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dexteri0us · 5 months ago

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now i’m breathin' like i’m runnin' 'cause you're taking me there; don’t you know you spin me out of control?

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: reader is a freak, mentions of corpses, smut - dom!dexter (but he's soft<3), sir kink, oral (f and m receiving), some slapping, some pussy slapping, bondage, knife play, brush play, wartenberg wheel (all sterilized of course).

summary: you, being an annoying girlfriend, and dexter, being an incredible boyfriend. (be careful though, he might as well just off you one day if you keep asking for it).

w/c: around 7,280

a/n: no pun intended. if i forgot any warnings, let me know, my brain is kinda fried

Dexter hadn’t exactly told you that he was a killer. A murderer, a criminal, or whatever label fit his particular shade of darkness. But he also never denied it when your insinuations crept too close to the truth. He knew that you knew, and that was enough for you. Knowing that he was okay with that was enough for you. Well, until recently.

He’d given you a blurry picture of what he did to his victims. Not because he offered it, but you had a knack for prodding, especially when you sensed he was buttered up just enough. You knew a crime scene or a sample of blood brought a smile to his face, but you didn’t exactly have that kind of power to bring those things to him. You found your own ways to make Dexter smile. Leaving a post-it note on his coffee machine that read “Kill the day”. Buying him a new shirt for work or a romantic dinner. Making him a playlist for his late-night boat rides. Or you’d plan a quiet night with nature docs to stimulate his intellect.

And if you were feeling bold, you’d cook. Well, try to cook. Homemade pizza was your speciality. Your best and only. Dexter never complained, though, always giving you a small, approving nod as he chewed slowly.

Still, he didn’t give you the exact answers either. He might roll his eyes, sigh heavily, or offer a cryptic one-word response, but you could always tell when you’d hit the nail on the head.

“Do you have a special place where you do it? Like a basement or something?”

Roll of his eyes. No.

“Do you ever regret it? Like, afterward?”

No.

“Do you stalk them?”

Side eye. Yes.

“Do you talk to them first? Like, try to scare them or mess with their heads:”

...Yes?

You played this game as if it was the most normal thing in the world, without batting an eye. It was fun for you until you headed in an unpleasant direction of the questions.

“Does it get messy? What do you use to clean up? What about their clothes? Do you get them naked before getting rid of the body?”

Yes.

Oh. “…Before killing them?”

Yes.

The wheels in your head began to turn, your thoughts spiraling into uncharted territory. “Even the women?”

Yes.

Huh. Suddenly, the game wasn’t so fun anymore. You didn’t know how you felt about that. You pictured the men and women you didn’t know, beautiful, vulnerable, dead. It was stupid to feel jealous of corpses, but you couldn’t help it. It clawed at you.

For a while, you stopped asking questions. Not because you didn’t want to know, but because you were too distracted by the answers you’d already gotten. And maybe you were afraid of what else you’d uncover.

If you were jealous of them before, now that jealousy skyrocketed into different dimensions.

You were in the middle of baking banana bread, working the batter longer than necessary. It was your fourth loaf this week, and you’d already had to give a few away to Deb and Joey, because you weren’t capable of eating all of it.

You were happy that Deb and Joey appreciated it because Dexter didn’t even like banana bread that much. He ate it because you made it. Which was sweet. But still, he seemed to enjoy talking to naked strangers more than eating your baked goods.

What the fuck is his problem?

“Another banana bread?” Dexter’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “You know, it’s gonna lose its sweetness if you keep mixing all the frustration into it.”

Normally, you’d snort at the deadpan delivery of his stupid joke, but now was really not the time to remind you of the mood you were trying to suppress.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked is all seriousness now, coming over to you and leaning one hip against the counter. You didn’t look at him, keeping your focus on the batter. “Okay, you’re not. What can I do?” he asked, waiting patiently for you to open up.

“Nothing.”

He stood there and you felt his eyes on you, probably trying to read you. You still didn’t acknowledge him, but his presence pressed against you and it was starting to make you uncomfortable. He knew better than to push; it would only make you more frustrated, but he wasn’t one to just walk away either. Besides, he knew you’d crack eventually. And you did, dropping the spatula into the bowl and turning to face him.

“Why don’t you like my banana bread?”

He squinted his eyes, trying to decide if you were joking or not.

“I like your banana bread. Just… an appropriate amount. Not five loaves in a week.”

“Four,” you corrected.

“Five,” he countered, not missing a beat. “You made two yesterday, one on Monday and one on Wednesday.”

Shit, he was right. But could he blame you? He was driving you nuts. Well, you were driving yourself nuts, but it was because of him!

“Hey, I know my brain is limited, but is that really what’s bothering you? Will you help me out, or should I try to piece it together on my own?” he said softly.

He always did that, giving you space but never giving up on saving you from the sea of worrisome thoughts, never ignoring your closed off behavior. He’d always told you that you were like a puzzle to him. And he claimed he liked puzzles.

But you didn’t want to be a puzzle this time. You knew keeping him guessing wouldn't be healthy, so you spilled it out. You told him about your stupid insecurity and the stupid jealousy, the anger and frustration that boiled over when he told you about how he stripped his victims naked. And he couldn’t have had a more baffled expression on his face

For the first time, he told you a little bit about his hobby without you having to pull it from him. He reassured you that there was no sexual motivation behind it whatsoever. None. That the people he killed were disgusting and vile human beings who didn’t deserve even the faintest semblance of intimacy. Well, not that kind of intimacy. They deserved nothing but to die.

“I promise,” he said as he brushed his thumb over your cheek, “the only body I admire is yours. It’s an unhealthy obsession, really. Unhealthier than the other one.”

And with that, he finally made you laugh and roll your eyes at him. You gave him a playful shove, making him smile as you turned back to your batter. He moved closer one more time, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, then your cheek. As he stepped back, he gave your triceps a playful pinch, leaving you to your baking.

You didn’t have a reason not to trust him. Even though he held onto a big secret, he never outright lied. He just never told you the whole truth, and you respected that. He’d told you it was better this way, something about plausible deniability. And yes, you made it a little hard for him, but what can you say, you were nosy.

Later that night, he went out of his way to worship your body, to prove that you were truly his number one obsession. He looked you in the eye as he fucked you, making you see how you made him feel and showing you every ounce of devotion he had for you. When he put his tongue on you, he didn’t stop eating your pussy until you had to push him away.

Afterward, you lay on your stomach while Dexter rested beside you, propped on one elbow, his other hand tracing invisible shapes on your back.

He let you guess what he drew or wrote with his fingers, and you both giggled when you guessed something ridiculous when he drew something completely simple. It was your favorite kind of peace, lying in his arms, your warm skin against his. You almost couldn’t believe that these same arms were capable of something else.

It wouldn’t be you if you weren’t greedy, though. And sometimes, when your mood was just right, that greed turned you into a bit of a brat.

You were on your way from the farmer’s market, the basket of fresh carrots and strawberries balanced on your lap as Dexter focused on the road, one hand casually resting on the wheel.

You were just telling him how you wanted to have a garden of your own one day, grow your own fruits and veggies, maybe even have a little flock of chickens.

“Can you imagine? You’d have fresh eggs for breakfast every morning, and I could make you a fruit salad to take to work.”

He glanced over, just briefly, before fixing his eyes back on the road. “You’d want me to share that with you?”

You felt a small tug of your heart. It made you reach out to gently tug the short hair behind his ear. He liked that. He’d said it was soothing when you played with his hair, especially around the ears, and you made a mental note to do more of it later tonight.

“Dex, you’re stuck with me. You’ll need to kill me to get rid of me,” you joked and he shot you a look, but you giggled at your own quip.

Truthfully, it broke your heart sometimes, the way he thought so little of himself. Sure, he was confident, sometimes even a little too sure of his skills, and it could momentarily turn him into a smug asshole. But you worried that he’d never feel how loved he actually was. How many people cared about him.

Before you could spiral too far into those thoughts, his phone buzzed. He was being called to a scene, and he initially wanted to drop you off at home, but you convinced him there was no point. It was literally on the way, and you could just wait in the car.

“Alright,” he said as he gathered his things, “half an hour, tops.” You nodded and he stepped out of the car.

You watched him work from the car, though you could barely make him out through the crowd of people that gathered at the scene. Still, you admired how focused and precise he was, the way he was handling the camera and the lifeless body.

It was impossible not to think about how those same hands had touched you, traced every curve and dip of your skin. Fuck, you were sick. He was professionally documenting death for Christ's sake.

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander elsewhere, wondering if he handled them with the same care. So, once you were back on the road, you couldn’t help yourself.

“You know, I thought of a way you could prove your ‘obsession’ with my body.”

He paused, glancing at you with furrowed brow, confused. “I thought we were past that.”

“Well, you know, it does something to a girl, knowing her boyfriend’s hobby involves working with naked bodies.”

“I can’t believe that that’s what bothers you about this whole situation.”

You shrugged, letting the silence hang for a moment.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you have in mind?”

“I want to experience it.”

“'It'. Try to be a little more specific.”

“You know… the setup. Like, a roleplay kinda thing. You’ll be you, and I’ll be your victim. Or like a 'draw me like one of your french girls' kinda situation."

You honestly thought that it was a good idea, but you just proved to him how much little you understood about the whole serial killer thing, which he let you know quite candidly.

Don’t get me wrong, he adored you, but he didn’t have a problem with calling you out on your stupidity and reminding you how close you sometimes got to crossing lines you didn’t fully understand. That’s what made your relationship great.

“First of all, why would you think they are French?" he asked, confused by the movie reference, but you jusrt rolled your eyes. "And second of all, I actually wonder whether it’s you or me who’s sick in the head here,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he went on to tell you that it wasn't a fucking game that you played. He is a serial killer. “I actually like your body intact.”

“But you wouldn’t actually –”

“No.”

“Come on, wouldn’t you like to see me all tied up, immobilized, completely at your mercy?”

His jaw tightened just slightly before he answered. Oh?

“No. End of discussion.”

“Fine,” you groaned with a sigh, sinking back into your seat like a scolded child, your fingers idly tracing the ridges of the basket in your lap.

You wanted to be petty about it but instead, you decided to be on your best behavior. The reason? You’d definitely gotten into his head. You didn’t know if he’d started fantasizing about you like that, or if he was coming to the realization that you might actually need a psychiatric evaluation. You hoped it was the former, so when you caught him lost in thought, his gaze lingering on you as if he were in a trance, you resisted the urge to poke the bear, only sending a sweet smile his way.

The sex had gotten more… intense. Also more frequent, and you had a theory that it correlated with his early returns from his hunts. He never seemed to be satisfied, always came home frustrated with himself and he took it out on you. He’d take you against the nearest surface he could find; the couch, the kitchen counter, even the floor. You thought there wasn’t a single surface in his apartment that wasn’t defiled.

Once, when he’d gotten home before you, he threatened to take you outside in the external corridor where his neighbors could see and hear everything. Well, you wouldn’t mind, but he was a flying-under-the-radar kind of guy.

Either way, you’d struck a chord. And while you still hadn’t gotten exactly what you wanted, you couldn’t deny you enjoyed the way he’d been lately.

You just got out of shower, slipped into your pajamas and plopped onto the couch, turning on some white noise on your phone as you pulled out some notes for your upcoming exam. No, you weren’t capable of studying after you changed into your sleeping attire, but it was better than doing nothing.

Your eyes skimmed mindlessly across the words when you heard the door unlock, revealing Dexter in his khaki henley and cargos. You greeted him with a smile, sending him into kitchen where his take-out was, before turning your head back to your notes.

You didn’t register him moving closer to you, until you felt the nylon of a cuff around your wrist.

“What the fuck?” you murmured and looked at your wrist. It wasn’t your first time he used bondage on you, of course, but this was weird. You tugged instinctively at the chain, but his firm grip on the other buckle didn’t allow you much movement. “Dex, I don’t have time for this now.”

“My victims don’t really get to pick when their time is up.”

You looked at him, the confusion apparent on your face, but then when you locked eyes with him, it started to gradually dawn on you. Your eyes flicked from his face, to his clothes, to the chain around your wrist.

Was this what you thought it was? You didn’t want to celebrate too early.

And just like that, Dexter gave a sharp tug on the chain, pulling you to your feet.

“The first thing that usually happens,” he began, leading you to the bedroom, “is the weight of their tranquilized bodies pulls them to the ground.”

Before you could react, he slammed the door shut behind you and in one swift motion, your back hit the hard wood. Your other wrist was caught and cuffed too, the chain between them yanked taut as he raised your arms above your head, hooking the chain on the hook mounted on the door, leaving you stertched out.

It was too high and the position forced you onto your tiptoes, your whole body arching and making your ass press firmly against the door.

Dexter grabbed your jaw and kissed you aggressively, your teeth clanking against each other and your tongues tangling together, making your mixed saliva drip down your chin.

He looked at you with that signature intensity, eyes hooded and plush lips parted slightly. His hot breath fanned across your chin as he spread the spit over your cheek and jawline, massaging it into your skin.

You admired the way his hair curled at his forehead and around his ears, it gave him this innocent vibe that put him into contrast with those strong features of his face.

Then he kissed you again, this time more softly, snaking his arm into the space between the door and your arched back, pressing himself against you and making you feel the hardness in his cargo pants. His hand slid lower, over the curve of your lower back, slipping beneath your shirt to cup your ass firmly. His fingers kneaded your flesh before grasping the hem of your panties and tugging up, the fabric pressing tightly against your pussy.

The pressure sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, the cloth stimulating your clit as he gave it individual tugs. You whimpered into his mouth, your body writhing against him even though it was almost physically impossible. To amplify the pleasure, Dexter's thigh slid between your legs, the textured fabric of his cargos creating a delicious sensation.

When he was satisfied with the wet spot you created on his pants, he dropped to his knees. He teased you some more, licking along the hem of your panties, placing wet kisses on your thighs and burying his nose against your heat, telling you how good you smell.

“Dex,” you whined. Your cunt screamed for release as well as your strained arms. You wanted nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his hair and grind yourself against his mouth until the dam broke.

He had told you before that his face was made for you to sit on. Once, Deb had jokingly called him a chair, which turned out to be a thought her therapist had passed on to her. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the nights when he made you sit on his cock as he went over his subjects. He blindfolded you each time, naturally.

And from the look on your face, Deb knew instantly where your thoughts had gone, and said that she didn’t need that mental image in her head. You both laughed about it later. Honestly, you two loved sharing your sexcapades with each other.

Dexter found out through Quinn, because of course Deb would share, especially if you gave her inspiration. And he couldn't resist taking a jab at Dexter.

“I didn’t know you were such an animal, Dex,” Joey had told him with that smug grin of his.

Dex had given you an earful about how you had kind of compromised his privacy. It was only a matter of time until Masuka learned about this, and he was already exasperating. Dexter was afraid Masuka would take it as a shared hobby, something they could finally, really talk about with passion, like two guys. Ugh, the thought alone made him uncomfortable already.

But you'd told him that Deb was your best friend, and that girlfriends just had to talk about this stuff.

“It’s like therapy.”

“Don’t you say that about sex too?”

“Depends on the circumstances. Besides, it’s good for tips. You should thank her. If you thought making me squirt was all your talent, think again.”

After that, you made a deal not to bring up your sex club discussions in front of Dexter, and Deb made Quinn promise he wouldn’t say a word in front of Vince.

However, you did joke about the chair thing often, because he did provide the best seat in the house, whether it was his lap or his face.

But this time, he wasn't giving it up so easily. He wanted to make you earn it, but you couldn’t do anything except to wait.

When he finally did put his tongue on you, he didn’t take your panties off. He made you cum with them on, licking your clit over your panties, sometimes brushing his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves before sliding to your hole and pushing against the cloth, to the point your underwear became uncomfortable from how soaked it was with your cum.

Then he finally pushed your panties aside, the wet material sticking to your skin. He shuffled closer, his forehead grazing your stomach and his hair tickling your skin as he looked down at you, sliding his fingers through your folds and over your sensitive clit. you begged him to make you cum again, thinking he’d finally eat you out properly, but he just used his fingers.

He stayed on his knees for a while, admiring your shiny pussy and grazing his fingernails over your clit, teasing you, before standing up to his full height and properly fucking you hard with his fingers.

He wrapped his arm around you once again, bracing himself to your side as he started snapping his palm against your clit, two of his fingers sliding in and out of you and filling the room with wet sounds.

When you started cumming again, his other hand, that was resting on your hip reached down and tugged on your panties again, positioning the crotch back between your pussy lips and pulling, wiggling it to create stimulation against your clit.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lower jaw dropping down as he admired your squirming body.

You cried out from the sensation, your head banging against the door and one of your legs bending in the knee as you pressed your thighs together, trying to escape from the overstimulation.

You were so consumed by coming down from your high that you didn’t expect Dexter to unhitch the chain from the hook on the door, making you lose your balance. You would have surely fallen to the ground if Dexter hadn’t been there, but he was ready to catch you.

He shifted your body, picking you up bridal style. You thought that he’d lay you down onto the bed and fuck you there, but instead, he opened the door and headed out of the room. And as you rested in the comfort of his strong arms, your head against his shoulder, you noticed that his shirt smelt differently. It wasn’t the usual sweat and blood, or different human remains. It was a laundry detergent, meaning he truly did this just for you. It was your night.

He carried you through the living room, making his way toward his desk where he sat you down.

Unlike every other day, the computer was gone, as well as the photo of him and Deb. In fact, it was completely cleared out.

How have you not noticed that?

He stood between your thighs, working the cuffs to separate them from each other before pulling your sleep shirt over your head, leaving you exposed to him. His hand reached out, pinching your nipple as he kissed you, sharing the taste of your pussy with you. He pressed himself against you, the button of his cargos grazing your clit and making you moan. You were still sensitive, but you loved every second of it.

He leaned into you, forcing you to lie down, the coldness of the desk hitting your back and spreading goosebumps over your skin. He positioned you to his liking, moving you up so your feet rested on the top of the desk.

“I make sure they can’t escape,” he continued his description of the way he’d done things, pulling out another set of cuffs from the desk drawer and clasping each around your ankles before cuffing them to your wrist cuffs. You weren’t unfamiliar with any of this, but then he pulled out two other clasps and attached the ankle cuffs to the D-rings built in the desk.

Were those always there?

Now, you were all spread out for him, your nipples stiff for him to feed on, your legs bent in the knees and putting the outline of your cunt under your ruined panties on full display. You were capable of minimal movement with your ankles attached to the desk and your hands dependent on the movement of your legs. You weren’t going anywhere. Not that you wanted to.

“Are you good?” he asked, making sure he wasn’t doing anything you weren’t up to.

“Yes.”

“What’s your safe word?”

“Magazine.”

You watched as Dexter moved around the apartment, disappearing from your sight to retrieve a black, flat bag. When he returned to the kitchen counter, he seemed to unroll the bag, his back to you. You had to crane your neck to see, the vertebrae in your neck squishing together as you tried to get a glimpse of what lay inside. Something steely caught the light as he pulled it out. Then Dexter turned around, a pointed tool spinning under the force of his index finger. A Wartenberg wheel.

