#I have no social life unless I take a day off work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 25 days

Note

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else.

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places.

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize.

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in.

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to.

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods.

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own.

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly, and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things -

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s?

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous?

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions.

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself.

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic.

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side.

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?”

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary.

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know?

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.”

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?”

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.”

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad.

“I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper.

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew.

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip.

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?”

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face.

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?”

#spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert

640 notes · View notes

die-pink-maus · 2 months

Text

Some Canon/Not So Canon König💋HeadCanons💋 (NSFW Included • MDNI)

AN: These Are Just my thoughts and opinions of what I imagine König would be like IRL. I divided everything up into sections and there is a whole section dedicated to NSFW headcanons, so PLEASE…MDNI this is for the adults. Also, there is great mention of the words “wife” and “girlfriend” as I write this from the perspective of a woman.

Likes, Reblogs, & Positive Comments Are Greatly Appreciated 🫶🏼

Some MORE Canon/Not So Canon König 💋Headcanons💋 HERE

Enjoy! 💋

🪖General Personality/Physical Appearance🪖

♡ Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think König is 6’10, he’s definitely gigantic but I would put him at around 6’5 - 6’7.

♡ Also contrary to popular belief, I do genuinely think that social anxiety and overall insecurity is something he grows out of overtime. While overcoming all of this was no easy feat, he’s learned to be more self assured and makes sure everyone Around him knows that he is HIM. His confidence really shines through in his duties as Colonel and his physical capabilities. Some may view him as cocky or arrogant, but he’s just really proud of the work he’s done on himself 🤷🏼‍♀️

♡ He’s definitely a HUGE nerd, but he wears that shit with pride. He loves reading classic literature, is great at math, and probably plays dungeons and dragons. Definitely spends hours on end finishing puzzles and building shit for his cats 😂

♡ Muscular AF. Huuuuge muscular arms, toned chest and defined thighs. I don’t think he has “washboard” abs, you can see them mainly when he flexes, his tummy is a bit soft 🥰 He goes to the gym at least 5 days a week

♡ Despite wearing a mask, I think König is more than likely very handsome. Strong jawline, chiseled facial features, a perfectly imperfect smile. He’s probably got an old school charm about him, the kind that can make a woman weak in the knees with just one look, especially with those eyes 😮‍💨

♡ 100% a cat Dad. Most likely has an unhinged orange cat and a black cat. In general I think he adores animals and spends most of his free time with his cats

♡ Veeeeeerrry good with money. Has been saving since he joined the military and treats himself and his girlfriend or wife to many luxuries. He 100% loves to spoil the people he loves and has prepared so that they never have to want for anything.

♡ Comes off stone cold until you get to know him, but it’s mostly because he has RBF without his mask 🤣

♡ Tells like…really bad dad jokes that he can’t finish without laughing hysterically, and his laugh is so insane that it causes others to laugh

♡ He’s definitely happiest at home. He’s an introvert, but can and will go out and socialize if he needs to. Prefers a gathering at a friend or family members house as opposed to a bar or club

♡ Loves his Bier. Will usually have one after a long day of training recruits while he watches some random show he stumbled on while flipping channels.

♡ If he gets drunk everyone knows because he will start going on and on about how much he loves the people he’s around, which is something they don’t hear too often, if at all, unless you are his wife or girlfriend

💗In a Relationship/Family Life💗

♡ Again, lol, contrary to popular belief…I think König would be more attracted to a woman with voluptuous curves. Not too petite and not too curvaceous, but somewhere in between.

♡ König would be the best boyfriend ever…but he’d also be stubborn af.

♡ When arguing with his SO, he’ll often get frustrated easily and kinda shut down, but once he takes a few minutes to himself to think things through, he really enjoys communicating and having an open dialogue about whatever you were fighting about

♡ CUDDLES GALORE. He wants to be all over his girl at allllll times. Not really one for extreme PDA, but behind closed doors he cannot seem to get his hands off of you.

♡ Loves when you cook for him, and loves to cook for you. Loves it even more when you cook together!

♡ Expensive gifts for absolutely no reason at all. Will literally stand behind his SO as they browse their favourite stores online and take mental notes of the things you say you like. Don’t be surprised when that $2000 hand bag you adored shows up at your front door.

♡ Is an incredible father. Prides himself on being a hands on dad. Will do practically anything for his children, and teaches them German at a very young age. Ensures they are well equipped to handle the bullshit life may throw at them, but tries his best to prevent any of said bullshit from coming their way.

♡ Never yells at his wife or their children. Generally hates conflict and will do what he can to resolve anything.

♡ His wife/girlfriend is the most important thing in the world to him. He would do anything for her, and anything to protect her

♡ 100% scary bf privilege. You can go out and do whatever you please and no one fucks with you because they know König is only a call or text away and he can and will get rid of you without anyone even noticing

😈In the Bedroom😈

♡ Remember when I said he was gigantic? His height isn’t the only thing I’m talking about 😩😮‍💨🤭 That man is blessed and highly favoured.

♡ He’s at least 8 inches hard, uncut, and veiny. He doesn’t shave everything off, but he always ensures he’s well groomed.

♡ He loves making love to you, but he loves fucking you even more.

♡ Passionate as fuck. Worships every inch of your body from head to toe.

♡ He loves to tease his SO. Spends as much time as he can getting to know just what gets her hot. Watching every jolt of her body as his lips suck on certain spots. Listening to every moan and whimper as his fingers grope and squeeze her soft flesh. He wants you to be so wet you’re practically begging to take every inch of his massive cock, and even then, he won’t give it to you until you ask for it in German 🤭

♡ Could spend hours eating your pussy. Wants to make sure you cum at least 5 times before he even thinks about getting himself off. He will eat you out any time, anywhere — bedroom, laundry room, kitchen counter, you name it

♡ Loves the look on your face when you see him in uniform. He knows it gets your heart racing, and he loves fucking you with his sniper hood on.

♡ He adores the look on your face as his long thick rod stretches you open. The widening, glossy eyes, your mouth hung slightly open as his hardness fills your tight wet pussy.

♡ He loves talking dirty. “I know you like that.”, “is this what you wanted?”, “good girl, look at you taking this fat cock so well”, “such a good little slut”

♡ He loves getting rough, so long as you allow it. He loves choking you while he’s balls deep inside you, grinding his thick tip against your cervix as you let out small breathless moans

♡ Loves watching how small you are beneath him, loves watching your tits bounce up and down as he ploughs his cock into you over and over

♡ Loves watching your ass jiggle as he slams into you from behind, your hair wrapped around his wrist as he fucks you mercilessly

♡ Loves fucking you in front of a full length mirror so you can see how pretty you look taking his long fat cock

♡ Loves cumming inside you or in your pretty little mouth, on your knees while you look up at him and swallow his seed like a good girl 😍

♡ Provides the BEST aftercare. Takes a nice warm bath or shower with you, carrying you off back into bed once you’ve dried off. Plenty of cuddles in those big strong arms of his, and lots of head/cheek kisses. Whispered praises of how amazing you are, and how much he loves you. Will bring up some of your favourite snacks or chef up an entire meal for afterwards

792 notes · View notes

unbidden-yidden · 9 months

Text

Honestly at this point, I'm really uninterested in hearing any gentile's "critique" of Judaism.

Whatever it is, whatever you're about to say, I am 1000% certain that at least one Jew has already raised this issue in ways that are thoughtful and centered in respect for other Jews. Probably lots of Jews; possibly whole theological movements. It's even possible that this particular topic has been under active discussion for hundreds or even thousands of years.

Someone has already said this better than you will. Someone has already raised whatever issue you have and grounded it in their own experiences of having lived a Jewish life.

So just leave it to us. Just stop. You're not helping. At best you're white-knighting, at worst you're actively contributing to an antisemitic majority culture.

"Well I've never seen Jews discussing [x] topic!" Your ignorance is not reality. These conversations are happening, possibly offline and at our Shabbos tables or shuls only, but they are happening.

"Well [x] topic impacts me personally!" Does it? Does it really? Because unless you live in Israel or Palestine, no Jewish group - no matter how seemingly numerous we may be in your city or neighborhood - is actually powerful enough to affect large-scale (or even typically small-scale) changes. Our fundamentalism is, for better or worse, directed at other Jews. The most intense thing I've heard of outside of Israel is a community getting together to petition the city to allow an eruv or a concentrated effort to make a few neighborhood blocks particularly Jewish because they're within walking distance of an orthodox shul. All other issues - no matter how ugly the opinions - are something that is part of much larger social trends that unfortunately some Jews happen to be engaging in. We'll deal with them; you focus on your people.

