, sweeping Y/N up in a rib-crushing bear hug that left her feet dangling inches from the floor. "You take care of him, you hear?" He mock-scolded with a roguish grin, mercifully setting her back down before ruffling Jack's hair affectionately.

Jack batted his brother's hands away, straightening his mussed clothing with as much dignity as possible. He looped one arm around Y/N's waist, pulling her into his side reassuringly as they finally made their goodbyes.

The walk back towards Jack's truck seemed to stretch out interminably. Y/N's body felt like it was operating on autopilot as she let Jack guide her with a firm hand at the small of her back. Her mind raced with doubts and fears, rendering her temporarily mute.

It wasn't until they reached the driver's side door and Jack turned to face her, cupping her cheek tenderly, that she finally surfaced from her spiral with a full-body startle.

"Hey," he murmured, brows furrowed with concern. "You ok? You checked out there for a bit."

Y/N stared up at him mutely, her mouth working without any sound coming out. Get it together, she firmly told herself. Taking a steadying breath, she nodded shakily. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay. Just...a lot to process I guess."

Jack's features softened with understanding, replacing his tense expression to a gentle look of empathy. His thumb traced slow, comforting circles on her cheekbone, the roughness of his skin a stark contrast to her soft cheeks.

"Come on," he murmured softly, his voice steady and reassuring, "let's get you home."

…

"I think my mom might like you more than I do," he said with a chuckle, a hint of playful jealousy lacing his words. "She’s made me kinda jealous stealing all your attention. Family dinner will not be happening anytime soon I’ll tell you that much."

"I hope that’s true Jack," she replied softly, eyes reflecting the admiration she felt so deeply for him. "She’s amazing, I wish my mother was like her. She’s genuine and kind, I’m jealous of you." her eyes drifted down to her hands, she winced at the broken skin and bloody cuticles from her abuse. "I feel like everyone our age now has such shitty parents ya know," she muttered.

"Come on don’t say that sun," he urged gently, reaching over to grasp her hands in an attempt to stop her picking at them.

Jack's grip tightened on her hands and he shook his head firmly.

Jack's eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in a serious expression. He looked at her with concern, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "I hate hearing you talk like that."

"I’m serious Jack, really," she insisted, her free hand nervously toying with a loose thread on her dress. "I'm happy you have a good family. They did so well raising you, I can tell."

"You’re making me nervous," Jack admitted with a sheepish grin. "Do you always talk about your boyfriend’s parents like this? We’ll be like that one day,” he mused dreamily, "a few babies, home full of love... I can imagine it now; they look just like you."

"A family?" she repeated back. Y/N's heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. The mere suggestion sent a chill down her spine, her breath catching in her throat. Images of vulnerability and responsibility flooded her mind, each one more terrifying than the last.

"Uh yeah... I’m sorry it just slipped out," he stammered apologetically, the smile falling from his face. "I didn’t mean to be so weird about it... I’m sorry. Just forget I said that whole thing." he pleaded, his eyes darted around nervously, avoiding direct contact with Y/N's as he spoke, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Actually, no I didn’t,” he interjected suddenly, his eyes searching hers earnestly. “Yeah, your boyfriend... I want to be your boyfriend officially. I really like you and catch myself thinking about you all day; what you’re doing, new places I can take you... I want to be with you as more than friends." He paused before adding softly, "I knew the second I saw you in that coffee shop... I want to be your boyfriend if you’ll have me of course."

“Jack we can’t," she whispered sadly, avoiding his gaze.

"What?" His voice cracked with disbelief.

"Jack… You can’t date me." Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she continued hesitantly, "I really like you too Jack; god you have no idea...” She swallowed hard before confessing, “I wanna be in your skin half the time but it’s just that now's not a good time for me to be involved in that way...” Her hands trembled slightly as she spoke.

“I see what you have, and I don't want to ruin that,” she confessed tearfully. “You have a good healthy family people all around you...” A single tear rolled down her cheek as she added in a barely audible whisper, “I have no one but Heather...There’s no one there for me. If I dated you, I would just feel like I’m dragging you away from all the people who love you so I won’t be alone."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked away from jack. He searched her face desperately, hurt and confusion writ large across his features.

"And all of that makes you not want to be with me?" he asked hoarsely. "You don't wanna be with me?" Jack swallowed hard, gaze boring into hers intensely. "Was it tonight? That made you realize that? Did I make you uncomfortable?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face roughly. "I won't ever talk about kids again if that made you upset," Jack rambled, words tumbling out in a rush. "I just...we've been so happy. I was lost in thought and couldn't stop talking."

Y/N shook her head vehemently. "No, you didn't do any of that, Jack," she insisted, reaching out to clutch his arm. "I'm happy you feel that way, so fucking happy you even see a future with me."

Jack visibly deflated with relief at her reassurance, only for the tension to reset his shoulders as conflict flickered across his expression. "Then what is it?" he demanded, the hurt leaking into his tone now.

"How come you don't want to be with me? I assumed we were getting serious. You just met my family. I've been with you for five months and I've never felt like this for anyone in my life." His voice cracked with raw emotion. "No one has ever made me feel so loved or appreciated the way you do."

Tears spilled over Y/N's cheeks in shining rivulets. "I wish I could be honest with you," she choked out in a whisper. "Tell you the reason why I can't. But you'll just hate me for it."

Jack's features contorted in an anguished wince, and he surged forward to frame her face in his calloused palms. "Don't think so little of me," he pleaded gruffly. "I feel like I'm saying all the wrong things. Was it too soon to tell you how I feel about us?" Jack's eyes shimmered as he searched hers beseechingly. "Please. Just...what do I do now?"

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut against the swell of regret and pain lancing through her chest. With tremendous effort, she extricated herself from Jack's grip, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Jack," she rasped, backing away from him. "I really am, but I think I should go."

A stricken noise punched out of Jack at that, his hand reaching out as if to physically stop her retreat. "Please don't leave me like this," he begged, voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know how to be without you. I don't wanna learn how to do that right now. I want you with me. Please."

The anguish etched into every line of his expression was like a vise around Y/N's heart. She longed to close the distance, to soothe away the hurt she caused with her touch, her words. But she couldn't. Not when she was such a mess of half-truths and lies.

"You deserve so much better than what I can give you, Jack," she forced out, barely choking back a sob as she turned away, unable to look at him any longer. "You're such a great guy, I don't deserve you. You're too good. The next girl you find will be so much better than I could ever be, and I hope you see that eventually."

Y/N swallowed hard, mustering the last of her tattered composure. "Good night, Jack."

...

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