Your throat tightened, chills coursing down your spine as your body shifted in anticipation. Nothing could have prepared you for the next set of events. You were sure the next time you and Deb swapped stories, she would be the one taking notes.

Dexter tortured the fuck out of you.

He started with the pinwheel, rolling it all over your body. The pins were sharp enough to prickle your skin as they trailed along your arms, but it didn’t hurt. At first, it was even nice, relaxing almost. Then he moved to your chest, the wheel gliding from the hollow of your neck, down between your breasts and over you stomach.

As it neared the waistband of your soaked panties, you thought he’d continue further down and toward your aching pussy. But just as it reached below your navel, the wheel disappeared, making you huff.

That was your mistake. You’d worked yourself up by stupidly thinking that he’d go there right away. Foolish.

“I cut them up.”

You flinched at the sudden sound, startled, but he didn’t comment. The pinwheel resumed its path, drawing invisible lines across your wrists, elbows, shoulders, mimicking incisions. You closed your eyes, letting your imagination take over.

“Into evenly cut pieces,” he added.

Now the tool traveled lower, grazing your legs, running from your ankle to your bent knee, then up the sensitive skin of inner thigh. You trembled under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

You reveled in the thought of this man, this predator, choosing to worship you instead of discarding you. Who knows, maybe one day, he would snap. But the possibility only made your body quake more.

He noticed, stopping the wheel just where your thigh met your hip. “Are you scared?”

“No.” you said, though your voice betrayed you, shaking on the single syllable.

But you really weren’t. If you were truly scared, you wouldn’t have misbehaved just now.

Before you could think about what would happen next, his hand struck, his palm landing sharply against your clothed pussy, and it was just then that you noticed he had put on his gloves, the leather making the sting more searing. You gasped, your hips jerking from the impact.

“If you thought you’d get a free pass, you were sorely mistaken.” He leaned over you, his hand sliding from your core to your thigh, squeezing the flesh. “Let’s try again. Are you scared?”

“No, sir.”

Other times, if you failed to call him sir right away, you’d get a warning. Maybe a slap to your thigh, or a firm squeeze of your neck. Never your pussy. Not at first.

“Such a brave girl.” This time, he ran the pinwheel slowly from your waist toward your chest. He altered its course, pressing it against your breast, applying more pressure as he reached your nipple, the sharp points dragging over it. “See? They could never measure up to you.”

Dexter turned the wheel again, guiding it slowly down your heaving stomach. You swore one of the metallic points grazed the bow on your panties, but he halted the motion, the wheel twisting 90 degrees to trace the hem of your underwear instead. Your hips tilted upwards instinctively, a desperate attempt to bring your pussy closer to his hand, but it was useless.

He continued to tease you, switching from one thigh to another, running it so close to your center, but never quite touching it. You kept waiting for that moment, but it never came.

“This is getting boring. I’ll go get something else,” he said nonchalantly, making his way toward the counter. Fucker.

“Wait,” you blurted without thinking. “I mean, please, sir…”

His footsteps paused, then drew closer again, stopping beside your head and smiling down at you.

“Did you want something?”

“Can you please touch my pussy?”

“Of course,” he said, a mocking lilt in his voice. “I just have to make my hands free,” he replied, taking a step toward the counter again, but you were quick to react.

“No!” You immediately regretted your words as he returned to the same spot. Dexter’s hand tilted your head, his gloved fingers squeezing your cheeks. The leather was firm and hot against your face. “I’m sorry, sir,” you added quickly, your voice muffled under his grip.

He leaned in closer. “You’d better realize your place, sweetheart. Or I’ll make sure this won’t be a fun experience.”

You apologized again, not forgetting the title, and he released your face, giving you a nod.

“Can you please touch my pussy with… that?”

Fuck your pride, right?

He raised his hand in front of his face, inspecting the pinwheel as though it had just appeared in his hand.

“Oh, this?” he said, feigning ignorance, clearly mocking you. “You want me to–” He moved the tool lazily through the air above your body, stopping just over your lower half “Touch you here?”

With a swift motion, the wheel skimmed between your legs, the pins grazing your panties. You didn’t even have the time to register it before he removed it again, but the electrifying sensation that came and went made you moan as your clit pulsed with excitement.

“Yes, please.”

His nose brushed against yours as he leaned over again, and you thought he was going to kiss you. Instead, he mocked you again, his voice dripping with condescension as he cupped your chin. “Aw, you’re such a dirty girl, huh?”

His head dropped, his hair tickling your cheek as he glanced downward, watching his hand between your thighs. He made another contact with your pussy, slowly this time, focused. A mix of relief and hunger flooded you as he ran it up and down your wet underwear, the prickling sensation shooting through your nerves. “You want me to fuck you with it too? Are you that sick, hm?”

When you didn’t respond, he stopped and his head snapped towards you. His gloved hand left your face, only to land a slap across your cheek. The sting spread across your face, your skin burning under the impact.

“I didn’t fucking hear you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

What can you say? Slapping didn’t really work on you. He knew that, it’s the reason he did it. So he could do it again.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He slapped you again, this time harder, the leather stinging even more than his bare hand.

“If that’s what you wanted, sir, I’d take it.” You managed to keep your voice steady despite the heat in your cheek.

His lips curved into a smile. He stood up, walking towards the counter. “Jesus Christ,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re lucky you found me. Anyone else would’ve committed your ass to a psychiatric hospital.”

“Fate,” you commented, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t punish you. Meaning you made him smile.

Dexter returned with a knife, and he dragged it across the chains, the clinking sound of metal scraping against metal echoing in the room.

He focused on your pussy now, rubbing the flat side of the knife against your clit, occasionally tapping it against you, and you half-expected he might nick the skin of your thighs if he wasn’t careful.

Then, Dexter flipped the knife again, teasing you with its blunt edge before bringing it to your breasts. He drew circles around your nipples with the tip of the knife, sharper than the pinwheel.

His body moved again, positioning himself behind you. His face, upside down, loomed above, gently cupping the underside of your chin, tilting your head back. The leather of his gloves gave you an unnerving sensation as his fingers held you in place. You felt the cold steel of the knife at your throat, running from one carotid to the other.

“Sometimes I cut their throats. But it’s not really my favorite style,” he said, the blade left your neck, drifting downward until it hovered over your left breast, settling directly above your wildly beating heart. He pressed the tip of the knife just enough for your skin to dip under its force. He could do anything to you. He could kill you right then and there.

“I love you,” you confessed for what felt like umpteenth time.

Dexter smiled, leaning down and placing a tender kiss on your forehead, all while controlling the force he still had on the knife.

He straightened, moving to your side again. His gloved fingers trailed over your stomach as he slid the knife under the hem of your underwear. The sharp edge pressed upwards, and you felt the fabric give way with a faint snick as the first small tear formed.

He moved the blade lower, repeating the motion. Each cut widened the tear, revealing the top of your clit. He shredded the panties until they were completely off, leaving you slickness glistening in the dim light and dripping onto the table beneath you.

Dexter removed his gloves and slid his fingers between your pussy lips, coating them in your wetness, before he brought them to his mouth. He just made you cum with his mouth, surely he wouldn’t–

But before you could finish your thought, he bent down over your torso and in a millisecond, his head was between your thighs. Mouth wide open, his tongue resting on his chin as he pressed it flat against your clit, and his upper lip collecting your juices straight from the source.

It was a single, devastating taste, but it was enough to make your legs tremble, the chains stopping you from closing them.

“Shit, I might as well eat you out again.”

Yeah, he might. Without anything in the way this time.

It was just stroking your ego. It really made you proud, how his tongue was addicted to your pussy.

He brought the final tool of the night – a small brush that looked like it belonged in a makeup kit. It also looked like the softest instrumentof the night, but turned out to be the most torturing one.

The bristles touched your clit with featherlight strokes, maddeningly soft. The individual bristles tickled and stimulated every single nerve ending, sending vibrations through your entire body.

You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily. Dexter worked the brush in slow, torturous circles, teasing your clit to the brink. Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he stuffed two fingers inside your hole, wiggling them inside to massage the spot that made your eyes roll back in your head.

The synergy was overwhelming. Your body writhed against the chains, chasing the orgasm building rapidly within you. But just as the climax was about to crash over you, he stopped. His fingers withdrew and the brush disappeared, your back arching in desperation as you felt the pleasure simmer out, leaving your abdomen hollow and aching from the loss.

“Please, sir, can I come?”

“Of course you can,” he said in a soft voice.

But he didn’t let you. He edged you again and again, pushing you to the brink, only to yank you back. He was playing with you, letting you know that your body wasn’t yours tonight. It was under his control. You were his.

The brush was drenched in your juices at this point, ruined just like your panties and your throbbing cunt. A few tears slipped from your eyes, mixing with the sweat slicking your skin. So you begged, desperate for the release. You begged until he finally finger-fucked, plunging his fingers into you and pumping them relentlessly. His thumb rubbed your puffy clit, sending you spiraling into an earth-shattering orgasm.

You came hard, your juices spilling over his hand and splattering onto his watch. He only pulled his fingers out to spank your clit, amplifying the intensity of your orgasm. At one point, he reached for the discarded glove, fisting it and placing harsh smacks against your sore pussy. You screamed, and after he landed his last smack, feeling you were nearing another orgasm, he switched the rough sensation of the leather for the softness of his tongue, firmly pressing against you and shaking his head from side to side, letting you cum into you his mouth.

You could barely take it and you were scared he might pull out a vibrator, because he liked to do that when you came twice in the span of two minutes. But he didn’t, removing his glistening face from your center and standing up. You just laid there, your body a racing circuit for the endorphins and oxytocin at this point.

Dexter gave you only a few second before he undid the chains, the clinking of metal barely audible over the pounding in your ears. He didn’t let you move, though, keeping you sprawled on table as he shifted your body higher until your head hung off the edge.

He stood in front of your face, and you knew what he wanted. You reached for the button of his cargo pants, undoing them and pulling them down along with his underwear. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy. Gorgeous. You didn’t waste a moment, leaning forward, licking the bead of precum from his tip before taking him into your mouth.

Dexter groaned, the sound vibrating through you. Soon, he took over, thrusting into your throat as he held you down. One hand pressed against your neck, feeling the way you swallowed his cock, while the other pinched and tugged at your nipples.

You gagged around him, bubbles forming in the corners of your mouth as you struggled to keep up. This time, your eyes outright stung from the tears that were forcing their way out, but you didn’t stop. It wasn’t until you coughed, your throat tightening involuntarily and squeezing around him, that he pulled out with a groan.

You gasped for air, your chest heaving, but he didn’t give you long to recover. His hand gripped your neck and yanked you up, forcing you into a kneeling position on the table. You just sat there, dazed, your hands resting in your lap like the picture of innocence. Messy hair, glassy eyes, and swollen lips.

Dexter kissed them, shoving his tongue into your mouth, tasting himself and making you taste yourself again. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin, adding to the long list of stimuli.

You dared to sneak your hand away from your lap, circling your fingers around his cock and stroking him slowly. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head and he moaned into your mouth before his head fell back. You leaned forward, your lips brushing against Dexter’s neck, sucking on his pulse point and grazing it with your teeth.

You moved your hand up and down, and Dexter’s moans and gasps grew louder and more frantic. You quickened your pace, his hips jerking into your hand as he chased his own orgasm. You twisted your hand, and he came with a guttural groan. His cum spilled onto your stomach, warm and sticky, and his hand shot out to grip the hair at the back of your neck, yanking you into another kiss as he came down from his high.

When his breathing slowed, you awkwardly shifted your legs over the edge of the table, letting them dangle as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You pulled him close, burying your face in his chest, a content sigh escaping you as you enjoyed the warmth, the softness of his body.

He cupped your head, his thumb brushing small crescents against your scalp with returned tenderness as he let out a soft sigh of his own, his chest rising and falling against you.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t pull away to look at him, your body too spent to do much more than to snuggle deeper into his chest and squeeze his torso.

“Better than,” you mumbled.

“I know this wasn’t what you wanted,” he said.

That made you lift your head. You looked at him, your brows drawing together in confusion.

“But this,” he gestured to the table, his brow raising, “is the only table I want to see you on. The only restraints I ever want to see on you. And I need you to get it through that thick skull of yours that there’s nothing sexy about what I do.”

“In my dreams there is,” you said, your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“YN,” he warned.

“I know,” you relented with a roll of your eyes, his brows raising, daring you to be a brat in this moment. “For the record, it was better than what I wanted.”

You smiled and he kissed you again, silencing any further rebellion. When you shivered against him, he pulled back and cleaned you up before ordering you to throw on a shirt.

“Yes, sir,” you replied cheekily, adding a playful salute for good measure.

“I will spank your ass if you don’t get it in the shower in ten seconds,” he said, pulling his own pants up. Would that be so bad? You bit your lip to keep from grinning and headed into the bathroom, while he cleaned the table.

By the time you switched places, you felt refreshed, fucked out just right as every muscle in your body ached with a sweet kind of soreness. You heated up his dinner while making yourself a quick sandwich. Just as you set his plate down, he walked out of the bathroom. You grabbed your sandwich and set down, with Dexter soon joining you.

When you finished your meals, the two of you migrated to the couch. He rested his head on your stomach, while you draped your legs over his shoulders.

Your fingers played with the freshly washed hair, soft and silky from the shampoo. You twirled the strands around your fingers lazily, and his quiet purrs filled the room as you trailed your fingertips along the curve of his ears, scraping gently at the sensitive spots behind them. That sound, half sigh, half growl, might’ve been your favorite thing in the world.

You bent down, the movement uncomfortable and your muscles protesting as you pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. But the way it scrunched affectionately under your touch made the discomfort worth it.

#dexter morgan x reader #dexter morgan smut #dexter #dexter fandom #dexter fanfiction #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fanfiction #dexter morgan fluff #dexter morgan oneshot #dexter morgan x f!reader #dexter x reader #dexter morgan imagine #dexter smut #dexter morgan x female reader #dexter morgan x female!reader #dexter morgan x you

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withlovemark · 24 days ago

Text

“drivers license”

pairing: jaehyun x reader | genre: angst | words: 11k+

now listening to -> i got my drivers license last week just like we always talked about.

synopsis -> a whirlwind romance with jung jaehyun.

warnings -> minor car crash, cheating, a break-up, might leave behind emotional damage, jaehyun is a coward, +18, crude language, mention of: frat parties, alcohol, make outs, smut! not descriptive but contains: dry humping, jaehyun cumming in his pants, implied oral (f), implied sex.

an -> i cannot believe the day has come where i finally finished this. it’s so embarrassing to say but this took me five years (2021-2025) and it’s not even the proudest thing i’ve written. every time i opened the google doc for this it was like my brain would forget every word in the dictionary. writers block hitting every god damn time. the reason? this entire series started with a member that is no longer part of nct and the issue around him, at the time, hurt me a lot and took me a while to move on from. but hey! time heals. this is here. it’s done! and i love writing for nct again! have fun reading! with love, c.

͙͘͡★

“hey uhh, it’s me, umm by me i mean its y/n by the way, i-well,” you let out a nervous chuckle, “i know this is weird, like really weird. especially since we’re y’know…broken up and all but uhm i just wanted to tell you that i uh…” your voice wavers, you cough once, clear your throat, then barrel forward, rushing through the words as if that’ll make it hurt less, “...finally got my driver’s license,” you finished clumsily.

silence fills the space for a beat too long.

‘this is stupid. what the hell am i doing,’ you think to yourself, realization slowly creeping in.

“-that’s pretty much it, i just,” you sigh, “wanted to tell you...you probably don’t care but yeah um i hope you’re doing well—”

beep.

the voicemail machine rings in your ear, letting you know that you’ve exceeded the amount of time given. you stare at your phone like it personally betrayed you. then it hits you. full force. your eyes widen, jaw dropping.

‘no, no, NO, no fucking way you just called your ex…you absolute dumbass,’ the inner voice in your head ridicules.

“UGHH!” you swore in the comfort of your car, head slamming against the steering wheel as you punched the air around you. if anyone were to see this scene unfold, they would think you were absolutely, batshit crazy.

god, you wished you were. it would be easier to explain.

but no, this was just a side effect of the broken-hearted.

after a while of just wallowing in your pity, you finally accept the fact that you were pathetic. throwing your phone into your bag, you chose the radio over the aux cord, not wanting to see the little devil machine that caused you your entire pride.

“hi, this is olivia rodrigo and you are now listening to my debut single, drivers license.”

‘olivia who?’ you start driving, wondering who the new artist was that was playing in the station you randomly tuned into.

the song starts and you barely register the lyrics until they start pulling on you. you can't help but feel that she had access to your inner thoughts and wrote this song using your heart and soul and diary.

you sit there, frozen behind the wheel, eyes on the road but barely seeing it. your grip on the steering wheel tightens. each lyric landing like a punch to the gut. images flashing behind your eyes of the one and only — jung jaehyun.

the man of the hour.

your first thought in the morning and the one that haunts you at night. you tried to forget. you tried to let go. but how could you, when he gave you so much to hold on to?

the first meeting.

“ouch!” you yelped, instinctively clutching the top of your head where a basketball had just collided…hard.

you turn around, ready to blow up on the person that obviously sucked at basketball.

in what world was the net your head???

but then your eyes locked with his and just like that, every insult evaporated from your mouth — the school’s number one golden boy. star player. campus crush. walking daydream.

and currently jogging towards you, “sorry,” he smiles sheepishly, ears burning red as he retrieves the basketball that landed a few inches away from you.

you blinked once, twice, “uhh, its um… its okay,” you managed to stammer, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your pride that had scattered alongside the ball.

you never really cared for social norms or popularity or any of that status quo bullshit. social ladders were just invisible ropes to nowhere in your mind. but you still knew that jaehyun was way up there, all shining spotlight and untouchable perfection, while you… weren’t even on the pyramid.

and yet, here he was. looking at you.

‘why is he still looking at me?’

before you could think further, jaehyun stepped a little closer, his brows pulling together in concern. and then, as if time itself slowed down, he reached out and cupped the side of your head, your brain short-circuiting.

‘no way. no way jung jaehyun is touching my face right now. this isn’t real. i’m dreaming. i’ve fallen unconscious from the ball and i am hallucinating.’

you felt the weight of a dozen eyes on you, murmurs, a couple of gasps. even his teammates had paused to see what their mvp was doing hovering over some nobody with the gentleness of a disney prince.

your panic response kicked in – you slapped his hand away, wanting to get rid of the attention that was suddenly on you though this action did the exact opposite, everyone now curious as to who you are.

“wh-what are you doing?” you demanded, voice way too high-pitched to be threatening. every curious eye zooming in on you like vultures to a fresh kill. everyone thinking the same thing: who were you to slap the golden boy’s hand?

jaehyun blinked at your reaction, then rubbed the back of his neck, completely unbothered by your swat, “i was just checking to see if you were hurt,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world to cradle strangers’ heads in public.

“oh uh it's fine!, it doesn’t hurt at all!! no bumps here,” you chirped, hands going straight to your head, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips as he eyes you suspiciously, not quite convinced with your statement.