"I'm just listening to ex-fundamentalist Jews and white-knighting trying to help them be heard and not shouted down!" So first of all, if you knew anything about this topic, they typically call themselves OTD (which I'm sure you know what that stands for, because you've been listening) and secondly, great! You should listen to them. But their critiques are not your critiques. I can go on all day long about my family and their bullshit, and I can even (sometimes) appreciate you chiming in supportively. But it hits different when you go off chattering to other people about how my family is bullshit.

"Okay fine - I'm taking all that in and accept that my critiques aren't wanted, but what CAN I do, since I am literally vibrating in place about how Those People Over There Are Wrong and cannot simply ignore them?" Best thing you can do? Honestly? Learn about Judaism thoroughly from a variety of people, and learn how to be a good ally against antisemitism in all the spaces you want us in. Judaism not feminist enough for you? Learn how to make your feminist spaces safe and welcoming for Jews. Judaism not queer or trans enough for you? Learn how to make your queer and trans spaces safe and welcoming for Jews. Whatever movement you think we're not supporting enough or not showing up for enough, or whoever it is you think we're oppressing? Find the Jews who are doing that work (they exist, I promise) and listen to what they tell you about how to make your spaces be better.

#look - I'll engage in these conversations with specific goyim on my terms #but that's for me to decide

1K notes · View notes

imagine-shenanigans · 4 months

Text

sighs dramatically.

Okay but the ghost distribution system as we call it is hysterical but can we tlak about how None Of The 141 are built to date.

Like, sure, Gaz is great at flirting, and he's charming, but DATES? He's the type who asks you on a date because he thinks youre pretty/handsome/adorable/etc but by the time the two of you actually go on a date he's ready figured out like. the whole rest of your lives together. He's already imagined up 20 different scenarios of different dates, stalked your front-facing social media and found your secret or hidden accounts that theoretically don't link back to you. Sure, he's scrounged through your discord servers and your private messages and texts and a thousand other things while he was bored on leave. He knows enough to know that he's happy with what comes next. All dates are simply... ritual at this point? Something obligational, other than the fact he gets to spend time with you.

You're not going anywhere, he's just the least heavy handed of them, the one who'll let you think its your choice to keep him around until he's got his ring officially on your finger. Life won't go according to plan but he's prepared for that too. In his head, you're already married anyway, he's just working his way up to that part. He'll manufacture any scenario to keep you with him, because he wants you to be. And he'll make sure you want to be too.

Soap on the other hand is WAY less tactful about it. He's charming, and he'll take you on dates, sure, but the moment he spots you it's incredibly easy to get obsessed. He immediately drops an arm around you, purring in your ear and talking to you. Doesn't ask you on a date so much as demands it, puts his number in your phone and presses a kiss to your temple, his fingertips squeezing your chin before you leave. God forbid you let him into your home - he'll never leave if you do. Johnny's SUCH a physical guy that while, yes, personality matters, it seals the deal for him the moment he's got his tongue down your throat and his fingers in your pants. Something about the way you settle in against him makes him feel like he's home, and you will never get rid of him.

He's willing to take you on dates if you need more proof, but he won't even pretend like he doesnt already have a copy of your key. Like he's not telling the guys about the bonnie little thing he's going home to - he slips into your apartment/house/etc and into your bed without changing, barely finding time to slip his boots off. Presses one hand to your mouth and just... holds you. He'll fuck you within an inch of your life later when you're less panicked, sure, but he just wants to press his nose to your neck and breathe you in. If his hips rut against your ass, ignore it for now. (Haha... unless? No? okay in a minute then)

Price is just as manipulative as Gaz can be, just as charming as Soap and Gaz too. But he just... doesn't care, just like Simon. There's a reason so many people have Price with like... mail order bride or a "one day you look up and hes your husband" scenario and thats because he's good at what he does. And by that I mean being a husband and pumping you full of kids whether or not its physically possible. (Btw check out Ceil's mail order bride western au its good shit, or Bo's Kingpin Price drabbles, makes me lose it every time.)

He sees you walking about and the MOMENT you do anything remotely domestic - pick up a neice/nephew/babysitting kid/etc and put em on your hip? Rock hard. play peekaboo with a baby across from you at a cafe? pick up after yourself just to be polite to the waitress? he's already stalking you on multiple platforms theres no goddamn way youre getting away from him. He'll figure out where you go in your free time and insert himself there as naturally as possible. He's not particularly hiding what he's doing either - he likes to test you, to see if you notice things missing or moved. If you do, he'll be a little more cautious, use it as reason to drive you into hsi arms. If you don't he jsut views it as all the more reason to take you away - poor thing, you just can't help yourself can you? You're lucky nobody else has got their claws around you, hm?

#price cod #gaz cod #soap cod #cod #strawberry writing

564 notes · View notes

hotvintagepoll · 4 months

Text

Propaganda

Harry Belafonte (Carmen Jones, Island in the Sun)—one of my favorite things in the world when I'm sad is kicking back and listening to him and Danny Kaye singing "Hava Nagila" together. Or who can forget this man singing the Banana Boat song with the Muppets?? immensely talented, a powerful fighter for civil rights and humanitarian causes his whole life, if you have any remaining doubts PLEASE look at the following pics [clips and pics attached below]

Buster Keaton (The General, The Navigator, Sherlock Jr.)—For me Buster’s hotness comes not just from his physical beauty but in the constant surprise and contradictions of the man, he’s simultaneously delicate/rough, feminine/masculine, confident/vulnerable, 5foot5 pretty face with an unexpectedly deep voice, at first glance you think oh he’s a cute little thing and then he takes his top off and it’s Superman abs underneath. He was intensely shy in social situations but had no hesitation in jumping off the top of a building. He famously never smiled on screen* but he exudes warmth and joy and laughter. He created some of the most beautiful, intelligent movies ever made but refused to acknowledge his own genius and talent as an artist, instead maintaining that all he wanted to do was make people laugh. If he was here in reality competing in this poll he would give it 100% but he would not be at all bothered if he didn’t win. And that’s why he’s the hottest vintage man. A vote for Buster is a vote for all that is good and decent in the world 💕 (*he did smile on camera occasionally despite his own assertions to the contrary 😄)

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Buster Keaton propaganda:

"Just look at his freaking face...."

This entire Tumblr page was submitted

This post

This video

"And for those who have never heard it, here’s his lovely voice in action: link"

Submitted: Link to Buster Keaton car stunts

Submitted: BK fancam

Submitted: quotes about BK video compilation

"Ripped body, gorgeous unique face, beautiful personality too"

youtube

Harry Belafonte propaganda:

youtube

"Now let me say this about the songs of the Caribbean - almost all black music is deeply rooted in metaphor. The only way that we could speak to the pain and anguish of our experiences was often through how we codified our stories in the songs that we sang. And when I sing the 'Banana Boat Song,' the song is a work song. It's about men who sweat all day long, and they are underpaid, and they're begging the tallyman to come and give them an honest count - counting the bananas that I've picked, so I can be paid. And sometimes, when they couldn't get money, they'll give them a drink of rum. There's a lyric in the song that says, 'Work all night on a drink of rum.' People sing and delight and dance and love it, but they don't really understand unless they study the song that they're singing a work song, a song of rebellion." -Harry Belafonte

youtube

#buster keaton #harry belafonte #round 4 #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old man #Youtube

726 notes · View notes

arlana-likes-to-write · 1 year

Text

Family

This story may contain themes that could be triggering.

Summary: When you save the life of the son of the Scarlett Witch and the Black Widow, your life is changed forever. For the first time in a long time you are given a family.

Warning: domestic violence, age difference relationship, rape, gun violence, injuries, miscarriage, manipulation, mention of suicide, DNI unless 18+

Word count: 5.6k

Sometimes you just acted. You didn’t think you just did. So when you were walking on your way to work you saw a young boy run out into the middle of the road, chasing after a ball and the car coming right for him wasn’t stopping, you acted. “Tommy,” You heard a woman yell. You ran to the boy, picking him up in your arms and changing your molecular makeup. The car passed through you and him You brought him back to the sidewalk and as soon as you set him down he became solid.