“see!” you continue, pointing at the top of your head as you bow, earning a laugh from the boy in front of you. you can’t help but look back at him, his deep laughter ringing in your ears. you notice the way his dimples came out to play.

“okay, if you say so,” jaehyun said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “but a little tip…”

“huh?” you were still trying to recover from the dimple attack.

“you probably shouldn’t stand right behind a basketball hoop. especially when people are playing,” he teased, his grin widening like he knew exactly what he was doing to your poor nervous system.

your face burned, “right,” you muttered, wishing the earth would open and swallow you whole.

then he winked. actually winked. before he turned around, casually spinning the ball in his hand as he jogged back to his teammates while you watched him go, still frozen in place, still trying to compute what the hell just happened.

the first car ride.

the rain poured mercilessly, cold needles stabbing through your clothes as you power-walked down the sidewalk, your backpack clumsily perched atop your head in a hopeless attempt to shield yourself.

just your luck. the one day you forgot your umbrella was the day mother nature decided to go full on melodrama.

through the wall of rain, a car pulled up beside you, the hum of the engine barely audible over the storm. then a voice called out, “hey! do you need a ride!?”

you try to peek at the person inside, droplets of rain making your eyes flicker yet you see him in all his glory. you stared for a second too long, internally questioning every life decision that led to this exact moment.

‘now why in the world is he offering me a ride’

you hesitated. the rain was unrelenting, soaking through your hoodie and numbing your fingers, but getting into a car with someone you barely knew, even if he was the school’s walking dream, was a gamble.

sure, he might be the most popular guy in school but the only thing you knew about him was his name and his basketball jersey number, which was 14 by the way.

“you’re not going to kidnap me and then murder me to sell my organs on the black market, right!?” you ask, questioning his motives.

“huh??” the boy yells back.

‘i said!!...” you state your previous statement for the second time, battling with the sound of the loud rain hitting the pavement.

jaehyun blinked. and then…he laughed. a real, full laugh that melted a little of your anxiety.

“well, that’s for you to decide!” he shot back, boyish and harmless, dimples threatening to make you forget all your common sense.

it seems as if the rain won't stop any time soon. so you weigh out your options. possibly die in a handsome stranger's car or walk home and also possibly die in the cold rain? which one sounds like a more peaceful way to go?

fuck it.

you yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat, shivering as the heater hit your skin like a hug from the sun. the door shut, sealing you in with warmth and the faint smell of clean laundry and something citrusy. you knew right then that you made the correct choice.

jaehyun quickly grabs his backpack from the backseat, taking out a grey hoodie. “here, you should change before you get sick,” he offers.

you raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, “you know if you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked,” you teased, your playful nature coming out to mask the awkwardness that is you sitting on the passenger's seat of the school’s pride.

he let out a mock grunt, rolling his eyes with a smile as he turned to look out the rain-covered window, “shut up.”

“don’t peek, okay!” you chuckled, noticing the way his ears had turned to a slight shade of pink.

briskly changing into the hoodie that was way too big for you, you turn to the boy at the driver’s seat who’s still keeping himself busy, probably betting which raindrop racing to roll down his car window would win.

“i’m done,” you finally said after admiring him. he turns to you, giving you a soft smile, “the hoodie suits you.”

“thanks for letting me borrow it,” you grinned, matching his reflection.

“i’m jaehyun by the way,” he introduced himself, reaching out his hand.

“i know,” you say casually, realizing how weird it sounded as soon as the words left your lips, “i-i mean! everyone knows the basketball teams mvp!,” you reason as jaehyun nods, completely understanding what you meant.

“uh, im y/n,” you finally say, completing the handshake.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” jaehyun says as he looks at you quizzically.

“what? do i have something on my face??” you gasp, feeling your face for any unwanted substance, your action reminding jaehyun of the person he accidentally threw a basketball at a couple weeks ago.

he smiles after putting two in two together, realizing that you were that same person.

it was a fond memory for him, usually people would worship the ground he walked on but you…you slapped him away. a different reaction from the ones he was used to. ever since that day he hoped to run into you again.

“why are you smiling like that? oh god, is this the part where you admit to killing me??” you gushed, earning a laugh from him.

“are you sure that ball didn’t damage the inside of your brain?” he joked as you sat there registering his words.

“wait..you remember that?” you ask, genuinely confused as to why he would even remember you with all the people that surround him day by day.

“it’s not everyday i hit someone with my ball,” he smirks and you wish the ground would just swallow you whole because that memory is definitely in your top 10 most embarrassing moments and he remembers it.

“to answer your question, no... the ball did not hurt me, i just watch a lot of true crime,” you admit. jaehyun chuckles and you can’t help but join, feeling more at ease with being in his presence.

“and you think i’m really a killer?,” he quips a brow, an amused expression on his features.

‘yeah, your looks are killer’

“with a face like this?” he joked, striking a ridiculous pose, chin tilted up dramatically.

‘exactly’

you let out a giggle, “first of all, don’t ever make that face again, second, it’s always the ones you don’t expect,” you say, talking like a detective. he burst into laughter again, his eyes crinkling, and you realized then and there…you really liked the sound of his laugh. it was easy. real. addicting.

“so y/n… where do i drop you off?” jaehyun shoots you a smile.

“why? so you can know where i live and kill me in the comfort of my own home?” you continue joking around with him.

“you’re unbelievable.” he chuckles as you start directing the way to your apartment.

and as he drove through the rain, one hand on the wheel and the other occasionally tapping the rhythm of the music playing faintly in the background, you looked out the window, only to catch your reflection in the glass, wearing his hoodie, laughing in his car.

you didn’t know it then, but this was the moment everything quietly began.

the proposal.

“remind me again why you’re in college and still don’t have your driver’s license?” the boy asks you.

you looked up from your coffee, eyes narrowing at jaehyun as he sat across from you, chin propped up on one hand, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. the two of you are seated in the campus’ cafe which has quickly become your usual meet up spot. it was halfway between the music room and the laboratories – a perfect place for a medical major and a music major to meet up.

“i don’t need it,” you shrugged, casually stirring your drink with the little wooden stick they gave you, “everything’s within walking distance anyway. and if it’s not, the bus exists.”

he leaned back in his chair, eyebrows lifting in a slow, dramatic arc, “you do realize that you’d save so much more time and money if you had a car, right?”

you sighed, already seeing where this was going. this wasn’t the first time jaehyun had tried to convince you to get behind the wheel, “yeah, but I don’t need it right now,” you shrug.

he shook his head with an exasperated little grin, then set his drink down with a thud and pointed at you, “okay, okay, just imagine this.”

here it comes.

“you finally graduate, top of your class, of course, and you’ve landed the job of your dreams. everyone’s calling you doctor y/n. life is good,” he leaned forward, voice dropping to a mock-serious whisper, “and yet…you still don’t have your own car? that’s kind of lame.”

you let out a dramatic gasp, grabbing your paper straw wrapper and tossing it at him, “first of all, rude. second of all, i will obviously have my license by then!”

“exactly!” he claps, “soooo, wouldn’t it be better if you start practicing now,” he says smirking, knowing that he won this debate.

you crossed your arms, pretending to scowl, “okay, so what do you want me to do about it?”

jaehyun leaned back, acting as though he were pondering the mysteries of the universe before saying, with complete nonchalance, “let me teach you.”

your brow rose immediately, suspicious, “and what do you want in return?”

he sipped his coffee, his expression unreadable, then he smiled, “nothing, i just want more time with you,”

“with me??” you ask in disbelief.

the boy shrugs his shoulders, “yeah, i like hanging out with you.”

your heart thudded, your breath caught in your throat before you quickly masked it with a sip of your drink.

after a few seconds of silence, which jaehyun could argue felt like forever, you finally agreed, “so, what’s the first lesson?”

he lit up, clearly proud of himself, “hmm, how about you just let me drop you off everyday?”

well, now that just did not make sense to you.

you tilted your head, trying to make sense of the logic or lack thereof, “how does that help me learn? that’s literally just you driving me around.”

“visual learning first before i let you behind the wheel,” he responds, “my car is still my baby you know,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and you laugh at the words that slipped by his lips.

and maybe it was stupid. maybe letting jaehyun drive you everywhere was unnecessary. but the way he looked at you, like this tiny, mundane thing mattered just because you mattered, was more than enough for you to agree.

the first lesson.

“brake y/n, step on the brake. brake! brake!! brake!!!,” jaehyun chants like it was a mantra, sending you into panic mode as your brain suddenly couldn’t differentiate which pedal is which.

you shut your eyes instinctively, ready to come into collision with the brick wall that just kept coming closer and closer until the car came to a sudden stop.

for a moment, all you could hear was the hum of the engine and the wild pounding of your heart. your body leaned forward slightly, but something kept your head from slamming into the steering wheel. blinking rapidly, you looked up and saw jaehyun’s arm. his hand had shot out across your seat, pressed firmly against your forehead. his jaw was tight, his breath shallow, but his grip on you had been steady, sure.

“you okay?” he asked after a beat, his voice low and strained.

you took a second to gather yourself before nodding slowly. “yeah, yeah, i think i’m alive.”

jaehyun exhaled and finally pulled his arm back.

“how’d you stop the car, are you like superman or something?” you finally say, breaking the tension in the air.

jaehyun laughs, finally pulling his hand back as he gets cozy in his seat once again, “there’s something called a handbrake, y/n,” he grinned, pointing at the gadget sitting in between the two of you as you let out a silent, “oh.”

the moment dissolved into quiet as you slumped against the seat, defeated, “i told you that driving would be a bad idea!”

jaehyun rolled his eyes but his brows pulled together slightly, and you knew he wasn’t just brushing it off, “y/n… you need to learn how to drive. it’s a basic life skill.”

for the past month, jaehyun has been teaching you how to drive and this past month the only thing you truly learned was that jaehyun was an old soul. apart from basketball, he loved collecting vintage things, loved photography, music, wine, cooking, troy bolton, and you couldn’t help but want to learn more.

“ughhh yeah, yeah i know, you say that all the time,” you replied, glancing at him, “please don’t be mad.”

his expression softened instantly as he turned toward you, “i’m not mad,” he said, ruffling your hair with his usual affection, “just mildly terrified.”

you giggled as he reached for his seatbelt and unbuckled with a sigh. that was your cue. you could finally breathe again as you both clambered out and swapped seats.

the familiar thump of the driver’s side door shutting felt like a reset button, and suddenly the energy between you felt light again, comfortable. you let yourself get cozy in the passenger seat, your favorite seat, as you throw jaehyun your best mischievous grin.

he didn’t look at you. just calmly reached for the gear, put the car in reverse, and smoothly began backing up. one hand rested on the back of your seat, his body turning effortlessly as he scanned the rearview, jawline sharp in profile, lashes thick against the sunlit windshield, his long fingers flexed against the headrest near your shoulder.

you stared unabashedly, “that was so hot. do it again,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

jaehyun paused, casting you a sideways glare, “shut up, i’m driving” he muttered, but the corners of his lips betrayed him, the start of a smile curling upward.

you turned toward the window, hiding the smile blooming on your face. outside, the world passed in soft blurs of sunlight and trees, but inside the car, everything felt still, like something fragile and new had quietly taken root between you.

the first time.

“why don’t you ever deny it?”

your voice is soft, almost lost beneath the hum of the night and the low music playing from jaehyun’s car speakers. the two of you sit in the back of his car, the trunk popped open to reveal the night sky. a shared blanket pools around your waists, open snack bags scattered between your legs, the half-empty bottles of beer glinting faintly under the stars.

“deny what?” jaehyun asks, turning towards you, a bag of chips in hand.

you glance away, suddenly shy, “the other day… when johnny told you to bring your girlfriend to the party, and he meant me, you didn’t correct him.”

the scene has been bothering you for quite some time now. sure, you and jaehyun have been spending a lot of time together and you could understand how from an outside perspective, people could think you were dating.

but you weren’t, you were simply just friends.

jaehyun takes a swig of his alcoholic beverage, hesitating to respond, “d-do you not want to be?”

you blink, “wait, what?”

jaehyun chuckles, relieved that he could blame the alcohol for the blush that was forming on his face. he rests his head against the car’s frame, “you know, for someone who can memorize entire anatomy textbooks, you can be really clueless sometimes.”

you scowl at him, ready to shoot back something sarcastic, until he looks at you.

“i like you, y/n.”

the words land heavy and warm in the middle of your chest.

“y-you like me?” you echo, unsure whether to believe it or hold it at arm’s length.

“yeah,” he smiles, but there’s something vulnerable in it, “i like you.”

there’s a beat of silence, like the universe is holding its breath.

“…since when?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“since the day i first met you,” he confesses, turning away and looking up at the stars.

you turn to him, noticing the grin that was displayed on his face and the blush painting his ears and you couldn’t help yourself, it was like your body had a mind of its own and you were no longer in control.

you feel your hands instinctively rise to his face, gently guiding his head to face you. jaehyun watches your every move, almost mesmerized, eyes flickering down to your lips.

your fingers ghost across his cheek, then brush against his lips and that was all the permission he needed.

he leans in slowly, hand cupping your cheek with such care it makes your chest ache. his lips meet yours, soft, cautious, like he’s been waiting forever. you respond instantly, melting into him, letting the kiss deepen, pulling you both under.

the more you kissed him, the more addictive he got.

he tastes like beer and vanilla chapstick. one kiss turns to two. two turns to something needier, hands exploring, hearts thudding. you wanted more. your hands found themselves slightly pulling at the boy's hair as jaehyun changed the position, throwing you over him so that you could straddle him, knees tucked beside his thighs.

forgetting that you guys were still in the comfort of his car, your head makes contact with the roof, breaking off the kiss, “ow,” you whined, hand going straight to your head, making you and jaehyun burst into laughter, breathless and giddy.

“i really gotta stop accidentally injuring you,” he grins, rubbing the spot on your head with sympathy, before bringing his lips up to soothe the pain with kisses.

“i think your car’s trying to keep us in check,” you smile, soft giggles slipping from your lips.

“or it’s warning me before I lose control,” he says, his lips trailing kisses down your jaw.

you meet his gaze, your voice dropping, “what if i want you to lose control?”

you were challenging him and he’s definitely up for it. jaehyun swallows hard, eyes darkening with something deeper than mischief. he doesn’t say a word, just closes the trunk with one smooth motion and takes your hand, guiding you into the backseat with quiet urgency.

this time you straddle him with ease, his lips immediately on yours as his hand wanders all throughout your body. he licks your bottom lip and you give in, parting your lips open to meet his tongue, feeling him smile through the kiss.

“you’re dangerous,” he murmurs, “you really have no idea what you do to me.”

you breathe against his neck, one hand splaying across his chest to feel the rapid beat of his heart, “i think i do.”

rough hands guide your body down until you’re fully sat upon his hard cock, emphasizing the way he needs you. you rock into him once and he cant help but release a groan of pleasure, “my cock is throbbing for you, baby,” the pet name sends your mind into a haze, rocking into him again and again until you’ve set a pace that mixed your moans with his.

“baby, im gonna cum in my pants,” he grunts, turning you on even more.

“you like me that much, huh?,” you tease, not losing your rhythm, and all he could do was grunt in reply as he lost control, releasing evidence on his sweatpants.

you giggle at the effect you had on him, snapping him out of his daze, “what’s so funny, pretty girl?”

“i haven't even touched you yet,” you tease.

“can you blame me?, i've been thinking about this ever since you got undressed in my car,” he confesses and your eyes almost bulge out of the sockets.

“yeah? what else did you think about?,” you taunt him.

“i’ll show you,” he says before gently placing you down his car seat, as he helps you out of your jeans.

the space is small. the car is cramped. but nothing was going to stop him from fitting his large frame in between your legs.

he places a kiss above your panties. your hips immediately react to his actions. he smirks, “you like me this much, huh?” he teases you with your own words.

“jaehyun, please do something,” you whine.

jaehyun pushes your panties to the side, finally giving you what you both wanted.

the first i love you.

“come on, just trust me,” jaehyun whispers in your ear, the warmth of his breath grazing your skin and sending butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach. his voice is low, teasing, calm in a way that only makes you more curious. and more flustered.

“jae, how long are we going to have to drive for?” you whine again, blindfolded with a handkerchief that still smells like his cologne.

“we’re almost there,” he replies, chuckling at your lack of patience.

“ugh finee,” you sigh, slouching in your chair until the car comes to a stop.

“are we he—?,” before you can finish, his lips press against yours in a kiss that completely pushed out all of your thoughts. you freeze in place, lips softening as you instinctively lean into it, feeling the smile tugging at his mouth before he pulls away.

“that’s how much you wanted me to shut up huh?” you smirk.

“nah,” jaehyun chuckles, shifting gears with a casual ease. you can hear the grin in his voice.

“then what was that for?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing and jaehyun can’t help but chuckle at your expression.

“i just wanted to kiss my girlfriend at a red light, is that a crime?” he teases.

you can’t help the grin that stretches across your face, “nope,” you murmur, “feel free to do it again, whenever.”

this past week of being jaehyun’s official girlfriend has been a dream. you’re not sure how long honeymoon avenue lasts but you did know that you wanted to keep driving down this road as long as jaehyun’s the one sitting in the driver's seat.

the car slows to a stop, and you perk up, “are we he—?”

your question gets cut off by another kiss, this one slower, more lingering, like he just wanted one more moment of you before the surprise.

“you really like interrupting me today,” you whisper, dazed.

“only when I can’t help myself.”

moments later, he’s helping you out of the car, one hand around your back, the other gently clasping yours. you feel the crunch of gravel beneath your feet, the subtle shift in wind telling you that you’re somewhere open, peaceful.

and then he let’s go

“jaehyun?” you ask, the loss of contact making you nervous.

“im here,” he whispers right by your ear, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

“are you ready?” he asks. you nod before he carefully unties the handkerchief, finally allowing you to take in the beautiful view right in front of you.

“oh my god,” you awe in admiration, “did you set this all up yourself?”

in front of you lays a yellow checkered picnic blanket, filled with a bunch of your favorite snacks, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and his guitar seated perfectly on the side. the sky is blue, the birds are chirping, and jaehyun is standing right next to you. you could've sworn you were transported into a fairytale book.

jaehyun rubs the back of his neck, cheeks already pink, “yeah, i know how busy you are and i just wanted you to take a moment to unwind,” he admits, as you turn around facing him, noticing his ears turning that shade of red that you grew to love.

love.

it’s a strong word. but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s the reason for the butterflies in your stomach. your heart swells so fast it feels like it might burst. you reach for his hand and twine your fingers through his, “you’re unreal, you know that?”

you lean in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, grateful kiss. he responds just as gently, thumb grazing your cheek like he’s memorizing how you feel in his arms.

the world around you seems to fade. no ticking clocks, no deadlines, no chaos. just you, him, and the way time stands still when your lips meet.

when you finally break apart, he smiles at you like he’s the luckiest boy alive, “come on, sit. i’ve got one more surprise.”

“oh god. what could top this?,” you smile.

he settles onto the blanket, pulls his guitar into his lap, and glances at you nervously, “i uh… wrote you a song.”

your eyes widen, “you what?”

“i wrote you a song,” he says more confidently this time, grabbing his guitar. you can literally feel your heart thumping out of your chest like they do in those cartoon shows and you wonder if he can hear how loudly it’s beating.

and then he sings.

the words are sweet. honest. every line is a little window into his heart, filled with shy glances, secret hopes, and the quiet moments he never had the courage to tell you about until now.

as soon as he plucked the last chord, there were only three words that could slip past your lips.

“i love you.”

it slips out before you can second-guess it. and for a split second, your heart stops. maybe it’s too soon. maybe you’ve ruined something.

but then jaehyun’s entire face lights up, eyes crinkling, dimple forming, grin stretching from ear to ear.

“i love you too,” he says, like he’s been holding it in for far too long.

you don’t even let him finish before you’re leaning in, pulling him into a kiss that says everything your words can’t.

seven months in heaven.

heaven. that’s what it felt like to be consumed by jung jaehyun. the kind of love that didn’t creep in slowly but crashed over you like a wave, sudden, wild and all-consuming.

month one. you were like two peas in a pod, stuck together at the hip. everywhere you went, he was there. almost like gravity had shifted and you couldn’t help but orbit each other. the whole campus watched the two of you. some in envy, some in awe. but none of it mattered because in your world, it was just you and him.

you clung to him like a koala, constantly reaching for him — his hand, his hoodie, his attention. and he absolutely adored every second of it. adored you.

he picked you up after every class, waiting at the door like he belonged there. he drove you home with one hand on the wheel, the other in yours. played your favorite songs, and teased you when you tried to sing along off-key.

most nights, he stayed over. his skin wrapped around yours like a second layer of warmth. and when he didn’t, you’d fall asleep in one of his shirts, phone resting on your chest after hours of late-night calls. his voice the last thing you heard before drifting off.

month two. you stopped saying me and started saying we.

there was a toothbrush for him, right next to yours, in your apartment. and a matching one in his dorm. you had a growing collection of his hoodies in your closet. he pretended not to notice but his smile gave him away every time you wore one.

you know all of his schedules and he memorized yours without trying. you’ve cancelled plans just to stay in, legs tangled on the couch, sharing dreams like secrets under warm blankets and future plans whispered between kisses.

it started to feel like a forever kind of thing.

month three. you were still coasting down honeymoon avenue, but now it came with the deeper things.

late night vulnerability, childhood stories, the fears he never told anyone else, the ones you didn’t even know you could speak aloud.

you shared each other’s pressure. shared each other’s troubles. you were there when things got too much, becoming his personal safe haven and you, his.

when the world was too loud, too cruel, too overwhelming – you had each other. that was all you both needed.

month four. i love you wasn’t just something you said. it lived in your actions. it was jaehyun massaging your hands after a long day. you memorizing his coffee order down to the way he liked the foam. the way he always buckled your seatbelt for you.

his car playlists was filled with songs you love. there are pieces of you in the compartment box, a lipgloss, a scrunchie, a tiny pouch filled with your basic essentials.

your fridge was filled with his favorite snacks, his favorite beer. love letters on sticky notes he would leave behind tuck in between the magnets.

and on quiet nights, you fell asleep on his lap as he traced your face with his fingertips like he was trying to memorize you forever. he looked at you like you were a poem he never wanted to stop reading.

and one night he whispered in your ear, “it’s you and me forever, baby.”

and you believed him.

month five. things got a little quieter. not in a bad way. just…settled.

less adrenaline and more comfort. routine settled in but you liked it. you liked knowing he’d be there. you liked how he could tell when you were anxious just by your breathing.

he’d squeeze your thigh gently under the table during group dinners just to comfort you.

you’d look at him and feel like you were home. he was home.

month six. fights began, but they were soft.

little misunderstandings. jealousy here and there. moments where your insecurities brushed up against his.

but every argument ended the same way. his forehead against yours, apologies and i love you’s slipping out between sighs. he’d kiss your temple like he was sealing a wound and you’d forgive him. of course you would.

and besides, his red flags weren’t red. they were beige. soft, muted, easy to overlook in the warmth of everything else.

month seven. you got busy. he got anxious. texts were left on read a little longer. calls ended faster.

but when you were together, it still felt like heaven. his touch still sets you alight. your laugh still made him smile like it was the first time he’d heard it.

he’d still looked at you like you were everything.

and that was enough. wasn’t it?

the first real crack.

“babe, i think we’re lost,” you say, your voice gentle but laced with nervous laughter, trying to keep the mood light.

your eyes flick toward jaehyun, who’s gripping the steering wheel tighter than before, taking yet another left at a stop sign that looks hauntingly familiar.

the sun was already beginning to set, washing the sky with orange and purple hues, but instead of basking in its beauty, the two of you were trapped in an unfamiliar neighborhood, google maps stubbornly rerouting with every turn.

you peek at him from the passenger seat, watching the way his jaw tightens.

“would it kill you to give the right directions for once?” he mutters, not even looking at you.

the sentence lands heavier than it should. it isn’t just about directions. you know that. and maybe he does too.

your smile fades as you blink at him. “sorry…i thought i was.”

he exhales through his nose, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “you always think you’re right, even when you’re not.”

and there it is. not a yell. not a fight. but something colder. detached. dismissive.

it’s the way he says always like it’s not just this moment but a flaw in your character. something he’s been cataloging along the way.

it’s silent. the kind of silence that doesn’t feel peaceful. the kind that buzzes in your ears and makes your chest feel too tight. you look out the window, trying to calm your breathing, trying not to let the sting behind your eyes turn into tears.

you’ve had fights, sure. arguments over little things, forgotten plans, mixed signals, late replies. but he’s never spoken to you like that before. never made you feel small.

you’ve seen jaehyun tired. you’ve seen him frustrated. but not like this. not with this edge. and for the first time since the two of you got together, you realize that love doesn’t shield you from moments like these. that even someone who sings you songs and holds you gently through the night can sound distant and cold.

eventually, he pulls over and cuts the engine. the car humming in the silence.

“baby,” he calls out, softer now, quieter. you don’t answer. just stare out the window.

he leans back against the headrest, rubbing his hands over his face, “i didn’t mean that,” he murmurs, voice heavy with regret.

still, you don’t respond. because maybe he didn’t mean it but he still said it and part of you wonders what else he’s thought and never voiced.

he sighs, “i’m sorry...i just, i’ve had a long week, and i wanted today to go perfectly and now we’re lost and running late and…” he trails off, frustration melting into guilt.

“you snapped at me,” you say finally, still not looking at him, “and i didn’t deserve that.”

“no, you didn’t,” he agrees. “i was out of line.”

you finally turn to face him and he looks… regretful. like he wants to rewind time. like he’s already punishing himself.

“i love you,” he adds, almost like a plea.

you nod slowly, your voice quiet. “i love you too, but don’t talk to me like that again.”

“i won’t,” he promises.

and you believe him. you always do.

but something unspoken lingers in the car after that. a sliver of tension that stays with you. because no matter how many i love you’s follow, you don’t forget the first time someone makes you feel like you’re too much.

jaehyun reaches across the console and gently takes your hand. you let him. and the car keeps driving, this time in silence, but with your fingers laced together like a quiet truce.

it’s the first real crack.

but sometimes, the cracks let everything else in.

the blonde.

frat parties were never your scene. sticky floors, booming bass, red solo cups, and bodies pressed too close together, it all felt too loud, too overwhelming. you haven’t been in one in a while but since your boyfriend was one of the frat’s favorite golden boys and the fact he practically begged you to come to the one tonight, here you were, weaving your way through the crowd in one of his oversized hoodies, searching for the only reason you even showed up.

you spot him before he sees you, standing dead center in the living room, drink in hand, laughing at something the girl in front of him said. giving her the dimpled smile you thought was only reserved for you.

she’s tall. blonde. pretty, in that effortless, dangerous way. the kind of girl you never learned how to be.

and her hand is on his arm. too familiar. too comfortable. she laughs again, tilting her head back, fingers tracing his bicep like it belongs to her. like she’s done it before. like she knows he won’t stop her.

he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t pull away. just smiles, lazy and amused as she leans in closer, lips brushing his ear as she whispers something that makes him laugh again.

your stomach churns.

it’s irrational, maybe. but also, maybe it’s not. maybe it’s the way her hand lingers too long. or the way he leans in like he doesn't even notice. or maybe it’s the way it makes you feel invisible in a room where you were supposed to be his favorite person.

then he sees you. his eyes meet yours through the crowd. locking for just a second. and something in his expression falters, like he didn’t expect to see you. like he forgot you’d be here.

and suddenly, you’re the one who looks away. like you’re the intruder. like you’re the one who was doing something wrong.

moments later, his arms snake around your waist from behind, “hey baby,” jaehyun murmurs in your ear, voice low and thick with alcohol, “you came.”

his breath is warm against your skin as he presses wet, messy kisses along your jaw and down your neck. he smells like whiskey and whatever cheap cologne she was probably wearing. his grip tightens like he’s afraid you’ll slip away but your body stays stiff in his hold.

you twist slightly to face him, placing a hand on his chest, a quiet boundary.

“who was that?” you ask, trying to sound casual, light, but the slight edge in your voice betrays you.

“hmm?” he hums, lips still trailing your skin.

“the girl. the one you were talking to.”

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. his gaze is hazy, but amused, he knows you too well. “have i ever told you how cute you are when you’re jealous?,” he teases, sucking that soft spot right below your ear.

you push him back. gentle but firm. your expression is blank. he notices.

“she’s just an old friend,” he adds casually, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear like that makes it all better, “don’t worry about it.”

and maybe that should be enough.

but something about the way he says it, the way he smiles, too easy, too quick to disregard your feelings. it all leaves a strange, sour taste in your mouth.

still, you don’t push it. not here. not in front of the crowd. not when he’s swaying slightly on his feet and leaning all his weight into you like you’re his safe place. like he doesn’t even realize how tightly your jaw is clenched.

later, in his room, it’s just the two of you with the door closed and the world outside muffled. he’s quieter now. less drunk. but his hands are still greedy. still tracing the places he’s always claimed a map he knows by heart. his hands finding their way beneath your shirt, along your thighs, between your legs.

you don’t stop him. because it’s easier to fall into him than to fight the pit in your stomach. easier to let yourself believe his mouth on your neck means i choose you. easier to kiss him back, let your clothes fall, let your bodies tangle in the dark. let yourself believe this means he’s still yours. all yours.

the sex is slow, tender, familiar. all mouths and murmurs and fingers threading through hair. he whispers your name like a prayer, like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the moment. he moves inside you like you’re the only thing tethering him to this moment. like if he touches you hard enough, long enough, all the cracks will seal shut again. and for a while, you forget. you forget the party. the blonde. the ache in your chest.

you just feel him.

“i love you,” he breathes. you say it back.

but when it’s over, when you’re curled against his chest, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your back, your eyes stay open in the dark.

his body is warm. his arms are wrapped around you. but something still feels different. something feels off.

like the air’s a little heavier. the silence is a little louder. your mind is miles away. still watching her laugh. still wondering why he didn’t move away.

you don’t ask. you don’t cry. you don’t accuse. you just lie there in the silence. and he doesn’t notice. or maybe he does but he doesn’t ask.

and that’s the part that stings the most. because love is still there. but the trust?

that might be the thing slipping quietly through the cracks.

the surprise.

it had been a brutal couple of weeks. your schedule had been merciless consisting of clinicals, overflowing textbooks, late-night study groups and back-to-back lectures. you barely had time to breathe. let alone see your boyfriend.

but you missed him. god, you missed him.

so today, on your first free day in weeks, you chose him. you skipped the library. you shut your laptop. you pushed aside your exhaustion and made time.

you spent the day learning how to make his favorite dish, the one he said tasted like home, the one he said he missed. you got the ingredients, followed the recipe, burnt it once, then tried again. the kitchen was a mess but your heart was full. you wanted it to be perfect.

you were nervous but excited. the kind of excitement that makes your fingers tingle and your heart race a little faster.

you hadn’t told him you were coming, you wanted to surprise him, make up for the time you’d been gone.

as you approached his dorm, your nerves bubbled up again. you balanced the container in your hands, smoothing your hair and checking your phone. no texts. even better. he had no idea that you were coming.

you knock once. no answer. you try the knob. it’s locked. you pulled out a duplicate of his key, the one he had made for you. hear the door click open.

and you step inside with a soft smile already forming, “jae?”

but his name dies in your throat. the smile doesn’t last. because there, tangled in his sheets, is jaehyun. half naked. sleepy-eyed. and she’s with him. the blonde.

your whole body stills, breath vanishing, fingers going numb, the container slipping from your hands and hitting the floor with a hearbreaking thud. you think you hear the lid crack open, food spilling out but you can’t look away from the bed.

from her. her mascara smudged, hair a mess, lips swollen.

jaehyun’s eyes follow hers, dazed, then panicked the second he sees you, “y/n.”

just your name. not baby.

“i—this—,” he stumbles over his words, sheet pooling at his waist as he sits up, guilt written across his face.

you don’t want to hear it. not the excuses. not the explanations. all you can see is the truth laid bare in front of you. her in his shirt, him in her arms, your world unraveling at your feet along with the meal you made just for him.

“this was supposed to be a surprise,” you whisper, your voice trembling, quiet and broken, like if you spoke any louder, you’d shatter completely.

“it’s not what it looks like!,” he pleads, getting up, grabbing his jeans like it would fix anything.

but it is what it looks like. it’s exactly what it looks like.

and it breaks you.

you blink once, twice, the tears blur the room but you don’t let them fall. not yet. “i really… really tried to make this work,” you say, your voice cracking, “i gave you everything i could and you—” you choke back the tears burning at the back of your throat, “you gave it to her.”

jaehyun looks like he’s about to break, but you don’t let him speak. you can’t. because you knew that if you stay any longer, if you let him reach you, touch you, beg you…you’d forgive him. you’d fold. you’d believe in him again. and he doesn’t deserve that.

so you turn. and you leave. you don’t look back. not even when he calls your name. not even when he runs after you, barefoot in the hall.

you don’t stop.

life without him.

the first week, you didn’t talk much. your voice felt foreign in your own throat. your phone buzzed more than usual. sometimes you wished his name would pop up but it never did. the only ones who cared enough were your friends. the ones who kept asking if you were okay. the ones who were quick to offer wine nights, sleepovers, distractions.

you appreciated it. but the truth was you weren’t okay. far from it. and the distractions never worked. but the silence always returned. every night. and maybe the absence was worse than the betrayal.

because every hallway you walked through had a memory of him. your brain betrayed you by replaying flashes of his smile. his hoodies still filled up half of your closet. his toothbrush was still next to yours. but he was no longer there.

the second week, you cried more. everything reminded you of him. the cars driving by, the campus cafe you both used to meet at where you once spent entire afternoons doing nothing but sharing fries and laughter, the songs that played.

worse than missing him was knowing that you weren’t allowed to anymore. not after what he did.

because the boy you missed, the one who kissed you at red lights, the one who wrote you a song. that boy chose someone else. with the same hands that used to only reach for you.

you try to explain it to your friends over dinner one night, but they don’t get it. they mean well. but they didn’t know him the way you did.

they didn’t see the version of jaehyun who whispered dreams into your ear at 3 a.m. who played you lullabies on his guitar when you couldn’t sleep. who kissed your knuckles before every exam and told you he believed in you. who made playlists just for long drives. who taught you how to parallel park without ever raising his voice.

so when they say things like “you’re better off” or “he didn’t deserve you anyway,” it doesn’t help.

it only makes you feel worse. because even if he doesn’t deserve you, you still want him. you still ache for him in every quiet moment.

and no one could unteach your heart what it already knew.

the third week, you almost called him. just once. your finger hovers over his name in your phone. but you don’t press it. because what would you even say? why wasn’t i enough? was she better? do you miss me? do you still love me?

no. you couldn’t do that to yourself no matter how badly you wanted answers.

you tried to return the pieces of him that haunts your space. walked all the way to his dorm, box in hand. but when you got to the door, the weight of it hit you so hard you turned right around and left. instead, you shoved everything under your bed. hoodie, pictures, all of the gifts he gave you throughout your relationship.

and you don’t call. you cry into your pillow instead.

the fourth week, you finally go to class again, with lipstick on. it’s not much. it doesn’t mean you’re over him. but it means you can at least walk into a room and not completely fall apart.

you even manage to laugh once, something your friends don’t miss. they send each other secret smiles when you’re not looking. they know it’s a good sign.

and even though you’re still grieving, still aching, still remembering him every time you hear a guitar strum, you start to find little moments of peace. not joy, not yet. but peace. tiny and fragile. but enough.

life without you.

he wanted to call, god, he wanted to.

every day since you left, his fingers hovered over your name. your contact was still saved with a heart beside it. still in his emergency. still starred.

the day you walked in on him — standing frozen with the lunchbox in your hands and tears burning in your eyes turned into a haunting memory.

you didn’t scream. you didn’t yell. you just looked at him like he’d shattered something sacred. and he ran after you, barefoot, panicked, half-dress and breathless.

but he stopped. and maybe that’s the part that haunts him the most.

he never called. not because he wasn’t sorry. not because he didn’t care. but because he didn’t know how to face the wreckage he caused. because deep down, he knew you deserved more than what he gave you. more than the version of himself that let you down in the worst way.

and the worst part? he had fallen for the blonde.

not in the way he fell for you, not the meteoric, world-tilting, i wrote you a song, kind of way.

but in a way that required no gravity. no weight. no soul.

he didn’t have to fight for the blonde. she showed up at every party, laughed at his jokes without really knowing what they meant. she kissed him like it was expected, not treasured. and she had time…time he hadn’t gotten from the girl he used to sit under the stars with.

he remembered that ache too well. the way you would cancel plans because of labs, fall asleep with textbooks in your lap instead of his arms, show up late with guilt in your eyes and coffee in your hands, apologizing with forehead kisses and tired smiles.

he missed you even then. missed the weight of your head on his chest. missed the silence you could sit in together without it ever feeling awkward. missed the way you loved him in your own quiet, exhausted ways.

but at some point, he got tired of missing you. of waiting. of feeling like second place to your ambition, your plans, your future he couldn’t see himself in.

so when the blonde leaned in close at that party, when her laugh filled the space that had been empty for too long, he didn’t pull away. he let it happen. over and over. until “don’t worry about it” turned into something else. something messier.

but nothing about it ever felt like you.

because every time she said his name, it never sounded right. every time she touched him, it didn’t burn like you. and no matter how many nights he spent tangled up in her limbs, he couldn’t get the memory of you out of his head.

he didn’t call. because he didn’t know what he’d say. because saying “i’m sorry” wouldn’t be enough. and saying “i still love you” would only hurt more.

he still played his guitar, but the songs didn’t sound the same. they didn’t come easy like they did when you were sitting cross-legged on his bed, humming along. he still laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. he scrolled through your socials more than he’d ever admit. he saw the smiles you posted with new cafes, new books, new friends. he wondered if you still thought of him. wondered if you hated him. worried that you didn’t.

sometimes at night, he found himself dreaming about you. vivid, disorienting dreams where you were still together, lying on the hood of his car with your fingers laced and the stars overhead. he’d wake up with tears in his eyes, and the blonde would ask what’s wrong?

he never had the heart to tell her.

he never had the heart to call you.

so instead, he stayed quiet. learned to live with the silence. with the guilt. with the ghost of a love that used to fill every corner of his world.

even as it killed him a little more each day.

three months after.

you passed each other on campus once. your hair was cut short, his has grown a little longer. both of you slowed. both of you looked. neither of you stopped.

he looked tired. not in a bad way. just older, like life weighed on him a bit. his hoodie was wrinkled. he had a stubble now. and he looked at you like you were the last page of a book he still wasn’t ready to put down.

there was a twitch in his fingers, a muscle memory of reaching for you. you saw it. you felt it. and you hated how much it made your chest ache. how your heart stuttered like it remembered a song it used to know by heart.

tha air between you was thick. electric. so many words. none of them spoken. he opened his mouth slightly as if to say your name but no sound came out. and you? you thought of every version of him you’d ever loved. including the one that cheated on you.

a part of you wanted to stop. to ask how he’d been. to ask if he ever missed you at 3a.m. when the world got too quiet. but you didn't. you kept walking. because what do you say to someone who once held your soul, and now only holds silence?

someone who couldn’t even love you enough to give explanations and apologies?

no words. no closure. just the aching knowledge that once, this person had been your entire world and now they were just a stranger with your memories.

back to present day. one year later.

you’d been driving for nearly an hour now, one of those late-night drives meant to quiet your thoughts, to press shuffle on a playlist full of nothing and everything. the road was nearly empty, the sky hazy with stars, and your fingers tapped anxiously against the wheel.

you didn’t even see the stop sign until it was too late. your foot slammed the brakes. the world lurched. metal kissed metal.