“Are you okay?” You asked. His eyes grew wide as he stared at you.

“Tommy,” you moved out of the way as a woman with auburn hair pulled him into a hug. “What did I say about not leaving the sidewalk?” You assumed the woman was his mother.

“Sorry Mom,” he said. “I dropped the toy Uncle Tony got me.” A redhead and another young boy joined the duo. You recognized the redhead right away. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow.

“Are you okay, kid?” She asked Tommy. He nodded and hugged the redhead. You looked at the other woman and you were staring into the green eyes of Wanda Maximoff.

“Thank you,” she said to you. “I don’t think we could ever repay you.” You blushed at the compliment, scratching the back of your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. “I was at the right place at the right time.” You knelt in front of the two boys. “Now don’t go playing in the road anymore, okay?” You ruffled their hair. “I won’t be there to save you.” Tommy smiled.

“Thank you,” he said. You smiled, straightening up.

“Wait,” Natasha said, stopping you before you walked away. “At least tell us your name.” You introduced yourself.

“Bye,” you waved, continuing on your way to work.

“You're famous!” Your co-worker, Emilia, said as soon as you walked into the back room. You clocked in and put on your apron. You worked at a 24hr diner. It paid decently and the hours were flexible so you could still go to school.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. She rushed over to you, her phone open to Twitter. Someone took a video of you saving Tommy and put it on social media. Needless to say, the video blew up. You groaned, placing your face in your hands.

“You should read some of these comments,” Emilia said, scrolling through her phone. “I could break a lot of people’s hearts and tell them your 16.”

“Gross,” you mumbled, walking into the kitchen. You heard Emilia close behind as you made yourself a coffee.

“How does it feel saving the kid of the Black Widow and Scarlet Witch?” You didn’t answer. “Were they hot?”

“You know I wasn’t looking,” you said, blowing on the cup before taking a much-needed sip. “I was a little focused on not making sure their son didn’t get killed.” You rolled your eyes.

“I bet they have a Mommy and Daddy kink,” you scrunch your nose.

“You are just as bad as half the people online,” you said. “Come on, we have work to do.” You tried to focus on your duties at the diner; cleaning tables, taking orders, and helping in the kitchen when needed, instead of what happened today. But the universe had other plans. Someone online found where you worked and shared it with the entire world. The diner was packed which was a blessing and a curse. The day flew by and you were leaving with a lot of tips in your pocket. However, you were exhausted since everyone that stepped through the diner wanted to meet and talk to you. They asked you questions about your powers, if you received something for saving him, were your parents proud, did they offer you a spot on the Avenger team. By the end of the day, you collapsed onto your bed thankfully you had the day off tomorrow.

It wasn’t as busy when you came in but you immediately saw the Romanoff-Maximoff family with 2 Avengers you didn’t recognize. You smiled as you walked up to the table. “Staying out of trouble?” You asked the boys. They gasped, turning around in their chairs.

“I don’t know you worked here,” Tommy said, standing up to hug you. You were surprised by that. But you gave him a quick hug back.

“That’s probably because I didn’t tell you,” you tapped his nose which caused him to scrunch it. Natasha introduced you to her sister, Yelena, and her girlfriend, Kate.

“You're the one that saved my nephew,” Yelena said. Her deep Russian accent surprised you. You nodded. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Thank you?” You didn’t mean for it to sound like a question. Wanda chuckled. “Anyways, can I get you guys started with drinks?” You didn’t mean to hover around their table and it wasn’t 100% your fault. Tommy and his brother, Billy, liked to talk your ear off no matter how many times Wanda told them you had other tables to attend to. But you waved her off, saying it was fine. Besides, their colorful imagination was making your shift fly by.

Until the bell went off signaling another customer entered the diner. You looked up out of instinct and almost dropped Kate’s pancakes. It was Jason, your on-again-off-again boyfriend, and housemate. He held the door open for an older couple as his eyes looked for you. It wasn’t hard to find you but you didn’t like the way his eyes screamed that he was upset with you. When he came in he liked you to only have him as your only table. He was best friends with the owner so he could get away with anything. Natasha said your name and you were surprised to see real concern in her green eyes. “Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you put on your best customer service smile but she didn’t seem convinced. “Does everything look good?” A chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘looks good’ echoed from the table. “Perfect! I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything. Enjoy!” You brought back the empty tray to the kitchen before making your way to Jason’s usual spot, trying to calm your raising heartbeat.

It didn’t take a Black Widow spy or an Avenger to notice the change in your demeanor. Natasha watched as you walked over to a man, who had to be twice your age. You were blocking his face but Natasha didn’t like the way he was talking to you. She couldn’t hear the conversation but your shoulders were hunched over, drawing more into yourself. ‘Don’t cause a scene,’ Wanda said, placing a hand on her leg. ‘I don’t like it either.’ Natasha began to eat. The food was always good here but now it tasted bitter.

‘What do we do?’ The Black Widow asked. It took a minute for Wanda to reply as you came back to ask how the food was and if they needed anything. Yelena asked for more hot sauce. You were smiling, laughing at a joke Tommy said but it wasn’t as light. Natasha stole a glance at the man and he was staring at you as if he owned you like you were a possession. It made Natasha’s blood boil. He caught her eyes and quickly looked away.

‘We’ll leave her our number,’ Wanda said. ‘If she needs help she can call us.’ Natasha didn’t like it. She wanted to do more but what else could they do when they had no idea what was going on?

“Here you go,” Natasha passed you the check. “Food and service were amazing as always,” you felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

“Feel free to relax here there is no need to rush out but it was nice seeing you all again,” you said your goodbyes, not leaving the table without getting a hug from the twins. You went to finish cashing them out and you stopped in your tracks. Not because of the very large tip they left you but there was a note.

‘We are a phone call away if you need anything and I mean anything. -Natasha. Her phone number was at the end. You put that copy in your pocket and continued as you normally would, ignoring Jason’s eyes burning a hole in your back.

“You disgust me,” Jason said, throwing you against the wall. You whimpered as you hit your head. Stars formed across your vision. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me.”

“Baby,” you pleaded with him. “It wasn’t like that.” He twisted his hand in your hair, pulling you close.

“Flirting with a married woman twice your age,” he pulled your hair. Another whimper left your lips. “You are a slut.” He threw you against the wooden table. It broke underneath your weight and the force he threw you. “You think you're a big-time hero, now. That you're better than all of us.” You shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks. He kicked you in the stomach so hard you were pushed against the couch.

“Jason, stop, please,” you pleaded with him grabbing onto his leg.

“You don’t get to tell me to stop,” he yelled. “You are mine. I own you.”

You woke up in the apartment alone and with your pants off. Everything ached and there was a light pounding in your skull. Jason was no doubt at a bar. You needed to get out of here. Finding your pants was easy but a sharp cramp in your stomach made you crumble to the ground. Finding some strength, you redressed yourself, found your phone, and walked out of the apartment. You weren’t sure where you were walking to. Your feet moved as your mind was in a haze. There was no place you could go. You were an only child whose parents died during the Blip. The friends you did have moved out of the city or were your co-workers from the dinner but you didn’t want them to see you like this. You sat down on a nearby bench. The pain was becoming all-consuming. You needed help. You unlocked your phone and stared at the recent contact added - Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, an Avenger. Did you want to drag them into this mess? Another shooting pain passed through your stomach as you listened to the phone ring. Maybe she wouldn’t answer and you would have to find a place to sleep tonight. “Hello? Who is this?” She answered on the third ring.

“N-Natasha,” you stuttered out.

“Y/n? Is that you?” You nodded, knowing well she couldn’t see you. “What’s wrong?”

“I need help,” you cried. “I-I d-don’t have anyone else to call. I’m sorry. I-” Your lungs began to hurt, you couldn’t get enough air.

“Hey, sh dorogoy,” Natasha whispered. “Where are you? Wanda and I will come to get you.” You heard rustling on her side of the phone.

“I don’t know,” you told her. “I left my apartment and just walked.” A sharp pain ran through you and gasped. “Everything hurts, Nat,” you cried.

“We will be right there, okay? Just stay right there and use your powers to keep yourself safe.” She told you. “I’m going to stay on the phone with you.”

“Okay,” your voice was slurred. “I’m sleepy.” You found yourself laying down on the bench.

“I know you are but you have to stay awake for me. Can you do that?” She asked. “Talk to me. Tell me about yourself.” You hummed.

“I’m an only child. My parents are dead and I have a tattoo on my spine. I-”

Natasha was listening as she paced her kitchen waiting for FRIDAY to trace the call. She heard three sets of footsteps coming down the stairs, one set much quicker than the other two. “Anything?” Wanda asked. The Black Widow shook her head.

“FRIDAY is still looking for her,” she heard Yelena yawn behind Wanda.

“Why did you wake us up?” Her sister asked.

“You can go back to bed but we need to watch the boys if they wake up,” Wanda explained.

“Is this about the girl who saved Tommy?” Kate asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Natasha nodded.

“I found her,” the AI said. “The location has been sent to your car’s GPS. She is 30 minutes.”

“Sweetheart,” Natasha said to you. “We will be there in 30 minutes.” You hummed.

“Nat,” Yelena said. The redhead looked back at her sister. “Keep us updated.” She nodded and followed her wife to the car. Wanda was already in the driver's seat. It was Natasha’s idea to get their place, close enough to the new Avenger tower but in a nice neighborhood for the twins to grow up in. The only thing Wanda wanted was a big kitchen, the rest was up to the Black Widow. Buying a house cemented the fact this was real to Natasha. She was married, raising two brilliant boys, and retired from active missions. Wanda grabbed her hand, squeezing it. She squeezed it back. She hoped they made it to you in time.

Natasha saw your still body laying on the bench and she was out of the car before Wanda could put the car in park. She hung up and ran over to you, kneeling next to you. “Hey sweetie,” she whispered. Wanda moved next to her. Your eyes fluttered open. A smile on your face.

“You came,” you whispered. Natasha’s heart shattered.

“Yeah, we did,” Wanda smiled. “Let’s get you someplace safe.” You nodded, sitting up and Natasha watched you try to hide the wince. “Can you stand?” You nodded again but when you stood up you collapsed, a pained cry leaving your lips. Natasha caught you in her arms.

“I got you,” your head fell on her shoulder, whimpering as you squeezed your eyes closed. Natasha didn’t miss the red flash in Wanda’s eyes. She only imagined what was going on inside your head.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “So sorry.”

“You do not need to apologize,” the Black Widow said. “I’m going to lift you, okay?” She felt you nod against her skin. She was surprised at how light you were in her arms.

“Nat,” Wanda whispered as they walked back to the car. The witch opened the backseat and the redhead gently lay you down. She closed the door. “She’s bleeding.” Natasha looked at her hands and they were tainted red with your blood.

“We’ll bring her to the tower,” Natasha ran to the other side of the car and got in next to you. She shifted so your head could rest in her lap.

“FRIDAY,” Wanda said to the AI. “Inform Cho we are headed to the tower with a civilian that needs immediate medical attention.” You whimpered.

“You're going to be okay,” the Black Widow whispered. You shook your head.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha watched your eyes flutter close, frowning. You kept muttering apologies as you succumbed to the darkness.

It took a lot for Natasha to let go of you to hand over to Helen and the medical team. She quickly went to the hallway bathroom to wash the blood off. The water turned a light pink. It was part of her job to be surrounded by blood but the sight of your blood on her hands caused her body to heat up with anger. She left the bathroom and found her wife sitting in the empty chairs in the hallway. “The boys are still asleep,” she said as the redhead sat down. “Yelena said she’ll get them ready for school so we can stay.” Natasha nodded, resting her head on the wall. She felt Wanda move her fingers through hers. “It had to be the man from the diner, right?”

“Maybe,” she whispered. They knew nothing about you. The internet seemed to be in love with you for saving Tommy but they didn’t know who you were or what you were a part of.

“I’ll kill him,” Wanda threatened. Natasha saw the tips of her fingers glow red.

“Easy little witch,” She mumbled, kissing the side of her head. “Let’s find out what happened first.” The glow died down. It felt like an eternity before Helen walked out of your room and towards the couple. “Is she okay?” Natasha asked, standing up.

“She will be,” Helen said. “She has 2 broken ribs, a possible concussion, and wood splinters that we had to remove from her arm. She was raped too we did a test,” she sighed, resting her hand on her chin. “Do you know how old she is?” The couple looked at each other shaking their heads. You were a few years older than the twins but not at Kate’s age. That meant you were between 14-18.

“Helen, what’s going on?” The doctor bit her lip.

“She was pregnant,” Natasha’s blood ran cold. “Whatever happened to her caused her to miscarriage.”

“How-how far along was she?” Wanda asked.

“I’m guessing 2 months,” Helen answered. “She’s asleep now. You can go see her and let me know if she needs anything.” They said their thank yous to the doctor and ventured into your room. It was quiet besides the gentle beeping of the heart monitor you were attached to. Natasha didn’t like how still you were beside the gentle rise and fall of your chest. They sat on either side of the bed.

“She’s just a kid, Tash,” Wanda said, brushing some hair out of your face. You didn’t move.

“I know, baby,” Natasha remembered you telling her that your parents were dead. Did you have anyone else? “We’ll be here for her.”

You woke up slowly. The bright lights overhead caused you to groan. “Sweetheart,” you turned your head towards Natasha’s voice. There was a smile on her face, almost motherly. “Hi, how are you feeling?”

“Water,” you whispered. Your throat felt raw and uncomfortable. Natasha brought a cup of water to your lips. You drank all of the water finding relief. “Thank you,” she put the cup down.

“Of course,” you sat up, wincing as you moved but you couldn’t look at Natasha.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you saw her nod her head out of the corner of your eye.

“That’s fine,” she said. “But there are some things we need to talk about regarding your health. We can wait for Wanda if you want,” you nodded.“Hey,” you felt her fingers on your arm. “We are here for you, okay? And whatever happened is not your fault.”

“Okay,” you whispered but you didn’t believe her. It wasn’t long before Wanda returned with a doctor behind her. She introduced herself as Helen and she went over the list of your injuries; broken ribs, a mild concussion, and wood splinters in your arms.

“Now, I have to tell you something that may be hard to hear,” you didn’t like her tone. “You were pregnant for about 2 months but due to the nature of your injuries you had a miscarriage.” You felt the color drain from your face. Pregnant. You were pregnant. You moved your hand over your stomach. Your periods were always irregular so nothing seemed wrong. You weren’t sure what was happening around you. The world around you turned to white noise. You were pregnant, probably with Jason’s child but you made him angry.

“Sweetheart,” you snapped to look at Wanda. She looked worried. “You're safe here. Do you know who the father was?” She asked. You hesitated but nodded. You weren’t 100% sure if it was Jason’s.

“Was he the one that did this to you?” Natasha hesitantly asked.

“It was my fault,” you defended him. “He loves me. He didn’t mean to hurt me.” Wanda whispered your name but you couldn’t look at her. Tears were blurring your vision.

“This isn’t love.”

“Yes it is,” you said. “He loves me and it was my fault -”

“Sweetheart,” Natasha touched your arm but you flinched from her. Her face fell.

“I think I want to be alone,” you told them. The couple glanced at each other, having a silent conversation. “Please.”

“Okay, we know this is a lot,” Wanda said, standing up. “We’ll come back later.” You didn’t acknowledge them as they left your room. You felt cold, so immensely cold, as your fingers danced around your stomach and each injury he gave you. Oh, how you wished your mom and dad were here. You missed your mom’s hugs and the scent that always seemed to calm you down or your dad’s corny jokes that brought a smile to your face. You angrily whipped the tears that fell. The worst part of them being gone, you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.

To your surprise, Wanda and Natasha kept their promise and visited when they could. Their visits ended up being one-sided conversations - mostly them trying to get information on what happened. They asked for your age, Jason’s name and age, and if he worked at the diner. But you remained quiet. Too ashamed to tell them the truth about him. They weren’t deterred by your stand-offish behavior, it somehow made them more determined to make you feel comfortable around them. Rather it was Wanda, Natasha, or both of them, they brought you something. A blanket to keep you warm, books and magazines for you to read, and Tommy’s old DS to keep you entertained. They even contacted your school to explain your situation and collect your missing schoolwork.

It was odd, you had to admit, having people care about you. It didn’t make sense. What did you do to deserve their kindness? You were nobody compared to them. So why were they being so nice?