“holy shit!,” you yell. the jolt snapped you back to reality as your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline flushing through your veins.

of course you would crash your car the same week you got your license.

you stumbled out of the car, eyes wide, scanning for damage, panic rising in your throat. that’s when you heard it.

“y/n?!”

and your whole body froze. you didn’t have to look to know who it was.

that voice — the one you still heard in your dreams. the one that still echoed in the back of your head on days when you let yourself remember. the one you hadn’t heard in over a year but could recognize in a heartbeat. the one you made peace with.

slowly, you looked up, and there he was – jaehyun. standing on the other side of the road. frozen. like he’d seen a ghost. his jaw slack, eyes just as wide as yours.

for a second, neither of you said anything. you couldn’t.

he’s the last person you ever wanted to see in a moment like this. or maybe the first.

you swallowed hard, heat rising behind your eyes.

‘great. the universe fucking loves me.’

“hey, are you okay?” he asked, voice unsure, softer than you remembered.

his car looked fine, a little scratched on the side where your car clipped it, but nothing major. that’s when you noticed it.

“is that… a new car?”

“uh, yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

his eyes didn’t meet yours and that stung more than it should’ve. that awkwardness…that silence. you once knew everything he was feeling with a glance. now, you could barely read him.

“i… i’m really sorry,” you say quickly, trying to regain your footing, “i wasn’t paying attention. i’ll cover whatever damage…we can exchange info—”

he steps closer, inspecting the scrape between your two cars, “hmm, it’s fine. no one was hurt, and the damage isn’t bad. i can just get it fixed.”

your breath catches, “are you sure?”

“yeah.” short. clipped. just like the way he left you.

you nod, crossing your arms, trying to pull yourself back together, but the silence that followed was heavy. too full of things you’d never got to say.

“…you got your license,” he says quietly.

you look up, blinking in surprise, “uh… yeah, i-i did.”

and he smiled. that same dimpled smile. the one you used to love. the one you haven’t seen in months, but still feel somewhere beneath your skin. it felt like being hit by a memory and a wave of grief at the same time.

there’s a beat.

then he turns, ready to leave. but something inside you cracks open, that quiet ache that never fully healed. so you call out, voice just barely above a whisper.

“hey…jaehyun?”

he stopped, turned back, eyes searching, “yeah?”

you swallowed, heart thudding your chest. you looked at him, really looked at him, and you saw it. the sadness in his face, the exhaustion behind his eyes.

“i just…” your voice came out softer than you intended, “i just wanted to say thank you. for teaching me.”

he stared at you for a moment and something shifted in his face. his smile this time was different. not the one you fell for. this one was heavier. more tired. more honest.

he nods once, “you’re welcome.”

and in that moment, you knew. he regretted it. the blonde, the silence, the year without you. all of it.

but you both said nothing more because what was left to say?

you didn’t need his apologies anymore. you didn’t need anything from him at all.

so you mirror his nod. and without another word, the two of you head back to your cars.

two cars. two people. driving in opposite directions.

but the ache in your chest tells you you’re both still carrying pieces of each other that no one else ever really got to touch.

and maybe that’s the saddest part.

the crash from his eyes.

he hadn’t even planned to go out that night. the party invite sat unopened in his messages. the game on the radio blurred into background noise. he just needed to drive with the windows down, mind quiet, something to drown out the guilt that still clawed at him when he was alone.

he told himself he was fine. told his friends he’d moved on. smiled when the blonde kissed his cheek in public, even though it felt like swallowing sand.

but even though he got a new number, he never deleted yours. never stopped writing songs he never finished. never got around to throwing out the old hoodie you left in his dorm until it no longer smelled like you.

he didn’t expect the crash. didn’t see it coming until it jolted his body forward, his hands tightening instinctively on the wheel. the impact wasn’t bad. just enough to shock him.

he cursed under his breath, unbuckled, and got out, already preparing to reassure whoever hit him. but then he heard it.

“holy shit!”

that voice. your voice. his blood ran cold. he turned. and time stopped.

you were standing there, heart pounding, wide-eyed, with your car door open and your hands shaking. you looked older but still so god damn beautiful it hurt to breathe.

“y/n?!”

your name escaped before he could stop it. and when you turned to face him, something inside him cracked open.

he hadn’t seen you in a year. three hundred and sixty-five days of pretending he didn’t miss you.

of pretending it didn’t kill him every time someone brought you up. now here you were. like a ghost he hadn’t been ready to face and he was the idiot who still dreamed about you.

“hey, are you okay?” he asked, because what else could he say?

you nodded, clearly shaken, eyes flickering over the cars, the scratch, the damage, anything but him.

“is that… a new car?” you asked.

he ran a hand through his hair, forcing a breath,“yeah.”

he didn’t tell you that it was his way of trying to erase you. couldn’t tell you that it made it worse because now the passenger seat felt empty in the wrong ways.

you apologized, of course you did, still so considerate. still so gentle. even when he was the one who wrecked everything first.

“i’ll cover the damage…we can exchange info…”

god. you were nervous. rambling. and he hated that you were talking to him like a stranger.

“it’s fine,” he said quietly. because no scratch on a bumper could compare to the wreckage of you leaving his life.

“are you sure?” you sounded uncertain. like you didn’t trust him anymore.

you were right not to.

“yeah,” he said again. bare. hollow. final.

he should’ve told you then. told you that he still thought about you every time he passed the cafe on campus. that the blonde was long gone, that she never really stayed, because she could feel what he didn’t say. that the only reason he hadn’t called was because he didn’t know how to say i never stopped loving you without falling apart.

but instead, he said something stupid.

“you got your license.”

and when you smiled, shy and small, it undid him. that smile. that softness. the same one that made him feel like maybe love didn’t have to hurt.

you didn’t say much. didn’t ask how he was. didn’t offer closure. not like, he deserved it. but then, just as he turned to leave, you stopped him.

“hey…jaehyun?”

his name on your lips again. he turned, heart thudding, eyes burning.

“i just wanted to say thank you. for teaching me.”

and he almost lost it right there. because that was you, even now. still choosing gratitude over bitterness. still offering peace, when all he’d left you with was silence.

“you’re welcome,” he whispered.

but what he really wanted to say was:

i’m sorry. i never meant to hurt you. you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and i didn’t realize it until it was too late. i think I’ll always love you.

instead, he watched you return to your car. and he did the same.

he drove off into the night with a hollow in his chest that hadn’t shrunk in a year and he knows that missing space will always be in your hands.

THE END.

͙͘͡★

an: finishing this feels likes a breath of relief not gonna lie. thank you for reading! let me know who you would like to see in this series! i’m thinking maybe johnny with enough for you next? but idk! leave your thoughts with me if you’d like <3

#jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun angst #jung jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 smut #withsourseries

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beatrixst0nehill · 4 months ago

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Alice rubbed her belly, flaunting her pregnant form eagerly. "Soooo, this is very exciting. H-Hey guys, surprise! I'm pregnant.... My parents basically gave me an ultimatum. Either detransition or start pumping out kids. Like.... I was thinking of just detransing, like what trans girl doesn't pump her cock thinking of that??? But I chickened out and said I wanted to start breeding! Granted, I was bringing home a new guy or three.... or five.... basically every night. And my parents had to listen to me giggle and moan and get my fat, girly ass pounded for hours, all the while having to deal with the walls shaking and hearing their spoiled princess get spanked and smacked around. I think they really regret talking me into transitioning but it's too late now!

I actually received an already-pregnant womb. Allegedly I'm six months along but I've only had this womb for three months. The hospital got it out of some ditzy college girl who was testing experimental fuck machines. A student cranked it up when she was testing it on her ass and it scrambled her guts. Soooo, lucky me? Is this big for six months? I feel like it is. My doctors assured me everything is normal and it's becoming very common for trans girls to become breeders!

There is one teeny tiny problem. So, they gave me a choice when daddy brought me in to get my womb. Either they don't do anything and my belly just gets bigger and bigger with no birth canal until the hospital scoops me off the street to give me a C-section, or they give me a birth canal. I thought the first answer sounded a bit scary. Apparently it's pretty popular and really exciting for the girls to see how long they can last without getting dragged to the ER and having their kids scooped out. I asked for a birth canal. Ummm, let me just show you."

Alice removed her baggy skirt, lifting her cock with great heft, hanging down to her knees. She slapped it onto the table in front of her camera. It was even thicker than her upper arms, totally swollen, with a gorgeous head the size of her fist and the color of her lips, its urethra drooling precum. "Look at this!" Alice stroked her cock, reaching forward, slipping four fingers into it with ease. "Oh fuck, it feels so good! Look, I can fist my cock! I may or may not be encouraging guys to fuck it, too....... My balls are gigantic, too. How am I supposed to stay a girl with balls the size of grapefruits??? Ugh, I swear I must cum a gallon a day at least, it's unbearable how bad my erections get after only an hour or two without sex or masturbating. I'm told it's a similar level of horniness to most cis pregnant girls. Hurray, I guess?

I am also on very high doses of estrogen to keep my hormones in check, but still! My cock used to be like five inches, and my balls were like marbles. My doctor says they're almost finished growing but I'm not sure I believe him. Either way us trans girls with wombs are apparently kept pregnant by the state. I thought I'd have to go out and get fucked but nope! I have no choice. I'll be kept pregnant forever now, forced to push as many kids as possible out of my 'birthing shaft' as they call it. Since technically it's too big to actually fuck girls with. Doesn't stop them from trying. I get soooo many pregnant girls who excitedly approach me, feeling my belly, asking how far along I am, or to see how swollen my pussy looks, only to lift my dress or skirt and they gasp..... Then these girls take it as a challenge, trying to suck it, stroking it, bending over and begging me to 'try my hardest to ram it in their holes'. It's kinda fun getting so much attention from girls all of a sudden but it's exhausting, too. And I'm only six months? How do girls walk with such giant bellies???

Oh well, another four months or so until the big day. I'll definitely be filming it. Hopefully my cock can withstand pushing out so many kids. I can't wait to try! I feel like even at this side my poor cock might burst trying to do this but I promise to put on a good show either way! I love being pregnant, and hopefully this is the first of many more! ❤️"

#preggophilia #trans pregnant #mtf pregnant #pregnant kink #huge pregnant belly #birth kink #mtf breeding #mtf preggo #mtf cock growth

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ranchstoryblog · 6 months ago

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Fandom Memories: HMFarm

Hmmm. So, nearly a quarter of you whippersnappers wanna hear about the good ol' days, huh? Well, back in the day, you wouldn't just hang out on one or two big websites to try to find people who shared your niche interests among a million random users. Everything had its own dedicated site, with its own special pack of weirdos that you probably wouldn't find anywhere else. Home grown fandom, sprouting from the cement sidewalks of the freshly paved internet like so many weeds with pretty little flowers on top. So, let's take a little stroll down memory lane and visit one of the oldest fan sites with Archive.org's "Wayback Machine."

Ahh, just like I remember it. This here is "Harvest Moon Farm." 'course, we just called it HMFarm, like the URL did. This used to be the place to be. The prime progenitor of all farmin' fansites in the English speaking community. Maybe not the literal first, but up until around 2005, this was where you would go if you wanted to know anythin' about digital farmin'. It truly was a magical place to visit.

This screenshot isn't the oldest design, but it's the one I fondly remember. The majority of my time using the site was during the lead-up to A Wonderful Life, which was probably also when it was the most active as an information source. Seeing the screenshots, checking the forums, speculatin', wonderin', dreamin'... It's a warm feeling. I can't really describe how it felt to look at these shots for the first time. Granted, they were mostly sourced from various places like IGN or Newtechnix, but who wanted to go to THOSE messy sites when all the info I wanted was right here? IGN wasn't telling me how to revive the Vineyard in Harvest Moon 64 while I was waiting for AWL news either.

Our first look at the character we would come to know as Muffy, the sheer novelty of being able to go into the townsfolk's glorious, 3D-rendered rooms, the apparent misidentification of flowering tomatoes... The webmaster, Gamergirl87, would caption each one as well. Some of the captions of those screenshots ended up not being exactly true, but it was the closest thing to on-going coverage we really had. Who else was there to trust?

It's a little off topic, but I think at one point after learning about the GBA connectivity, I must have dreamed about this very gallery and seeing a screenshot of a Gamecube-ized Popuri with the caption that Mineral Town villagers would visit after connecting the GC and GBA together. At least, I'm pretty sure it was a dream. I've met some people who claim they saw the same thing, but none of us have been able to find that screenshot or comment again.

The one that would most catch my attention was the one on the left here. I didn't have a PlayStation 2, so I was coming fresh off of the GameBoy and Nintendo 64 when going into A Wonderful Life. The pond, the mysterious glowing plants, the mood and ambiance of their lighting, the little tree on the door... Naturally, I mirrored it on my first day the remake was available.

It's a real shame that the message boards are poorly preserved, since it doesn't look like there was a news post about the pre-order plush cow. I was hoping to find the name of whoever it was that convinced me to commit my first ever preorder. I still have the receipt, but without the forum post it's really only tangentially related to HM Farm.

'course, just learning about existing games and upcoming games wasn't the only good thing HM Farm was for. As I alluded to, there was a whole community here! While it's a shame that the message boards aren't well preserved by the Wayback Machine, you know what is?

The "ideas" list! This incredible time capsule was one of the first "interactive" parts of the site, starting in the year 2000. It's kind of fun to see how many of these ideas actually happened. Obviously, new characters and personalities were probably expected, but Animal Parade would eventually feature a honeymoon, several games have clothing and other customization, a mall, city, and pig would be added as soon as GBC 3, a goat would be in A Wonderful Life... It's actually amazing how prescient a lot of the suggestions are.

I'd share the whole thing, but the amount of e-mail addresses involved gives me pause. Still, there's a couple I wanna highlight:

Considering how often I still hear about people wanting to marry the moms and people attributing it to just "the fans getting older," it's funny to see Laserion lay out that, no, we've always been like this. Right down to using Manna's unhappy marriage and Lillia's husband never returning as valid reasons they should be available.

Tuan145, on the other hand, I just find extremely amusing because of the specific "2002 Escalade" part. Yes, this is clearly the ideal vehicle for all farmers in the Story of Seasons universe. This is now accepted headcanon. The boat was added in GBC 3 too, so obviously a 2002 Escalade is going to be added any day now.

Another thing that's amazingly well preserved is the site's fan art section. There's a few missing images here and there, but for the most part the entire thing is open to explore. People of basically all ages and skill levels happily submitted their creations, including original characters, digital art, traditional art, crossovers with popular series like Sailor Moon, a liiittle bit of drug use... Y'know, all the kinds of things you'd expect to see in a fan art gallery of the day.

Even better, some of the artists are still doing art today! Looking around, I quickly discovered one of my favorites, Rina Cat, is now on Blue Sky. I made sure to ask for permission to repost their art before including it here. Reaching out to everyone would be a bit much though, so I'll just encourage you to just browse the gallery using the Wayback Machine yourself. There's poetry and fanfics too!

There's a lot more to the site, including useful bits of history like keeping track of release dates for games, pre-release screenshots, and information that was only available on Japanese websites at the time, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Unfortunately, though the site continued to be updated until 2010 and stayed online until 2021, it's no longer available on the regular internet and the URL doesn't seem safe to access anymore. I wanted to include an interview with the former webmaster as well, but all their readily available contact information was tied to the website and I haven't had any luck so far in finding other means of contact. If I have any success, I'll be sure to make a follow-up! If you have any memories of HMFarm, or other fan sites, I'd be happy to hear about it.

#story of seasons #harvest moon #fandom history #i started this post by using portraits of Taro every couple paragraphs #to help sell that the “voice” of the article was a comically old and crotchety old man remembering the good old days #but he has like NO emotional range in his portraits. “Happy” just uses closed eyes and mouth open #so the idea was abandoned as the post went on. oh well #For a lot of the smaller sites I'm not sure if I can really write up a long article #I might try to do something more like a series of little glossary entries in batches or something?

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year ago

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can i get a scarlet/violet gang x ghost trainer reader who lets their ghost types possess them for pranks ?

This took a minute to think about until mochi mayhem dropped--then I got ideas haha

...........

During the events of Mochi Mayhem...you seemed remarkably unfazed by Pecharunt's "curse" spreading throughout the village, finding it more amusing than frightening.

And it's because you were no stranger to being possessed yourself.

Your first experience occurred after a Spiritomb's soul got separated and found you as a temporary host while you were exploring some ruins in Paldea (with your poor Fuecoco at the time being terrified for you).

Fortunately it wasn't an aggressive one, just a scared lonely spirit that was piloting your body around until it was reunited with the other 107 souls of that Spiritomb....which turned out to be a shiny!

In a show of gratitude, it decided to join your team--and soon you found your true calling as a ghost type trainer.

So you've picked up other ghosts throughout your journeys in Paldea, Kitakami, and BB Academy.

At some point you trusted your main team enough to allow them to possess your body.

Initially, they only did if they believed it was necessary (ie saving you from a fall or sudden Pokémon attack).

But then you decide to let them do so for pranks and such--mainly reserving those for whoever bothered your friends, while other times your friends are the hapless victims.

Exhibit A: When a BB Academy student is harassing Kieran over how he used to act, you see him getting upset and have one of your Shiny Spiritomb's souls possess you, enabling you to creep up and stare at the bully--all behind his back without him ever noticing you.