On a sunny afternoon, the couple snuck in a milkshake and french fries for you to snack on. You were sipping on the chocolate milkshake while Wanda was reading and Natasha looked over a mission report. “I’m 16,” you said to them, breaking the silence. “Technically speaking I was a part of the population that was blipped so I don’t know how that affects my age,” you put your drink down. “During those 5 years, my parents died; my mom from cancer and my dad from suicide. Jason gave me a place to live and food and loved me when I was alone.”

“How old were you when you met Jason?” Natasha asked.

“15,” your voice was barely above a whisper. “He was 25.” You began to play with the loose threads of the blanket they brought you.

“Is this the first time he’s hit you?” Your instinct was to lie like you did with Emilia and everyone else at the diner but it seemed like it was a bad idea to lie to two Avengers.

“No,” you whispered. “But this was the worst. He was mad at me and kept saying it was my fault.”

“What did he say that you did?” You felt your face burn as you remembered why he was upset. “You don’t have to tell us,” Natasha added quickly.

“He was..” Protective. Jealous. “Territorial,” you said. “He didn’t like me talking or flirting with other people. That was a lot of our fights and I stayed because I have nowhere else to go,” you sighed. “I bet you think I’m so stupid.”

“No,” Wanda took your hand in hers. “You are not stupid. He took advantage of you,” you whipped away the tears that fell with your free hand. “You are not alone. We are here.”

“And we aren’t going anywhere.”

When Helen cleared you Natasha and Wanda offered you a room with them. It took a lot of convincing but you moved in with them. Jason all but disappeared. He wasn’t there when you got the few possessions from the apartment and you overheard Natasha and Wanda in the kitchen one night that they still couldn’t find him. As you lived in the Romanoff-Maximoff household you all forgot about him. You forgot what this type of love felt like not having it since you were taken from your family. Wanda made sure all of your homework was done by the time dinner was ready. Natasha seemed to have food on her and she would pass you snacks. She even got you to join her on some of your runs.

It had been 4 months since you moved in with them. “Do you want us to see if Yelena or Kate can come over?” Wanda asked. The twins were playing video games in the living room and you were making a small snack for you and the boys. The couple had to go to the tower for a quick meeting. Although they were retired from active meetings they still help to provide insight. They didn’t like leaving you at home.

“We’ll be fine,” Tommy said.

“Besides Y/n is here,” Billy added. You rolled your eyes as Natasha walked over to you, stealing a grape from the plate. You glared at her.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?” She asked you. You nodded.

“Yes, you said it will be a quick meeting,” you put the extra fruit back in the fridge. “And when you get back you can bitch about how the meeting should have been an email.” Natasha gasped.

“Language,” you smiled, bringing the fruit plate into the living room.

“We know the rules. Don’t worry about us,” you sat on the couch, your feet tucked underneath you, and opened the book you were currently reading.

“Text us if anything happens,” Wanda kissed the twins’ forehead and you were surprised as she kissed yours.

“Bye Mom,” the boys said. You smiled as they left the house. As the door closed Tommy let out a heavy sigh.

“They worry so much.” He said.

“They just care about you,” you defended, not looking up from your book.

“They care about you too,” Billy said. You glanced at the boy and he was looking at you with a smile. You smiled back and went back to reading.

You weren’t sure how long it was but Natasha and Wanda were still not home when the doorbell rang. You looked at the twins but they were engrossed with their video game. “Hey, are your moms expecting someone?” Billy shrugged.

“No clue,” the doorbell rang again. You sighed, closing your book. As you stood up a voice behind the door caused you to freeze.

“I know you're in there, little shadow. Come out to play.”

“Billy, Tommy, go upstairs and call your moms.” Jason started to giggle at the door handle.

“We can help,” Tommy said. They were training powers but they were still unpredictable.

“Go!” You ordered as the front door burst open. Tommy grabbed Billy’s hand and used his super speed to bring them both upstairs. Jason stood there, a pistol in his hand and he looked like he hadn’t bathed or slept in months. You just had to keep him away from the twins and wait till Wanda and Natasha got here.

“Hello beautiful,” he stalked over to you. “You got me in a lot of trouble.”

“Trouble?” You questioned, taking a few steps back with your hands in the air. You wanted to keep some distance from him. “Who are you in trouble with?” He laughed, pointing the gun at you.

“My employers,” his smile still seemed to send a chill down your spine. “Did you think I could ever willingly love you?” He asked. “You were a job, an assignment.” Your heart began to pound against your ribs. Could he hear it? You were backing up into the dining room.

“Who wants me?” You found yourself asking.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’ll be dead and I’ll crave up those little brats for good measure,” you let out a shaky breath and lowered your hands.

“You aren’t getting to them,” you said. “You’ll have to get through me first.”

Natasha was pouring a cup of coffee for her and Wanda. They were taking a short break before finishing up. She felt arms wrap around her waist and the warmth of her wife pressed against her back. “I wanna go home.” She whined. Natasha chuckled, turning around to see Wanda’s noise pinched. She kissed it.

“We are almost done, baby,” she handed Wanda her coffee. “I’m thinking of pizza and movie night?” Her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and saw it was Billy. Showing Wanda the caller ID before putting the call on speaker. “Hi, bud.”

“Mom,” he was whispering and his voice was shaky.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Wanda asked.

“The bad man is here,” he whispered. They weren’t sure what he was talking about. “The bad man that hurt Y/n.” The couple dropped their coffee on the floor and sprinted towards their car. “Please hurry.” A gunshot went off and both of the boys let out a quick squeak.

“Boys, I need you to stay right there,” Natasha said.

“But what if she’s hurt? We can help.”

“Stay hidden. We are on our way.”

Natasha felt her heart beating against her ribs as she saw their door broken down. They called out your name but you didn’t respond. The Black Widow had her gun out as she searched the bottom floor. They made it to their dining room and found a man laying on top of you. Natasha ran over, kicking the man off of you and his body slumped to the side with a bullet wound in his stomach. Your eyes were wide, hands shaking as you held the gun in your hand. “Hey sweetheart,” Natasha put her gun away. “Can I have that?” You nodded, handing her the gun. Natasha removed the magazine from the gun and put it on the ground next to her. Wanda knelt next to you and helped you sit up. Your eyes kept glancing at this still form but Wanda brought you into her arms, sliding you from the body. You were shaking in her arms. Natasha walked over to him and checked for a pulse but she shook her head when she found none. Wanda held you tighter.

“Billy and Tommy,” you whispered. “Are they okay?” Wanda.

“Do you want to go find them?” You nodded. Natasha sent a quick text to Sam and met her wife upstairs. You were waiting for her to emerge from their bedroom and didn’t take long for Wanda to bring out a new shirt for you. Yours had blood on it. You changed quickly, leaving the bloody shirt on the floor, and continued to the guest room. “Billy, Tommy, it’s safe.” The twins didn’t need to be told twice before they ran out of the closet and straight into you. The force knocked you to the ground.

“You can’t do that,” Tommy said, hitting your chest. “Why do you always have to be the hero?” He cried. “We could have helped.” He kept hitting you but his hits got softer while he cried against you.

“Hey,” Natasha said, kneeling and placing a gentle hand on his back. “I know you are feeling a lot but we need to stop hitting her.” You overcame your shock and hugged the twins tight.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” You said.

“But you're our sister,” Billy said. “We can’t lose you.” You looked at Natasha and Wanda at the term Billy called you. The couple smiled at you. They tried to convey all the emotions they were

“I’m right here,” you said. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Wanda walked out of the bathroom with a smile on her face. Her bed was full of Natasha, the twins, and you. The boys were fast asleep, cuddling against you. There was just enough space next to Natasha for her to squeeze in. “We are going to need a bigger bed if this continues to be a thing,” Wanda climbed into bed. Natasha was running her fingers through your hair. “How are you doing, sweetheart?” You shrugged.

“I know he was bad and he would have hurt me or worse the twins but I didn’t want to kill him.” You whispered. Natasha sighed.

“I’m sorry you had to be put in that position,” Natasha said. You nodded, closing your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling of her hand. Wanda gently nudged her wife’s shoulder, nodding her head. “About what Billy said.” Your eyes shut open.

“Like you said there were a lot of emotions,” you shrugged again. Wanda tried to keep her powers at bay but she could feel loneliness washing over you.

“Well, Natasha and I want to make what Billy said official.”

“I’m sorry. What?” You questioned.

“We want to adopt you,” your jaw dropped and Wanda giggled, using her pointer finger to close your mouth.

“Are you serious?” You asked. The couple nodded. Tears swelled in your eyes and without hesitation you jumped up and brought them into a hug.

“Ah,” Billy gasped.

“Is there an Earthquake?” Tommy asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You ended the hug and whipping the tears out of your eyes.

“Nothing,” you said. “Just happy.”

“Alright,” Wanda said. “We need to readjust so I don’t fall off the bed.” It was you in the middle with Tommy and Billy on either side and Natasha and Wanda still on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed as the exhaustion of the day caught up to you.

“No need to thank us,” Natasha whispered.

“We are a family,” Wanda said. “We’ll keep you safe.”

Part 2

#wandanat x reader #wandanat x daughter!reader #wandanat x daughter #wandanat #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #yelena belova x kate bishop #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #tommy maximoff #billy maximoff #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #Kate Bishop #marvel #Marvel AU

2K notes · View notes

wandasfifthwife · 3 months

Text

a quiet mind is the devils playground

—ceo!wanda x fem!reader

tw: hurt/comfort, reader is described to have a form of toxic friends/bullies before, reader is described to have bad social anxiety, mental health spiral, angst w/ happy ending, crying, mentions of break up, Wanda is kind of snappy for a moment but apologizes :)

a/n: not proofread, I wrote this in like 40 mins lol— enjoy :)

Yesterday it feels like you had only just met her when you’ve known her for five years, plus three years of dating. What also feels like it was only yesterday, was knowing friends who cared to make it feel like it was hard to breathe, causing you run into the bathroom to try and compose yourself.

It’s years past, but your mind cannot forget the feeling. At any moment where it feels like history is about to repeat itself, you run away.

Wanda had stayed, helping you with your inner dialogue and discomfort with possible rejection. What she didn’t help plan for as when this feeling might be triggered by her.

Most jobs have their respective requirements to help the employee know what the expectations are if you wish to keep it. It was no different for Wanda, having a job that required the standard 9-5 as well as hours outside of work because accidents happen or something comes up.

It was accepted and expected.

You usually came and visited her during her work hours, choosing to drop by when you knew she had a moment in her schedule as well as yours. This time another woman occupied the chair you usually sat in.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting something—I can go—“ you mumble, moving to shut the door.

“No, please come in,” the woman, you find out her name is Juli, replied, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She leaves a second later, telling Wanda that they’ll have to discuss it over lunch later in the week before heading out. Wanda had smiled and pulled you into her lap, asking about your day and everything else besides her felt less important in that moment.

It was a second time around that you saw her near Wanda. A hand on the counter near her, smile resting on her face as she listened to Juli explain something to her and a group of girls surrounding them. For the first time in almost half a year you felt a similar feeling stirring within you.

You wanted to run away.

Instead you didn’t. You stayed outside of the lunch room, sitting in a nearby chair and listening to everything happening around in the office. It would have been just fine to have walked in and stood by her, but it wasn’t too big of a deal, right?

Not like it really mattered in the end. She would come out eventually and walk alongside you back home. Unless it was an odd day where she didn’t and you had to walk back yourself.

The third time you felt all of the past insecurities rise when you began to stalk Juli on social media. A bigger following, trendy, beautiful, funny. The ugly feeling began to rise within you again, saying that she was going to leave you just as everyone else did before.

It caused you to cry that night, fear taking over as you wondered if your overthinking was right as it has proved to be in the past. She still came home to you. Still texted you. Nothing had changed but you. You were scared of the chance it could as it has before.

It was a rabbit hole, digging itself after one thought, one small action of seeing someone conventionally seem to have life better than yours caused you to spiral.

The fourth was going ahead and taking a day off to rest. It would help to be more active and think on the subject a bit. It would be better you thought to try again.

So you had, trying to reach out to her in multiple ways. Social, in person, but it felt stagnant as when it did with Wanda. It felt overwhelming trying to force a conversation out of her.

Were you ugly, is that why they’re not talking to you?

It was overstimulating. Three girls in front of you, all giving each other a look that made your eyes begin to burn and leg begin to shake. It felt all too similar.

You had left, saying Wanda was calling you but that was a lie. It was helpful, using it to propel you into shoving yourself out the door and going into the bathroom again.

Frustration and hurt lined your heart. You were being silly. You always overthought. You need to stop being this way, you’re causing a scene. You hate your personality.

It was spiraling again, a dry sob coming from you. Tears filled your eyes and you gasped for air. But it felt stupid, all of it so as quickly as it began it stopped. You were so close to going back out again, wanting to seek your girlfriend when the two of the three girls came in, laughing.

You had no idea if it was about you or not but you just had to be selfish again and assume their gossip was about you. It could have been about the third that wasn’t present, about Wanda— but your mind filled the blanks in with your name written all over it. You waited until you were sure they left before you too took your own leave, heading to your car and going home for the night to try and recover.

The fifth time was when Wanda had called you, voice curt over the phone asking why it feels you’ve been ignoring her. You had questioned in your mind whether or not to be honest, but you choose to keep it hidden— not wishing to worry her. It was apparently the wrong answer.

She had taken a minute to lecture you, wishing you would be more upfront and honest with her. She wished you wouldn’t lie, you did too. You don’t know why you’re this way but it caused you to tear up, the bottle inside you beginning to crack at the edges. It grew to be too much when she hadn’t stopped after almost four minutes.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you sobbed into the phone, “I can’t be perfect. Okay, I know how much I mess up. I see it compared to other’s who have it come so easily. If you want that then why don’t you just break up with me?”

You ended the call halfway through her calling your name, hands pressing in your eyes as you again register what you just did, immediately regretting it like all of your other actions this week. It felt like it was too much. You needed time to go by, you needed to feel like you weren’t as annoying or using up so many “get out of guilt” free cards.

You don’t want her to break up with you. The thought alone had you crying again, reaching for the phone that was already ringing.

“I’m sorry,” it was the first thing that came out, “please don’t break up with me.”

“I’m not, pодная. Oh my love, how long have you been feeling like this? I’m so sorry for speaking like that to you.”

“Don’t apologize, please. I should be sorry for a lot of things.”

“You have no right to be sorry, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just spoke terrible to you, I’m so sorry, my love.”

You wipe at your face, head already beginning to ache with how hard you were just crying. You lean back into the bed, whispering for her to come home, and were pleasantly surprised when you heard her keys in the front door. She calls your name, face frowning even more when she sees you.

“I was able to get off work earlier today. When I called you earlier I was going to call and ask if you wanted to do something together but instead I took my stress out on you,” she says all of this while coming and resting beside you.

Your hand wraps around her waist, head comfortably on her chest, “I’m happy you’re back. Can we sit in silence? I don’t feel like talking.”

She hums, closing her eyes and rubbing small comforting circles onto the palm of your hand. You closed your eyes, shutting off another set of tears when you thought that this moment could have possibly never happened again. You shut it all off as you drifted asleep, smiling when you feel her kiss your head.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x you #ceo!wanda x fem!reader #ceo!wanda x reader #ceo!wanda #wanda maximoff x you #wanda #hurt/comfort

374 notes · View notes

spdrvyn · 1 month

Note

Perhaps a request for Miggy x scientist reader? Reader is a a former Alchemex scientist who used to work with Miguel. They have been working in spider HQ ever since the beginning of spider society. Both of them have been too busy to realize the bottled up feelings and emotions that is about to burst….

breaking beakers

miguel and a reader that's been by his side since day 1. since the treachery of alchemax, you've been loyal to miguel and his cause for protection of the multiverse. read bit by bit how your relationship with miguel develops, even if it's only something as simple as helping him administer rapture.

angst. drug usage (rapture). panic attack. absolutely love this request! i've never written a story where the reader was already a part of miguel's past so this is new and exciting for me. thank you, anon! i put my own twist, i hope you still enjoy reading ♡

dividers by @cafekitsune

breaking breakers

When you got paired up with your workplace's assigned asshole, you were more than concerned for your career than ever.

Miguel wasn't easy from the start. Arguments were one after the other, followed by complete silence in the lab due to the inability of either of you to take accountability. You had never really heard him talk or engage in conversation properly unless it was to scold or correct you for making, according to him, a quintillion mistakes.

It stretched you thin, you were close to asking the higher-ups to give you another partner, but you knew that they would ignore your protests so you put up with it. Besides, talking smack with your friends outside of work helped. Though, you knew that they were getting a little tired from it as well.