He's confused when they suddenly look terrified and run away....and then he slowly turns around, screaming a bit upon seeing your face in the likeness of a Spiritomb (like in that one episode of Journeys where Ash gets possessed by one).

You feel bad, especially after the soul leaves your body, and you promise that you'll never do that again.

Although he is grateful you saved him from that intense moment.

Exhibit B: You're hanging out with Penny at your house, watching her play some horror game on your console.

Your Gengar gets the mischievous idea to turn the lights off and possess you, creating a creepy atmosphere all around the house, making your friend paranoid of whether the sounds were coming from the game or elsewhere.

In hindsight, it sounds hilarious..but you forgot Penny doesn't fw horror movie tropes like that.

As she commands Umbreon to attack you out of pure instinct-

Only to see you and Gengar get forcibly separated and hit the ground hard.

Knock Off was no joke.

She apologizes but is a bit annoyed bc she couldn't save her progress thanks to your "prank".

Exhibit C: While Arven is giving Nemona, Penny, Kieran, and Carmine lessons on the art of sandwich crafting, you stroll over with some purple mochi, offering it as a dessert.

Obviously they decline, seeing Pecharunt literally hovering beside you and wondering if you already forgot what happened.....and are horrified when you shrug and eat one, your eyes turning purple.

Yet before anyone can fully freak out, you just laugh and start talking normally.

To make a long story short, you and the mythical 'mon came to an agreement that you'll eat the mochi it provides as long as it doesn't make you do anything harmful (like battling) or anything ridiculous (like dancing and saying "mochi" nonstop) while possessing you.

It's still mischievous at heart, of course. You'll allow it to have a little bit of fun considering its troubling past.

Exhibit D: Your Skeledirge was the first 'mon you used the Synchro Machine on after arriving to BB Academy, walking around and battling wild Pokémon in the terarium for a few good hours.

This "reverse possession", however, left some adverse effects on you even after desynchronizing...as for several days you developed a habit for singing, could taste smoke in your breath, and even your partner's little fire bird companion decided that it wanted to nestle atop your head.

You realize what a funny prank this could be.

So you pull up to the cafeteria to the "date" Drayton invited you to and freak out the rest of the Elite Four (except for Crispin who immediately realizes you own a Skeledirge and thinks you're awesome).

That also makes for a rather...awkward reunion with Kieran who thinks you've seriously gone off the deep end, and you drop the act right away.

But he's too caught up in the idea of battling you and winning to care about why tf you're possessed rn.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #pokemon arven #pokemon penny #pokemon kieran #pokemon nemona #pokemon carmine #spiritomb #pecharunt #gengar #skeledirge #headcanons

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siberdoodle · 1 month ago

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Here are some Time Machine Reprise themed fakemon! :D

The types being psychic/ghost are based on the result of a QOTD poll! It was really really fun to work with two entirely different types than I would have normally picked for this (I would say that TMR would be ground/steel personally)!

Here are some fun facts about the designs:

The way Jashian Hoothoot evolves is weird- it's not based on level! Its pokedex entry would be something along the lines of "it's rumored to evolve when the sand runs out from the top of the hourglass"- how this would work in-game is he would evolve after being sent out in a specific number of battles. (my friends 'bullied' me [jokingly] about the fact that his sand would run out in like, 20 seconds flat, because the sand is going down pretty fast LMAO Pretend it's like. time sand. it falls slower 🙏 for some reason)

Owlglass's (Owl + Hourglass) body is themed on an old grandfather clock! His eyes are actually the hourglass, just turned on its side, and the bottom of the hourglass has the sand laid out horizontally! The eyes (most clearly with the third-eye) resemble a sunset/sunrise over a beach, and the concept for his funkyish pupils was to be silhouettes of sailboats against the sunset/rise!

I also tried to work in a lot of ideas from the song and also references to the music video into their designs c: hope u enjoy!!

#chonny jash #cccc #fakemon #cccc fanart #pokemon

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redroomreflections · 11 months ago

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Not Easily Broken Chapter 10

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

10/10

w/c: 6.4k

Note: So, this is it. The past three years have added up to this moment. It was so tough finishing this story but we made it. I'm always so nervous for y'all to read the final chapter since I don't want to disappoint the people aka you. But this is all in good fun and thanks for being along for the ride.

Enjoy =)

It’s early. Possibly too early in the morning for Natasha. You lie in bed next to her, peacefully asleep, as she opens her eyes for the first time that morning. She blinks, adjusting to the soft morning light filtering into the room. The familiar scent of the apartment envelops her, a comforting reminder of the life she's trying to rebuild. She takes a moment, lying still, listening to the gentle rhythm of your breathing beside her.

Slipping out of bed carefully, Natasha is mindful not to disturb you. The cool floor beneath her feet is a stark contrast to the warmth of the bed. She takes another glance at your bare form. She heads to the kitchen, your t-shirt draped over her, a small comfort in this new yet familiar setting. The apex of her thighs ache, a welcoming feeling after another night of lovemaking. She rolls her head around her shoulders, hoping to work out any kinks, as she pads further through the apartment. As she starts making coffee, Natasha's thoughts wander. This apartment, your apartment, feels both strange and right. It's not the home you shared before, but a new space where you're trying to rebuild what was lost. The past year of separation and the divorce have changed both of you. Now, with almost ten years of history and two children, things are different.

Natasha pours herself a cup of coffee, reflecting on the differences this time around. She wonders if this reconciliation is real if you both have truly changed and learned from the past. The divorce left its mark, but maybe it also gave you both the clarity you needed.

The coffee machine sputters and groans, as the smell fills the space. She goes through the motions of fixing herself a cup. Natasha leans against the kitchen counter, her eyes glued to the bedroom. Her hands cup the mug, relishing in the warmth that spreads throughout her hands. She uses her foot to scratch an indistinct spot on her leg. She sips at her drink, enjoying the rich aroma and flavor, the taste of the coffee warming her body. She thinks back to the early days of your relationship. How, once, you had made the coffee for her every day. Her mind gets stuck on things like that. Reminiscing. She doesn't dwell, though. That's something new. Instead, Natasha focuses on the here and now. The sound of your breathing in the other room, the taste of her coffee, the soft material of your shirt against her skin.

She tries not to think about the fact that when the two of you make love it's always here. For the past few weeks, it's always been here. Not in your marital home. Not in the bed you bought together. Not underneath the sheets that you picked out and that she'd never replaced. She tried to reason that it was for the sake of the kids. She wanted to reason that this was all for the both of you to get better without the questions and prying eyes of your children.

But she can't deny the real reason.

This apartment, the bed, the sheets. It doesn't have the history of the two of you. It doesn't know the whispered secrets, the heated exchanges, the faint scent of the other's perfume on its cool pillows. Not like her home. Your home. The one that, until a few weeks ago, hadn't been considered as such.

This place feels like a fresh start and a neutral ground. A way for the two of you to be together without any pretenses. Besides the first night she'd stayed here, the two of you don't discuss the divorce. You don't mention counseling even. Every other morning, Natasha would slip back into her clothes and return to the kids. Eventually, hours later, you would come knocking on the door and visit. You'd kiss her sweetly, gently, as if you hadn't fucked her brains out the very night before.

As if the past year didn't happen.

And for the first time in a long time, Natasha is okay with that.

Natasha doesn't want to think too deeply about it.

You've moved past the divorce, she's moved past the divorce. She hopes. She hears shuffling coming from the bedroom. Her senses are heightened as she anticipates you waking up but you don't.

Another noise disturbs her solitude. A knock at the door. That's a first. From what she's heard you don't usually get visitors.

She gently places her mug on the counter and walks over to the door. She stands on the tip of her toes to peer through the peephole. She doesn't recognize the person on the other side. She fixes her shirt and unlocks the door. She's met with someone of a similar height. A young girl who could be no more than fourteen. Her makeup is slightly heavy, a bit too mature for her age, but meticulously applied.

"Oh, hi," The girl rocks slightly on the tip of her toes. She glances at the door number in confusion before looking back at Natasha. "Is y/n here?"

"Y/n?" Natasha repeats. Her eyes narrow as she takes in the girl's appearance.

"Yes, I'm here for y/n," The girl repeats as if Natasha has comprehension issues. "The owner of this apartment unless she moved without telling us. Probably is something she would do."

"What business do you have with y/n?" Natasha asks, crossing her arms across her chest. She can feel the cool material of her shirt rub against her skin.

"I just came to bring her package," The girl offers a small package to Natasha. "Here. The Amazon lady keeps dropping it off at our door. I don't think she cares who it belongs to."

"Oh, okay," Natasha drops her arms. She takes the package in her hands.

"Are you her girlfriend or something?"

"Or something," Natasha says. "Who are you?"

"I'm Mallory, you can call me Mal," The girl nods. "I live across the hall." Mal inspects Natasha's choice of clothing and then whistles. "I didn't interrupt anything did I? You’re pretty. Hey, I know you."

"You do?" Natasha isn't all that surprised.

"You're the woman in the pictures," Mal grins. "The ex-wife she's still hung up on."

Natasha's heart beats loudly. Her interest is piqued by how well this kid knows you. "You've seen pictures?"

"Well, not the ones she's got framed," Mal explains. "But she had a bunch in an album and shit. You guys were so cute. Too bad it didn't work out between you. Though considering you're not even wearing panties I'd think it's going fine."

"Excuse me?" Natasha doesn't make a move to tug the shirt down. That would mean this teenager wins and she wants to call the girl's bluff.

"Lucky guess," Mal shrugs.

"Mal, who are you talking to?" A voice calls from behind them as the door across the hall opens. Natasha watches a woman, possibly a few years older than the teenager, approach the doorway. "Oh, hi."

"Mom," Mal carries this shit-eating grin as she looks at the other woman. "This is y/n's ex-wife. You know the one she's been moping about for a while now."

"Nice to meet you," The woman extends her hand out to Natasha. "I'm Sarah. My daughter's a little blunt, but I'm not as rude as she is. Sorry if she bothered you."

"Oh, no she's not a bother," Natasha assures the woman. She looks back at the teen. "She's been a delight."

"Good," Sarah nods. She grabs the collar of the girl's shirt. "That's why she doesn't have many friends."

"I have friends," Mal argues. "Y/n's a friend. I'm the one that's told her to get back in the saddle. Are you going to break her heart again? That would be messed up for you. Of course, after all of the pretty women she's turned down, she deserves something good."

"Pretty women?" Natasha questions. She can't hide the frown on her face.

"Yeah," Mal laughs. "Y/n's been getting a lot of attention. The whole building knows. You've been missed. Don't hurt her again."

"I'm not planning on it," Natasha promises.

"Good," Sarah grins. She tugs on her daughter's shirt, pulling the girl inside. "Nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you, too," Natasha smiles distractedly before closing the door behind her. She locks it just in time for her to hear the shuffle of your feet entering the kitchen.

"There's my shirt," You mumble as you eye her outfit. You opted for a clean one and boxers after not being able to find the one you'd stripped last night. "Hi, baby." You whisper as you close the distance between you. You rest your hands on her waist beneath the fabric as you plant a kiss on her lips. "Mhmm, you taste good." You dive in for another kiss.

"Y/n," Natasha hums. She feels you tug the hem of the shirt up and over her waist. Her bare bottom is exposed, but you keep her pressed against the door. "There's something you've been keeping from me."

"Hmm?" Your lips press against her pulse point, your hand tracing her inner thigh.

"A teenage girl and her mother were at your door," Natasha sighs. "They called me pretty. Told me a bunch of new things about you."

"I've been doing a lot of things," You mutter, kissing the exposed part of her shoulder.

"They mentioned," Natasha closes her eyes, feeling your fingers trace along the outside of her folds. "How many women have approached you? " She slightly pushes at your chest to get you to stop. You know that tone in her voice. It's not a playful one.

"A few have," You admit. "I didn't encourage anything. I wasn't interested. Why are we talking about this right now?"

"You're not interested?" Natasha questions.

"Not at all," You tilt your head. "Also, I wouldn't just say it's been that many women. Sarah and Mal are just fucking with you. Probably getting back at me for canceling our weekly dinner thing."

"Weekly dinner thing?" Natasha repeats. Her eyes are suddenly distant. It's almost as if she's debating on whether or not to make this a thing. "How often was that going on?"

"Every week for about six months," You answer, stepping away from her. "It's not a big deal. They've had a lot of people in their lives come and go. They're welcoming. Mal is a great kid once you get to know her."

"You know her," Natasha continues.

"Well, yeah she comes to the dinners too," You shrug. You take the box from her hands and step over to the counter to open it. if you weren't going to get any play you might as well open the surprise you'd gotten for yourself.

"Right, the kid that knew a lot about me," Natasha huffs.

"That should be a good thing right?" You glance over at her. You dump the contents of the box, a new pair of airpods after you've lost the last ones. "Is this going to be a conversation about how you think I'm sleeping with Sarah?"

"Should it be?" Natasha raises a brow.

"No, it shouldn't," You shake your head. "Are you jealous?"

"No," Natasha shakes her head. "I trust you. I just want to know more."

"Nat, it's nothing," You insist. "What's the big deal?"

"You didn't tell me," Natasha argues. "That while our kids were yearning and missing you, you were over here playing house with another woman and her kid. While Ryan and Emma got your voicemail inbox this kid got first in line to the family photo albums."

"That's not the case," You sigh. "It's not a thing, Nat."

"It's not?" Natasha scoffs. You didn't realize this would be an argument. You forgot how she finds the littlest things to dwell on.

"Did you just expect me not to have any friends?" You questioned. "If that's the thing you're mad at fine. I don't get it. You're insinuating that I was playing house with her is far from the truth."

"Were you?" Natasha challenges.

"Why are you doing this?" You sigh. You can't believe that this good day was turning into this. "I don't understand. I was lonely. Sarah was there for me. Mal is kind of just a part of the package. She let me vent to her. My not being there for the kids was my mistake. One I'm trying to make up for. It's kind of like your thing with Richard except she doesn't want to fuck me." Okay. You could have left that part out but you're honestly kind of annoyed at this entire thing.

"She doesn't want to?" Natasha laughs. "I thought you said you weren't interested. How can you know if she wanted to fuck you or not?"

"Because she's straight," You huff. "She's not going to want to fuck me."

You stand from your seat. "This is getting more ridiculous by the minute. If I knew a friend knocking on the door would trigger you this much I would have given you the warning to never open it. Actually, let me warn you Beatrice from the second floor likes to play bingo on Tuesday nights."

"Funny," Natasha rolls her eyes.

"is something wrong? You're picking a fight based on nothing," You sigh. "I'm sorry about the kids. Like I said it's something I'm working on. It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows over here."

"It wasn't like it was with us," Natasha points out.

"Natasha," You start.

"Do you not think this is weird?" Natasha asks. "We haven't talked about it."

"Talked about what?" You grasp at straws. You don't know where the conversation is heading.

"Everything," Natasha throws her hands in the air. "We haven't spoken about it."

"I thought we've talked a lot," You are genuinely confused.

"We have but we haven't," Natasha's eyes narrow.

"Okay," You nod. "Let's talk. We can sit down and have a discussion. Just not when you're trying to accuse me of sleeping with some random woman and raising her child."

"It's just...a little hard to believe," Natasha says.

"Nat, I can assure you there was no one else," You sigh.

"I wasn't saying that," Natasha mutters.

"Okay, so let's sit down and discuss this," You gesture over to the couch. "Though you might want to put on panties first if you want me to keep my distance."

"Y/n," Natasha rolls her eyes.

"Hey, you started it," You hold up your hands.

Natasha takes a few steps to the couch and sits down. You sit a comfortable distance away, leaving room between the two of you.

"I know you guys thought I abandoned the kids," You frown. "It's not my best moment. I was going through a lot. It was inconsiderate of me. Selfish even."

"They cried for you," Natasha says with tears in her eyes. "Frequently."

"I didn't know," You frown. You didn't know how bad the situation was. "I'm sorry. I wish I could make up for it."

"You're not abandoning them now," Natasha reminds you.

"Never," You shake your head.

"I have a temper," Natasha spoke more to herself.

"Yes," You laugh. "I can remember."

"I just," Natasha takes a breath. "I just get a bit jealous."

"That's understandable," You nod. "You're possessive. A little whiplash comes with the territory."

"Is that why you left?" She looks at you curiously.

"That's not the reason," You shake your head.

"Why'd you leave?" Natasha questions. "Please be honest."

"You have no idea what it was like in my head," You frown. "The two of us weren't a team. Not like we should have been. We weren't even in the same book. We weren't reading from the same script. I was so focused on everything else that I didn't see what was happening in front of me."

"Was that it?" Natasha whispers. "That's the reason?"

"Part of it," You mutter.

"I want the other part," Natasha sighs. "If we're being honest with each other."

"You pick fights," You reminded her of what happened just a few moments ago. "I'm too nonchalant about shit. Fine, I can own up to it. You pick fights. Every day, I would come home. You would pick a fight."

"I wanted you to talk to me," Natasha replies. "I tried."

"I didn't feel like talking," You reply. "I'm sorry. It's not you. It's me. I didn't have anything to say. I was tired. Stress from work. I was afraid to admit that I would rather face that than anything going on at home. So many expectations. So many things to do. So much of people needing me."

"I'm sorry," Natasha nods. "I didn't mean for it to be like that."

"I know," You smile at her. "I'm sorry, too."

"We suck at communication," Natasha looked down at her hands.

"We do," You agree. "I felt we were growing apart and expecting too much from each other. For the record, if I hadn't told you I never stopped being attracted to you. I just couldn't bring myself to have sex. My libido had lessened. With us fighting it didn't make sense to me."

"That's good to know," Natasha says. "You turned me down a lot."

"Not my best decision," You cringe. "How do we come back from all of this while being truthful to ourselves and what happened in the first place? How do we keep that from happening again?"

"We could start by answering why you don't want to sleep over at the house," She suggested.

"I didn't want to," You frown.

"Why not?"

"It feels," You breathe. "Too many bad memories."

"Okay," Natasha nods.

"I know it's our kids' home," You add. "But I can't get past the fact that I left and everything has changed."

"I get that," Natasha hums.

"How do you get over it?" You question. "I've missed so much. How do you not let that cloud everything?"

"It does," Natasha nods. "But when you have two kids depending on you, you kind of just push through."

"How'd you manage?"

"I didn't," Natasha confesses. "For the first few months, I didn't. I didn't talk about you. I didn't show them the pictures."

"You didn't?" You are a little shocked.

"I wasn't ready," She admits. "I didn't know how to. There was this gaping hole. I was sad and angry."

"That's not the impression that was given," You mutter.

"I didn't show them," Natasha replies. "Richard did. I would watch him as he would talk to them about you."

"What?" You raise a brow. "That guy hates me."

"No, he doesn't," Natasha says. "He was disappointed and a little upset."

"Upset?" You question.

"He liked you," Natasha sighs.

"Yeah, okay," You scoff.

"He did," She insists. "Even if he is an asshole. I won't be trying to give you his redemption arc or anything. "

"He is an asshole," You nod.

"So are you," She says.

"What?"

"Sometimes you are," She smiles.

"You're right," You laugh.