After a particularly harsh argument with him, you couldn't retaliate with anything witty to say. You sulked in your own corner of the laboratory for a while, until Miguel silently placed a small, steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk.

That moment had triggered the beginning of your actual relationship. Sometimes, the room would still be strung tight with tension, but it was better than awkwardly hanging around each other and waiting for yet another fight to start. It slowly turned into Miguel giving you rides home, Miguel buying more than just coffee for you, and Miguel staying at your place after he dropped you off.

Then he quit.

Or did he get fired? Liberated, in corporate terms. You didn't know the full story, you got a new lab partner one day, Miguel was gone, there was no coffee on your desk anymore. There was no comfortable silence.

It was difficult to get a hold on him with the moments that followed, you knew well that he had a tendency to brood, but never for this long. He didn't leave you on read, your messages weren't even going through. You searched his name up on social media and found nothing, a thousand other Miguels but not your Miguel. You reached out to his brother after a lot of thinking, but he couldn't come up with an answer either because his family didn't know where he went either.

Perhaps it shouldn't have upset you as much as it should have, Alchemax viewed their employees as expendable toys. You didn't mean to get attached to him, but you had breached that line very long ago ever since the first shouting match. He was your friend now, no corporation was going to get between at least trying to talk again.

When you had gotten a message from an unknown number, there were only two possible answers. A telemarketer or Miguel. Likely possibilities, a fifty percent chance for either. You thanked God that it was the latter.

The power that was held in that conversation had changed the trajectory of your life forever. Miguel helped arrange a time for you to meet, the second you caught sight of him, it erupted a feeling in you that you just couldn't bring yourself to describe.

He still looked like him, but otherwise different. His face looked more sunken in, eyebags, lines you hadn't seen on his face before. He was definitely taller, his physique was more built as well. What caught your attention the most though was his eyes, crimson red and deliberately drained of light.

Miguel, what happened to you?

It was a long, overly extensive talk. You shouldn't have broken down over it, the events that lead up to his timely demise at his job. It wasn't your place to cry over his misfortunes, but he looked like he didn't have it left in him to cry so you took that place for him. Alchemax was your breeding ground for innovation and evolution of human society, a little shady around the edges, but you knew that you'd still be helping people in the end. After this, your hopes in that place had been quashed. Clearly if they were heartless enough to treat one of their top geneticists like this, they wouldn't be any better towards the safety and care of the populus.

So you quit your job immediately. Miguel invited you to Spider Society and you gladly agreed, you were in no position to really decline. Besides, it was a good way to get you back on your feet again. You had become acquainted with the people that passed by in what used to be headquarters back then, Miguel trusted them with his life it seemed (despite him not being able to admit that himself though).

You'd find yourself in HQ more than in your own apartment at that point, you enjoyed being there. You had closer friends, Spider-People were better company than mad scientists anyway. You helped Miguel make this new, exciting thing from foundation to the top. It helped you become more social, it made you more comfortable opening up to people again.

You just didn't know that it was doing quite the opposite with Miguel.

You had blamed yourself for not noticing sooner, for not picking up the details that he wasn't doing as fine as he thought he was. When you found the doors to his office locked, you already felt your heart begin to race. You called out to Lyla and she was more than willing to answer back, "He's going through something, he hasn't really been taking his Rapture doses recently and-"

"Let me handle it," you said, firmly. "I can help him. I can fix it."

Lyla looked at you, just looked. She didn't feel, she wasn't supposed to feel exactly. She could act like it, her programming allowed her that at least. She made perfectly calculated decisions and perfectly calculated reactions to them, when she noticed a problem, she was supposed to fix it.

You weren't as accustomed to Lyla as other people, but you were aware of that as well. In spite of that, she still managed to be the light in conversations most of the time. Literally, when it was the dead of night, just you and Miguel strewing and caking together more reports, she'd find ways to make it more entertaining.

That means if Lyla looked at you like she did, with so much uncertainty and inner conflict. It was like her code turned to beat like a human heart, you could hear it in the swift moment of silent she'd left you in. The hiss and whir to Miguel's office doors reeled you back in, Lyla sighed. She shouldn't sigh, she never sighed.

"Do the right thing," she wished you off. God, I hope so, you thought to yourself.

It was dark, obviously. You were used to it, ever since Miguel told you about how sensitive his senses can get, you didn't really mind at all. There was still light that peeked from the corners, a small monitor here and there, maybe a secret window you just didn't know about. It was cozy sometimes even to evade the blinding sunlight and stay in the darkness with Miguel. But that's not at all what it felt like when you entered. It did not embrace you, it suffocated you.

There was no accompanied noise either, no beeping from a monitor, no whirring of a machine, and no idle chatter with him and Lyla like there would always be. It was the purest form of silence, the sound of your breathing and the small pats of your shoes against the cold, metal ground was all you could hear.

Miguel's platform was placed high up, there was absolutely no way that you could get to him without using a web shooter. Unless you could somehow convince him to lower his platform, which you really didn't want to do in the case you might accidentally say something stupid.

"Miguel?" You yelled, stupidly. Though, it would be more stupid to try and propel yourself up to the height of his platform. One option results in humiliation until the end of your life while the other option could result in the end of your life. You weren't really looking forward to experiencing the latter.

You thought you heard him mumble something, but before you could call out his name again, he answered back. "Get out."

The absence of cruelty in his tone was prominent to you already. He didn't have the heart to speak so coldly to you in the first place. No, he sounded scared, fearful, whether it was of you or himself, you were yet to find out the reason why. The priority right now was to talk to him, properly.

"Are you sure about that? I have a, uh, really important work file that I need you to review! The multiverse is at stake here, Miguel. Come on!"

Silence. For a few seconds. Before you heard the unmistakable click and whir of his platform, it makes its slow descent down towards you. Miguel begun to enter your vision, he had a chair pulled up and he was hunched over on his desk. Rare, you knew he liked to work when standing (oddly enough).

"You're a bad liar," he grumbled, not even facing you as he said it. You sighed as you stepped onto the platform, placing your hands on your hips.

"I wasn't lying, but your doors were locked and Lyla told me that there was something going on here." Miguel mumbled something else under his breath that you couldn't catch, he simply goes back to what to whatever he's doing. Which you really couldn't allow, but you couldn't push yourself into this. With him, there was always some sort of process.

You took the moment to observe your surroundings, it was unbearably messy in here. A feat that he'd somehow been able to achieve despite being way past the age of papers, there was clutter everywhere. From beakers, liquids of mysterious origin pooled around from here to there, and even... Blood?!

Your attention had snapped back to Miguel and that's when you had started to notice, how his shoulders rose and fell faster than usual, his hands ruffled in his hair, the rapid successions of his breath.

"Miguel," Shock the process. Shock waiting. He clearly wasn't okay, you knew that to the fullest now. In three short strides, you were already by his side. "What's going on?"

He shook his head. Okay, you didn't want to press him too hard into talking, but this wasn't something that you could leave alone. Hesitantly, you placed a hand on one of his shoulders. He flinched, so did you, but right now, you needed to be the strongest person in the room so you kept your hand there.

You tilted your head to the side, just so you could see his face, but he avoided your gaze. What entered your sights however was a discarded needle gun, yet to be picked up, and a few claw marks on the table.

So this was the Rapture that Lyla was talking about. You hadn't a single clue what it was when she mentioned it, you pretended because you thought that she'd lock you out if you hadn't. Even then, there isn't much you could deduce aside from the fact that it was a drug Miguel had to take. You heard very little about the Rapture studies back in Alchemax, it was very classified, and you wish you would have pried more.

"Do you need help with that?" You asked, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. Your thumb drew small circles into the muscle of his shoulder, his hands fell from his hair to his sides. He slumped back against his chair with a big sigh, and he nodded.

Shakily, you picked up the gun. There was no seat for you to take, so you decided on sitting on the table. When you leaned down, the nanofabric of Miguel's suit had dissipated, revealing the fullness of his arm to you. You attempted to steady your hands over the exposed skin, Miguel doesn't even wince as the little needles pierce through.

It will probably take a little while for the vial to empty out. You stewed in the silence with Miguel for a while, you'd usually use this as an opportunity to make conversation, but judging from his current state, he probably isn't one for talking.