"I am too," Natasha admits.

"I didn't think it was possible," You smile.

"What?"

"To fall in love with you twice," You look over at her. "I didn't think that was possible."

"I'm glad you did," Natasha's cheeks flush.

"Our marriage was like a piece of tape," You say suddenly.

"What?"

"It was always there," You shrug. "Trying to stick together. Never able to quite connect. There were a lot of issues that went unresolved. We never addressed the problems."

"I guess so," Natasha nods. "Do you want to fix them?"

"We don't have to," You remind her.

"I would like to," She looks over at you.

"I always wanted the kids," You confess. "I know that's been a doubt. Of course, you won't ask it out loud. I never felt pressured to have them. I wanted them just as much as you did. I want them just as much now."

Natasha bites her lip. It's amazing how well you know her.

"This divorce taught me how to be alone again," Natasha whispers. "I became too dependent on you for my happiness."

"We both did," You nod.

"Trying to have another baby would have been a mistake," Natasha has a look in her eyes. " Trying to have a baby when we weren’t okay would have been a mistake.” She clarifies. “A stupid one. The surprise would have ruined us. We were barely together as is."

"It was something you wanted," You put a comforting hand on her leg. "I would have been happy."

"Yeah?" She raises a brow.

"A little you running around? Not that Emma isn't already that," You shrug. "A lot of couples have babies to fix things."

"I didn't want us to be that couple," She shook her head.

"We wouldn't have," You promise.

"I was selfish," She admits. "I was mad at you for a long time. I didn't want to try."

"Nat, if you had gotten pregnant we would have made it work," You tell her.

"Isn't that crazy to think about?" She muses. "We always just made things work."

"It's how we were," You nod. "Until we couldn't anymore."

"Can I ask you something?" Natasha says after a long moment.

"Always," You nod.

"What do you need from me?"

"To be patient," You answer. "To communicate. I want the truth, even if it's a harsh one. To be my partner, not someone who feels like I'm obligated to do anything. What do you need from me?"

"Time," Natasha replies. "Just give me some time. Time to adjust and not think of the what-ifs. To figure things out. Time to not feel guilty for loving you."

"We're in no rush," You reassure her.

"Who needs marriage counseling now?" She smirked.

"We still do," You chuckled. "You're right. We're a lot alike. We don't talk. We don't have a way with words."

"We just say the wrong ones," Natasha agrees.

"We'll just have to work on that," You say. "Come here." You tug her over to you. Her lips press against yours and you let out a satisfied moan. "You're mine."

"Hmm," She presses her lips against yours. "Only yours."

"Good," You breathe. "Now, where were we?"

"I can't remember," Natasha smiles.

"Let's not remember, together" You pull her onto your lap.

"I like the sound of that." She kisses your lips. Your hands slide under the t-shirt again.

"You really answered the door without panties?" You ask cheekily. "Scandalous."

"It wasn't on purpose," She blushes. Your left-hand rises to toy with her nipples over the shirt. "We can't end all of our discussions with sex."

"No, but it's a great way to make sure we understand each other," You grin. You pinch the nipple and she jerks under your touch.

"You're going to ruin me," She lets out a whimper.

"Only a little," You tease. You kiss her lips and let her take control of the kiss.

"What happens if I don't have sex with you tonight?" Natasha whispers against your lips.

"I'll be disappointed," You say.

"You're going to have to take a raincheck," She replies. "You have lunch with my sister in like two hours."

"Ugh, I forgot," You groan.

"She's not going to go easy on you." She muttered as your kisses began to drift towards her neck. "Don't get too close or she might cut you."

"Natasha?" You mutter to her as you push the t-shirt over her head.

"Mhmm?" She half moans.

"I don't want to talk about your sister while I'm trying to fuck you," You say. "She's a bit of a mood killer."

"Fair," Natasha chuckles. "No more talking about Yelena. No more talking about anything."

"No more," You agree. The next few minutes are done in relative silence. You pepper her chest with kisses while your other hand waste no time finding her clit.

"Oh, god," She moans.

"You're soaked," You tell her. You can feel how wet she is against your thigh.

"You were taking too long," She pouts.

"Well, you were the one who insisted on arguing with me," You shrug. As a slight form of punishment, you tease the entrance of her pussy.

"I was trying to prove a point," She says as she bucks her hips.

"That I'm a whore with a second family?"

"I can't answer that," She breathes.

"You were being ridiculous," You shake your head. "I should be mad."

"Are you?"

"Not anymore," You sigh.

"Then," Natasha's lips move towards your ear. "I don't want to talk."

You smile as your lips find her's. "Neither do I."

****************

"I can't believe my sister has let you into her bed," Yelena says after the waiter leaves.

You sit across from Yelena at the table. You figured a public restaurant in a neutral place would be best. Though you have no doubt she's hiding a knife attached to her thigh or something.

"You don't think she can be forgiving?" You raise a brow.

"It depends on the situation," Yelena shrugs. "Natasha doesn't do anything if she's not a hundred percent on board. I should kill you for how much you hurt her."

"Go ahead," You shrug. "It'll be a lot better than what I've already put her through."

"So, this is you begging for forgiveness," She raises a brow.

"More so," You nod.

"I'm listening," Yelena folds her arms. She leans back in her chair and gives you the floor to speak.

"Wow, that easy?" You question. "I thought you'd want to strangle me by now."

"There's still time."

"Well, I've had a lot of time to think," You nod.

"You're telling me," She rolls her eyes. "The amount of nights I've heard Nat cry herself to sleep was...a lot. It was a lot."

"I'm sorry," You frown. "It wasn't my intention."

"What was your intention?" Yelena questions.

"To figure out how to be a good mother," You answer. "A good person to myself. How to be a person I think."

"How's that going?"

"I'm getting there," You chuckle nervously.

"You have a lot to work on," Yelena nods.

"I know."

"Do you think you and Nat can make it work?"

"I hope so," You drink from your cup.

"I don't like you," Yelena offers. "You messed up a good thing. "

"I'm aware."

"I'm glad that you are," She smirks.

"Are you going to be like this the whole time?" You question.

"Depends, you haven't done enough groveling," She replies.

"Fine," You roll your eyes. "What can I do to prove I'm worth a second chance?"

"That's a good question," She smirks. "I don't know."

"You're going to make me figure it out?"

"Yup," She grins.

"What if you don't like the answer?" You ask.

"Then, you'll never have Nat back."

"I don't think that's one hundred percent true,"

"She's desperate to have her family back," Yelena relents. She hates to admit it. "She wants it to work again because for some reason she still loves you."

"I don't understand why."

"I don't either," Yelena sighs. "I'm trying to see what she sees. But I just can't."

"You knew me before the divorce also," You pointed out. "We were close."

"Yeah," She nods. "Then you left."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry isn't going to cut it."

"I'm going to make this right."

"You said that already," Yelena looks away. "My dad wants to break your arms."

"Why?"

"For making Nat cry," Yelena says. "That's what he does when anyone does that."

"I'll keep an eye out," You nod. "Do you have any idea how long I should be watching my back?"

"A while," Yelena smirks.

"I deserve it," You reply. "I don't mind the threat."

"Have you asked her to marry you again?"

You almost choke on your water. You grab a napkin to wipe at the dribble along your chin.

"No," You sputter. "We've just gotten back together. I mean we haven't even truly defined what this is. We don't even know where we will end up or if this will work. Does she want to?"

"I have no clue," Yelena answers. "Do you want to?"

"Of course, I do," You reply. "She's the love of my life."

"She's a fool to think you are." Yelena sighs.

"You're a great sister," You shake your head.

"I am," She nods. "Nat is the one that's a fool."

"Besides insulting me and her in some odd way, don't you want to ask me anything else?"

"You didn't cheat on her did you?"

"Technically it wouldn't be cheating since we were divorced but no,"

"Good," She nods.

"I would never."

"But you did lie."

"I know."

"What do you see happening if she takes you back? You can't leave her again."

"I won't," You answer. "I want us to go slow this time."

"Is that even possible?"

"It has to be," You nod.

"Okay, that's a good start," Yelena nods. "You're going to have a lot of making up to do."

"I know," You reply.

"This won't be a quick fix," She warns.

"I'm aware."

"It might not even work."

"I hope it does."

"Are you still a season ticket holder to the American baseball games?"

"Yes, why?"

"Can I have your season tickets?"

"I can arrange that." You look at her quizzically.

"Perfect."

"I'm glad you think so."

"That was the hardest one." Yelena relaxes.

"Does this mean you forgive me?"

"No, but I'm closer," Yelena sighs. "I can't forgive you, not yet. It's not up to me, though. It's up to my sister. If she forgives you, then so will I."

"How generous."

"It is."

"Anything else you want?" You raise a brow.

"Can I have your apartment?"

"What? That's a crazy thing to ask."

"Well, eventually when my sister lets you back into the house you're going to let it go."

"Probably."

"You need a new place."

"I have a condo."

"A place that doesn't have any memories."

"Maybe," You sigh. "We haven't talked about living arrangements."

"Just think about it," Yelena insists.

"I'll think about it."

"Good," She nods.

"Are you done now?" You question.

"For now," She shrugs.

You were good.

***************

2 years later…

In the softly lit room of the therapist’s office, Natasha and you sit close together, a quiet sense of anticipation hanging in the air. This is your final session of couples counseling, a moment to reflect on the journey you've undertaken together.

Cheryl begins, her voice calm and encouraging. "Today, we’re going to review all the progress you've made, celebrate your achievements, and talk about what you’ve learned about yourselves and each other."

Natasha glances at you, a small smile playing on her lips. It’s been a long road, filled with challenges and revelations. She thinks about the changes she's seen in herself and you. The walls she built after the divorce have slowly come down, replaced by trust and understanding.

"You both have shown incredible strength and resilience," Cheryl continues. "Natasha, you’ve learned to open up and share your vulnerabilities. And you’ve learned to be patient and supportive, giving y/n the space she needed."

Natasha nods, feeling a swell of gratitude. She remembers the moments of doubt and the times she almost gave up. But looking at you now, she knows it was worth it. The love between you is stronger.

“Y/n, you’ve learned to also open up and share your vulnerabilities and take time for yourself,” Cheryl reads from her notes. "Now, let’s talk about what you've learned about each other, "She prompts.

Taking a deep breath, you speak first. "I've learned that you’re incredibly patient and forgiving. You never gave up on us, even when things were tough. You’ve taught me the importance of communication and trust."

Natasha’s turn comes next. "I've learned that y/n is one of the strongest people I know. She’s been through so much, but she still finds the courage to move forward. I’ve learned to appreciate her resilience and to give her the support she needs."

The therapist smiles warmly. "You’ve both come a long way. Remember to look out for ‘red flags’—signs that things might be slipping. Communication is key, and recognizing these early on can help you address issues before they become bigger problems."

As the session draws to a close, the therapist summarizes your strengths and achievements. "You’ve rebuilt trust, learned to communicate more effectively, and found ways to support each other. Celebrate these victories and keep working on them."

Leaving the therapist’s office, Natasha feels a sense of hope and determination. This final session isn’t just an end; it’s a new beginning. Holding your hand, she knows that, together, you can face whatever comes next.

Now to go home to your kids.

************

When you walk through the door, you hear the familiar sounds of CocoMelon blasting at a ridiculous volume. You make eye contact with Natasha, rolling your eyes, but neither one of you truly feels annoyed by it. You drop your keys on the table and follow her into the living room.

"I thought I told you not to allow her to watch that," Natasha rounds the couch. "It's too overstimulating."

"Mom, you're back," Ryan hops up. "I have to show you what I made on Roblox."

"Sure thing kid," You ruffle his hair. "Where's your sister?"

"Right here," Emma walks into the room occupied by her tablet.

"Oh, hush she likes it," Yelena argues as she bounces the infant in her lap. There are so many conversations going on at once and the drooling baby in her lap turns her head at the voices she hears. Her eyes immediately brighten and she lifts to reach for Natasha.

"Hey, little one," Natasha coos as she takes your daughter into her arms. She plops onto the couch to properly hold her.

"She spit up again," Yelena points out. "I don't know why you guys don't get a proper nanny."

"We don't want that," You sigh as you settle next to Natasha. "I like coming home and having my kids running up to me."

"Plus, the last one was a thief," Natasha adds. "I caught her trying to steal some of my jewelry."

"You two are impossible," Yelena sighs. "So stubborn."

"You could've just said no," You point out.

"I'm not saying no to that face," Yelena pouts. She makes a funny face to which she receives a smile.

"You are going to spoil her," Natasha warns.

"She needs a spoiling."

"She's only six months old," You chuckle. "She doesn't need much."

"She needs the best," Yelena says. "Isn't that right Wren?"

"Like her auntie," You laugh.

"You are ridiculous," Yelena sighs.

"But you love us." You laugh.

"Okay, I'm heading out," Yelena stands. "Goodbye, family."

"See ya," You wave.

"Bye," Natasha waves with Wren's hand. "Say bye-bye, Wren."

Wren simply coos as her green eyes follow Yelena until she's out of the door.

It's then Emma decides to come and sit on your lap as Ryan rests at your feet.

"Hey put those devices away. Let's spend some family time," You nudge them.

"Okay," They groan as they put their stuff down. You receive a text on your phone and it's from none other than Tony Stark.

"Oh, come on, Mom you just told us to put them away," Ryan groans.

"I'm sorry, it's Tony, he wants to know if I'm willing to come back for my position," You offer. Your sabbatical had turned into a two-year break and a step down after the birth of Wren. You and Natasha had gotten remarried in a quiet ceremony this time. Just the four of you in a park with a minister. You didn’t announce it to friends or family. You’d both planned it out meticulously. You need it to be for both of you.

"Are you going back?" Natasha looks at you.

"What would you want me to do?" You question.

"Only you can decide that," She shrugs.

"I think I'm ready to go back," You nod. "With contingencies. My schedule can't be like it was. I want to spend as much time with my wife and kids as I can."

"Okay," Natasha nods. "Then, do it. You miss it."

"I'm still going to be here," You remind her. "I'm going to be there during important events like Wren's first steps. Emma's ballet recitals. Ryan's baseball games. All of it."

"I know, love," She kisses your cheek. "I believe you."

"Okay, let's settle the debate," Ryan interrupts. "Do you think Wren will say my name first or Emma's?"

"Probably Mom's," Emma replies.

"Or Auntie Lena," Ryan shrugs.

"Oh, God," You sigh. "She'll call everyone except you."

"I'll teach her to say it," Ryan promises.

"Okay," You roll your eyes.

"It'll be easy," Ryan nods. "She's a genius."

"I'm glad you think so highly of your sister."

"I can't help it," Ryan smiles. "She's pretty cute."

"And smart," Emma chimes in.

"Oh, and funny," Ryan laughs.

"Okay," You push Emma off you. "Wren, promise right now you'll say my name first."

The baby with the slightest bit of reddish-brown tufts of hair gurgles, stuffing her fingers into her mouth and chomping on them. Wren’s eyes, a striking green that mirrors Natasha’s, seem to take in everything with a surprising intensity for her age. There’s something undeniably familiar in her expressions and the way she moves—an echo of Natasha’s mannerisms. The resemblance is uncanny, a mini clone of her mother, right down to the determined set of her tiny jaw.

Having chosen the same donor for both Ryan,Emma, and Wren, it’s clear that the genetic legacy is strong. Wren’s features, the shape of her nose, the curve of her lips—all mirror Natasha’s so closely that it's like looking at a baby version of her. Even her little gestures, the way she furrows her brow in concentration or the slight tilt of her head when she’s curious, are pure Natasha.

"See, she gets it," You tell your kids.

"That doesn't count," Emma replies.

"It totally does," You argue. "Okay," you say with a laugh, feeling a warm sense of contentment wash over you. The playful banter between Ryan and Emma fills the room with a sense of normalcy and happiness that you cherish.

"Wren's lucky to have such a loving family. You two are going to be great role models for her." Natasha laughs.

Emma and Ryan exchange proud looks, their excitement about their baby sister evident.

As you all sit in the living room, the sense of togetherness and love envelops the family. Natasha takes your hand, squeezing it gently. "We've come a long way," she whispers.

You nod, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the journey you've been on and the family you've built together. The future is bright, and you know that, with each other, you can face anything.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #angst with a happy ending

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questionablecuttlefish · 4 months ago

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How do you think the girls show affection to each other?

my fics go into a lot of them.

but I think they are both touch starved in their own special ways.

We see Jinx flinch away from touch in Arcane a few times but its when she hasn't initiated it. When she does initiate it or she's comfortable with the person, she's very touchy feely.

And Lux comes from a society built out of cavernous spaces and barriers of literal armor, she gives me big 'hugger' vibes but it must be tough to be a warm caring person in freaking Demacia.

But we also see how affectionate both of them are inside and I think with those barriers removed they would be extremely physically tender with each other.

Cuddles, kisses, snuggling up to sleep, playing with each other's hair, and my H/C that Jinx has sharpened senses from the Shimmer and is maybe a little fixated on Lux's "sunlight" scent, the girl from the Undercity being close to a person who grew up in clean air and bright skies for the first time + being able to almost literally smell Lux's magic, a lot of the physical affection both of them have been starved of by the world around them.

Jinx is an inventor, a tinkerer and a people pleaser and we've seen that despite seeming wrapped up in her own head, Jinx can be very thoughtful when it comes to others. Her interactions show it, with Silco, Isha, and even building Sevika the gambler a literal slot machine arm.

I think she would just randomly tinker and build things for Lux that would make Lux's life easier or more fun, things she would think Lux would like, and gift them to her like a cat dropping dead birds on the porch, only they're actually useful ones.

Some of these would be literal works of genius and Lux would recognize them as such and treasure every one.

Lux for her part has a lot of empathetic traits and would fit naturally into a nurturing role with Jinx, comforting her when the voices are loud, talking her through things, holding her when she needs it, giving her space when she needs it.

I also think if Jinx was open to it, Lux would be only too happy to tutor her through any gaps in knowledge that Jinx's upbringing might not have given her the opportunities to learn and introduce her to the joy of books and reading. Lux is a big old book nerd and the kind of person who'll babble excitedly about the latest story she's read or scientific theory she's heard about for hours.

Jinx listens to her excited nerd rambles with chin hands and eyes aglow. If it was anyone else she'd be bored out of her brain, but Lux makes boring beautiful.

#lightcannon #jinx #luxanna crownguard #lux #arcane #jinx x lux #arcane jinx #league of legends #lol jinx #arcane netflix #ao3 fanfic

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fea-resources · 25 days ago

Text

Unhinged Discord Commentary As RP Starters Pt. 1

*throws sparkles everywhere* This is how you cheer someone up, right?

There's some places you don't want sparkles.

Shame on the lame.

I didn't run into a wall this time. I ran into the fridge.

How can one go through life never saying words like "sexy" or "sexual". Like, what else would you say? "Intercoursy"? "Intercoursal"?

Okay but where are their NOSES.

Why is that cute? Science explain please.

RABBIT STEW FOR THE RABBIT STEW GOD.

The horse confirmed for a necrophiliac.

Let the bear and horse be together.

Horse x Bear forever.

He's a slut. All you need to know.

Slap a sexy bunny suit on his ass. Go. Live out your dreams.

He's a slut, not a stripper.

*throws a brick* Stay down this time.

Love is like a machine… sometimes you need a good screw to fix it.

Hey good lookin', what's cookin'? Get it? Because I'm an arsonist.

I'd really like to thump your bible.

I'm agnostic but damn I'm pretty sure that's blasphemy.

You'd be surprised how many are curious to taste human flesh.

Well I didn't say he was a slut without talent.

That may be but [Name] just might kill him with embarrassment first.

He never counted on SEX APPEAL. Should've sent a lesbian, not a gay.

Oh, I'm still gonna fuck with your assets. Emphasis on the Ass.

Well that's good. I hear murder is frowned upon.

THIS IS NOT WHAT I WAS PROMISED. SUPER HAPPY FUN TIME OVER.

You tell me. You're the one tryna serenade me to bed and then stab me, ya kinky fuck.

I trusted you! …not sure why since we, like… just met.

CLOSE YOUR EYES SO I CAN KILL YOU.

Are you telling me you don't want adventure, glory, and best of all, FIERY DEATH?

Adventure and glory sound nice but… I don't know about that last part. I'll get back to you on that one.

The answer is "Yes" cuz let's be real, bards only immortalize the ones that die.

In other news I didn't think it was possible to almost choke on a hiccup yet here we are.

"You had accountability issues as a child"… wait, do you actually think I outgrew those?

I probably committed more blasphemy than anyone else in that whole building but damn it was fun.

One day [Name's] gonna hit just the wrong nerve and I'm gonna grab that scarf and strangle them with it.

Let grandpa bemoan his age.

May the salt be with you.

The mosquitos never bother me and everyone asks why and I tell them its because I have too much salt flowing through my veins.

*chugs a whole jar of pickle juice without breaking eye contact*

Consume them. C O N S U M E.

I changed my mind, that's Plan C. We're skipping B.

That was bad and you should feel bad. But I know you won't, so I don't know why I said it.

I've been laying here like a jellyfish on the beach for an hour but sleep is just not happening.

Yes, I had to. I would literally die if I didn't do it. I'd explode. Poof. It'd be awful. [Name] bits everywhere.

Wanna help me shove a slut into a volcano?

Man, I almost didn't have to be a Top for once but SOMEONE. TRIED TO KILL ME.

I would say to stab [Name] but then I remember that he likes it.

I'll bet a dick up the ass that you can't beat me.

Don't fuck where, fuck me.

…thanks. I totally. Feel so much better now. About my impending doom.

Man, it really sucks down here. I pity you, small man.

Small enough to reach places in a time of crisis? Yeah, except in the crisis of reaching the top shelf.

Well I know what rabbits do to anything that holds still long enough. But do continue.

Needs more well-cooked faces.

Now I know why my parents sheltered me.

*confused rabbit squawking*

That may be so but I'm not the one with a thing for the head fucker.

Instruction manual: do not buy the [Name] pet if you are not prepared to say "god damn it" at least twice per day.

This is going to get me killed, oh god yes.

HOW DARE YOU SSS-SSSSS-SSSS-SSSPEAK THE TONGUE OF MY SSSS-SSS-SSSSSSSS-SSSNAKE PEOPLE 🐍

I salted my head off to Hell and back the other day so now its your turn.

Hold my acupuncture pins.

Fuck them and rescue the high horse they rode in on because that horse doesn't deserve to be ridden by them.

It's mid-June, yet I can't feel my toes.

Just chant "shadow no shadowing" three times. It worked on the dog.

I had to read it three times because the first two times I read it as "his mum is IN the ground" and I was like… wow, that's dark, and then I realized it said his mum IS the ground.

Hey, I'm not judging, except… no, wait, I'm totally judging.

Don't know what you're talking about there, Salty McSalterson.

So you know that one night in minecraft we were rushing to get back home and got ourselves and the path blown to Hell by creepers? I went to fill those holes in and guess what shows up as I'm working on filling them with no way out.

I'd say they should put their dukes up but tell them to put their leggies up instead because that's all they have.

So would this be a bad time to say "its the thought that counts"?

A baby? I don't have time for a baby. I can barely handle my own job. Babies are trouble. Put it in the mailbox and send it back, and if I see a head or a leg sticking back out, you are gone.

Devour him! ...Imeanwhat. Sorry, what, no cannibalism here.

They seem like a Diapers-Until-6-Years-Old kinda person.

Can we be like. Drugged-pot-hippies-but-not-really-high together?

Earlier I was like "I'm worried" and another person told me "you need to stop worrying, it's concerning".

Bright eyed and bushy tailed is a squirrel on crack.

So… death = normally taboo cuddles and affection? I should die more often.

Cuddleslut Mode Activated.

Help me sink [Name] to the bottom of the ocean. I don't know where s/he went wrong but I'm ending them.

I'm sorry that s/he's probably gonna corrupt the shit out of [Name], but conversely, [Name]'s not sorry at all.

'What AREN'T we up to?' is a better question. What we're up IN is the answer.

Screw you and your fricking long legs!

Listen to that wind moan. Wind doesn't have hands but it does blow.

Maybe a chair to the face will quiet them down.

So where do I get these highs you have? It must be nice.

I have no idea where my highs come from. They just pop in and serenade you and then sneak off the next morning like a filthy hoe after a good night of steamy sex-- I have no idea what I'm saying anymore A LO HA OOOIIIIII...

Don't you dare moan you sinner!

#RP Prompt #RP Memes #Roleplay Meme #Roleplay Memes

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mirandyficlists · 1 year ago

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Hi hi! I’d like to know what your Top 10 Holy Grail fics are? Like I’m talking about fics you would reccommend in a heart beat, fics that you feel are written extremely well that they feel like they should be published or something, fics that have really good pacing, right amount of fluff, angst, or smut. Or even ones that are just silly and fun. It would be cool to read some of your favs!

Hey Nonnie

First my standard answer to the top ten query...10!!! 10!!! You think i can narrow it down to 10!! LOLOLOL

Secondly, I'm flattered you want to know my preferences as a guide...but then that's what my spreadsheet is all about I guess. lol

Okay I did manage to keep myself to 30 fics and I will say I would live quite happily if the first 10 were all I was ever allowed to read for the ret of my life. Just saying. Heh

I've also included my reviews of each fic from my Spreadsheet of 2250+ Mirandy fics to explain my love for the fics.

If you want the fics that are no longer online just message me privately with your email and I'll send my zipped file of deleted Mirandy fics your way.

Happy Reading Nonnie

All the Breast

XVNot15

Top ten and why?

The Lady And Her Dragons by Bearblue https://archiveofourown.org/works/21738811/chapters/51860098

(WIP) OMG!!!!!!!!!! So amazingly wonderful and magical and well just damned hot! Full of myth and magic, Miranda and Cruella are real Dragons and Andy is their Lady. Magical machinations and battles ensue. The story is compelling and Bearblue controls the content of magical information absolutely beautifully, you're interest is captured, but you're not over whelmed with more information than what is required for the story she is telling. Again it has to be said. OMG!!! I have now read this fic over 500 times…and I mean that! Have read it once a week and sometimes 2 or 3 times a week for more than a decade.

Truth and Measure by Telanu https://archiveofourown.org/works/779826/chapters/1468543

The downfall of my anti Mirandy life that dragged me kicking and cursing into the heart of the Mirandyverse. This is what I call a Simchat Torah story. Much like the holiday in which the last chapter of Torah is read and then the first chapter immediately afterward to start the cycle again. And that's just what I did with this one. Miranda discovers after the separation with Stephen that she is pregnant and as she copes with that Andy helps her and eventually Miranda proposes a mutually beneficial relationship...which Andy then proceeds to turn on its head almost immediately. Excellently written and adored the characterisations of both women.

It’s All Relative by Hawkbehere https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884348/chapters/13561771

OMFG!! This is an amazing story. Well written and excellently paced as well. Post Paris H/C piece where Miranda is shot and Andy runs to her side to help and care for her.. A very complex and interesting characterisation of both M and A. The hints at Sub/dom with true love and respect were pitched absolutely meltingly perfect And the passion of Miranda's need for Andy is mind blowing.

Small Favors Series by Chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793701/chapters/6270377

Andy wins a press award and sees Miranda. They talk and Andy acknowledges her feelings to herself. Andy sends a lily as a thank you. Hot first kiss in the conference room at the Mirror. The girls are very supportive as the relationship develops. INTERLUDE - Hot late night quickie in Miranda's office. BEAUTIFUL THINGS - sees the development of the relationship through some early rough spots. They're outed by Miranda's PR firm. Loved the twins with their pudding balloon bombs. HERE TO STAY - GOOD FORTUNE –

Fur No Thanks I’d Rather Go Naked by Writtensword (Deleted but I have the fic and can send it.)

Ooooooooooo so totally wonderful this story read it 3 times one after the other. Miranda is magically turned into a Mink and only Andrea can hear her speak and she takes care of her as they try to undo the spell. The characterisation of Mink Miranda is sooooooooooooooo terrific I want more Mink tales. heh Lovely denoument when Miranda turns back to her human form.

Like Andrea Series by Ginstan https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940092

Ooooooooooooooo romance, mystery, intrigue and damn fine writing! Loved this fic! Andy is alerted to the fact that Miranda needs help when Runway does an edition where every single model looks like her. She comes to Miranda's rescue and their relationship develops super fast and super beautifully.. And beautiful mini FOL crossover! heheh I adore the characterisations of a vulnerable Miranda and a very soft butch Andy.

A Failure to Communicate by thelastgoodname https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300144

Miranda decides to Marry Andy and is busy dictating the plans to Andy just one problem... She hasn't actually asked Andy out on a date yet or anything else. Cue a very confused Andy and a backpeddling Miranda. Ohhh my aching sides!!!! This is just soooooooooooo funny and sooooo well written.It's just brilliant!

Admiration by Punky_96 https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936337

Swooooooooooon!! Total romance and way HOT sex too! Miranda has a secret (not to us though) admirer who is leaving her daily gifts and notes. She becomes smitten and isn't quite sure until the big reveal. Beautifully written and I loved it, but it ends rather abruptly.

The Brutal Truth by Redcharcoal (Removed as it was published…both are AWESOME! FF is available in the FB Mirandy Group and in my deleted fic file.)

Wonderfully well written piece. Miranda claims to only want the Brutal truth and ends up having a bet with Andrea that she can't get an exclusive interview with a famous designer and the stakes are one day of absolute honesty for Andrea and one week for Miranda. Andy outs Stephen as a predator and Miranda fires her...but then she gets the exclusive interview with the Deuchamps and they become her friends.

Miranda’s Runway series by Jehc https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242412/chapters/2552452

Oh the joy of a well written and well crafted characterisation piece. Love this 4 years post Paris piece with Andy having a daughter she has actually named Miranda but who she calls Mandy who is somehting of an artistic prodigy. Andy has written a series of amazingly successful books on fashion but remains anonymous until she trades her privacy to foil Irvs latest almost successful coups against Miranda. Things follow on from there, when little Mandy meets Randa and they fall for each other as hard as Miranda falls for Andrea. Amazing fic.

The Fall and the Landing & 90 Days to Glory by Brithna/Ash_Mountain https://archiveofourown.org/works/481161

Warning: Character Death. My God almighty what a powerful piece of writing! This is not fanfiction, this is life, this is the most skillful playing of all that it is to be human, fragile, and to hold friendship and love as the reward for the pain and challenge that those prizes intrinsically bring with them. Have tissues ready, and be prepared to read with your heart and know that love is the force that truly connects all life.

On a Tractor by Bearblue https://archiveofourown.org/works/11696331/chapters/26333922

OMG! Absolutely brilliantly written long post Paris piece. Andy lends up inheriting a farm which she decides to run and she becomes quite the nature photographer as well. Miranda wants her farm for a photoshoot and goes out to visit and things take their natural course. Bear's writing is incredibly fluid and tinglingly evocative. Love the characterisation of Andy in this one. A Simchat Torah - immediate re-reader.

Break it Down With Joy by Winter156 https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394080

A drabble that is sheer perfection. A and M are friends, Andy has declared her love but Miranda has stated that they will never have a physical relationship, Andy stays anyway, suffering the pain of incompleteness, until that moment of decision. Excellently written, and soooo poignant.

By Heart by Chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673044/chapters/5976851

Swooooooooooon, mushfest!! With lovely hot sexiness too. A H/C tale where Andy ends up with a broken leg on a ski weekend and Miranda cares for her in their cabin as they get snowed in for a couple of days and the heating fails heheh. But there is a fireplace and while 'keeping warm' one thing leads to another.

Basic Black by Beachbum https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045490

Brava BB, a lovely piece set post Paris. Nigel who has stayed friends with Andy decides to play matchmaker for the two women in his life. The description of Andy's suit was totally droolsome. And the love scene, wow, took my breath away. Loooooooooved the ending, god Miranda in nothing but a white dress shirt, but still so totally confident and in control of the situation. Yowsa!!

Disarming Athena by Politic X https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921940/chapters/26942895

Wonderful but sometimes distressing psychological exploration that occurs between Miranda and Andy. Many of the interactions take place in the elevator. Miranda appears to be torturing Andy with invitations and demands for her to touch her clothes but not her. Then she fires Andy and this behaviour continues as Andy works her notice. Eventual happy ending.

Hidden Yet Bright by needled_ink https://archiveofourown.org/works/97340

Swoooooooooooooon, a beautiful and well written short of a developing friendship gently shifting into more but without strings. Loved the chartacterisations of both Andy and Miranda.

In Some Quite Casual Way by Winter156 https://archiveofourown.org/works/621060/chapters/1120824

Holy mother of mountains what a fic. From a request for a story that involved a character with wings. Miranda is a fallen angel of sorts and saves Andy when she falls out a skyscraper window. Declarations of love, and serious sweaty snugglebunnies followed by major storyline and escellent denouement. Gret writing, amazing story, just amazing.

Lost Treasures by Jazwriter (Removed as it was published…both are AWESOME! FF is available in the FB Mirandy Group and in my deleted fic file.)

Wow! Andy works as a sales clerk and then a Window dresser in a small boutique. Her window designs cpature Miranda's attention and fascination. She takes Andy under her wing and mutual attraction sparks. Great little fic.

Objects and Space by Stormashke https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126698

Absolutely Stunning!!!! Compellingly written with just the right meter and timing. Wonderful internal dialogue from Miranda's pov in an established relationship. She travels through the different rooms of the house noting the evidence of Andy's presence that still bug her…but also noting their indications of Andy's space in her heart and the twins heart and the things she will live with in that space of love.

Rebellious Lock & When Locks Get Locked by Quiethearted http://ralst.com/RebelliousLock.HTM

Ohh soooooooo funny!!!! Miranda's hair has a mind of it's own and it's concentrating on one particular brunette. This is comic writing at it's best. I'm still chuckling.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeee, sequel! Woohoo, Miranda's hair has awakened an interest from Andy's hair and all is set for the clash of the tresses. Oh soooo wonderfully funny, I so hope this series continues, I want postcoital follicle frolics. Heheh

Sharp Relief by chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672990/chapters/5976701

AMAZING fic!!!!! Wow Andy gets a call reporting that Miranda has died in a car crash on her way to her weekend cabin. She goes into shock and faces the fact of how much she loved her. She helps with the twins and stays at the townhouse until there is another call that send her and the girls out into the night chasing a hope agaisnt hope. So amazing this.

The Lily and the Crown by Telanu (now published) https://archiveofourown.org/works/750438/chapters/1400746

Andren is the reclusive daughter of one of the Empires most capable Station Masters. Assistant - her new slave is the dread space Pirate Queen Mir. Seduction, debauchery, abandonment and redemption in this Space Swashbuckler.Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Gaaawwwwwwwwwwwwwwdddddddddd!!!!!!!!! Wow!!!! Fluids!!!!!!! This is just soooooooooooo wonderfully hot and romantic and hot and well good god I loved it. Okay, perhaps the Andren character was a little bit tooo clueless, but perhaps wonderfully evocative of another time. Still it was a great story and really interesting.

Unexpected Grace by Silverie https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9092005/1/Unexpected-Grace

Amazingly well written fic starting with amazing dream sequances of ancient days and a Goddess/priestess Miranda, perfectly mirrored in a waking world of events. Andy expands her life into music when she comes to own a beautiful guitar decorated with a dragon...linking to her desire for a certain dragon lady. Lyrically written. Brilliant!!!!

A not exactly storybook romance by writetherest https://archiveofourown.org/works/923207/chapters/1793725

An AU where Andy is independently wealthy and owns a book store which Cassidy starts to visit daily as Andy befriends her. Eventually Miranda and she meet and after a bad decision it's a wonderfully sweet love story. Absolutely wonderful romance done here, adore the shier sweeter Andy.

Farsighted by emeraldorchids https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129537/chapters/14047437

Excellent mid length piece. All from Miranda's pov, chronicling how she and Andrea slip into a wonderful and easy friendship after Paris, that several months later morphs into more. What I love is the realness of Miranda in this fic as a full fledged human being all balance and counter balance with strengths and weaknesses. And I enjoyed the reality check and stunned Miranda after Andy kisses her. As well as the gradual exploration afterward. The upshot with the page six comment picture in bed is a perfect ending.

Four Corners by Chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039309/chapters/2073686

Truth be told, this is a ten star effort. I looooved it! A phenomonally wonderful piece, well written and amazingly characterised. All told from Cassidy's pov as she lives her parents divorce, the advent and demise of Stephen and the new and wonderful inclusion of Andy in her mother's and the twins lives.

Caught Between the Moon and New York City Series by Punky_96 https://archiveofourown.org/series/1027544

Brilliant story of Miranda as a werewolf and pack leadercaptured by a secret research facility that captures and studies paranormal creatures where Andy works. Grat adventure unfolds as they escape and Andy's true nature is discovered. Excellently written and intriguing backstory.

After Dark by LiteraryAssasin https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560673/chapters/48807857

A wonderfully characterised slow burn, friends to lovers fic. Well written and engaging of course, from an excellent bard. Andy grows a backbone in the best and most proactive way…almost swapping some of her softness for some of Miranda’s firmness so that they can both balance themselves and each other. I adored Miranda’s oh so careful way of helping Andy while trying also not to overwhelm her with that help. A nifty little sub pairing of a mirrored couple is so seamlessly done it’s just amazing. Also touches on an idea I’ve had for quite some time…may have to dust that one off.

If and When by Kamuraskan https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821418/chapters/29271045

WOOT!!! No greater love hath a Bard for another Bard than to make an offering in a completely unfamiliar fandom. (Thanks Gin.) Most wonderfully well written and amazing Disaster/survival fic. Andy uncovers a terrorist plot to blow up the EC building the night the VP is attending a party there. She isn't believed by Homeland security so she approaches the new CEO of EC...Miranda they manage to evacuate the building but are still on the 20th floor when the bombs go off....suspense, love and amazingness commence.

#mirandy fic searches #mirandy fic search #mirandy fanfiction #mirandy

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