You released the breath that you were holding in when it was finished, you set the device for the side. Your hand remained on Miguel's shoulder the whole time and it tightened as you asked, "Is there–"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I'm just-" Miguel took a deep breath. "I'm- not ready to talk about it right now. It's a lot, sorry for bothering you."

He still wouldn't look you in the eye, you looked down to his hands and saw him tugging and pinching at the fabric of his suit. He'd calmed down a little now at least, but still. You couldn't help but feel like you've failed somehow, you tried to put on what's supposed to resemble a smile to him. "Okay, that's fine."

When he dismissed you and let you (told you) to leave him alone, you promised yourself that you'd wait. You'd wait for him to be ready.

But maybe he never will.

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x y/n #hurt/comfort #tw drug use #tw panic attack

225 notes · View notes

vigilskeep · 11 months

Text

how likely are the da2 party to have other friends, a discussion

varric: his character is the guy with lots of friends. or contacts, at least. obviously he’s not emotionally honest or vulnerable with any of them but that’s by nature of it being varric so it’s hardly news

isabela: similar to varric, knows a lot of people, likely not close with them. also knows a lot of people, wink wink, that she might consider friends. there’s zevran :) also worth saying that she looks out for marginalised women who seem to look up to her, because she’s that cool

fenris: several comments are made that he does not have a social life. also lives in a manor full of dead bodies, which is not conducive to hosting guests unless your friend is hawke who is apparently cool with this. however, has his own mercenary contacts, points out to merrill that some elves are willing to chat to him that will not with her, and by the end of the game is having regular game nights with people like donnic. we’ll call it a work in progress

merrill: it seems like it takes the alienage a while to warm up to her and that she doesn’t spend much time socialising at least at first bc of the mirror situation, but people are generally fond of her and there is canonical material to suggest this was true in the alienage eventually, not to mention that she took a leadership role among them after the end of da2, which is really cool

sebastian: probably, but they’re priests and, like, chantry-going old ladies who think he’s a sweet boy and try to marry their granddaughters off to him. does not seem like he gets out much otherwise these days except with hawke

anders: i don’t know that i would call them friends exactly but he does have entire circles (haha) of people that he knows outside the game npcs, like the mage underground, and all the darktown refugees who are apparently just up for killing for him whenever. there’s people like lirene. characteristically probably tries to hold them at a distance, may not realise he is considered a friend

aveline: canonically if you are like “why the fuck are you asking me” during her act 2 personal quest, literally outright says she has no other friends

971 notes · View notes

cassidymb121 · 2 months

Text

OMG It’s You…

Youtube! Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️ Warning ⚠️: overthinking, anxiety, undeserving, frustration, fatigue

🏷️: @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone (Taglist open)

Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

I don’t think people understand just how exhausting life can be. ‘Not to mention expensive too.’ I thought to myself. When I got home I greeted my family before dumping my stuff by the front door then headed to my room. I collapsed on the bed and let out a huge sigh. I didn’t want to get up because of how exhausted I was but I needed to edit some of my videos I’ve made in the last couple of days. I dreaded doing it because I lost some of my footage due to me falling asleep at the computer. How I did it exactly is a mystery to me. All I know is I tried to find it and it wasn’t there.

I got up and started moving about the room. I needed to get changed and get a shower before I started working. As I was in the shower I started reflecting on my YouTube channel. I’m an introvert as most people would say. I don’t socialize much with others unless I’m at work where I have to, but I usually mind my own business. Unless I hear gossip then I’m interested. I debated whether if it was a good idea to start a channel since I didn’t think I was very entertaining.

You see I grew up in the South where I listened to Country music along with some Pop and occasional Hip Hop or R&B. When I first heard K-pop music it was odd at first but over time I came to really enjoy it. Which brings me to where I am now, listening to K-pop music and rating the group’s albums from my perspective and reacting to videos of them being silly. Stray Kids found their way into my heart one day and since then they’ve become a part of my life.

After getting refreshed, I go into the kitchen to find something to eat since my stomach made a gurgling noise. I decided on a sandwich and some chips. After making my food I head back to my room and start up my computer and monitors. It’s been a little over a year now since I started this channel. I knew from the start that doing a reaction channel probably wouldn’t go viral right away, but after some time more people started to find my channel and following me. Especially after my reaction to God’s Menu MV. Call it the Felix effect if you would. Even to the point where they were excited for new videos to come out.

I always worried that people wouldn’t like my videos, but then I would see all the positive comments and smile that I made someone’s day better. I used that positivity to keep me going, doesn’t mean that I didn’t get hate here or there. Although there are a bunch of people who stood up for me. That would always make my day better.

‘Focus Y/N. You still have to finish these two videos so you can start making more for next week.’ I shook my head and got working on my videos that I already recorded. ‘I need to re-record what I deleted so that I can finish editing this video.” I got to work on the one I didn’t mess up first before going to the second one. I pulled my camera towards me and turning it on. I pulled up the previous videos I had watched from that evening before doing my intro.

“Hello Lovelies and welcome back to the channel. So, as you will see I’m dressed different from my previous video. Reason being is that I deleted some footage and now I’m having to re-record where I left off. So, let’s get started shall we.”

——————————————————————

Third Person POV

The boys were taking a small break from practice. They’ve been going at it for days it seemed like, even if it were only a couple of hours. Things were picking up since their comeback was coming up soon. As each one of them found a place to relax, Felix was watching a video on YouTube.

“How many times have you watched that same video?” Felix looked up to see his other half looking at his screen with his eyebrows raised. “I can’t help it. She’s very relatable, super sweet, and I love her accent. Plus she’s beautiful and has gorgeous y/e/c eyes.” Hyunjin sits down beside Felix. “Okay okay I get it, you love everything about Y/N. It’s not like you’re the only one though.” Hyunjin takes a moment to look at the rest of his members. “We all have seen her videos and like her just the same as you, if not more.” Felix sighs. “I know. I guess some days I enjoy watching her videos because they make me smile. Especially when some days are harder than others. Her videos comfort me like a warm hug on a cold day.” Felix smiles thinking about it while Hyunjin smiles at him, understanding where he comes from.

He remembers when they first found Y/N’s videos. During Chan’s room, there were some Stays that told Chan to look her up and watch her videos. It didn’t happen right away but Stays were persistent on them watching her, so they finally watched one of her videos just to see what their fans were talking about. One video turned into three videos then seven videos, up until the point where they had seen all of her videos. Some might say that Stray Kids themselves love Y/N’s videos more than Stays. Each member has there own favorite episodes of Y/N as well as their favorite qualities of her. Chan likes how motherly she acts, especially when it comes to Stays asking her questions on certain topics. Lee Minho likes how she can understand and speak Korean. Even go as far as to have subtitles in Korean for people who don’t understand English that well.

Changbin likes her laugh, especially when its uncontrollable laughter. It makes him want to laugh with her. Hyunjin likes how creative she can be with her edits. Like when she adds in all these cool effects or audio cues that make the video even more engaging. Han Jisung likes how uncharacteristically funny she can be without trying. Felix like her smile, he thinks it’s her most charming point. Seungmin likes her sassy/blunt side. He thinks that’s the funniest part of her personality. Jeongin likes her whole personality in general. He knows he could see her as an older sister if he ever met her.

Hyunjin turns back to Felix “I believe that’s exactly how Stays feel seeing videos of us too. We’ve seen them express it through messages and videos. So I get where you’re coming from.” He pats Felix’s knee and moves to go back over to his original spot.

“SHE JUST POSTED A NEW VIDEO!” All of the boys looked in the direction of the voice they heard. All scrambling to get over to Changbin who had called them. “Well what are you waiting for? Play the video!” Lee Know shouts as Changbin presses play on his phone.

(Terrible title but it’s all I could come up with lol. Hope you all like it! I’m trying something new so who knows how far I’ll go with this one. I’ll try to update as much as I can. Thanks!)

159 notes · View notes

oftenwantedafton · 4 months

Text

A New Afton - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader

Chapter 6

Rating - Explicit

Warnings for sexual content, daddy kink, praise kink, plushophilia

Also available on AO3

taglist @yellowbunnydreams

William Afton pretending to be Steve Raglan looks at the phone number scrawled on the slip of paper in front of him on the desk blotter and sighs.

It’s the number for the place where his wife is staying.

There’s a framed picture on the desk of himself and his bride and her daughter. He stares at your face when he dials the number.

It takes someone a minute to answer, another few to locate your mother. Steve glances at the clock. His lunch break is rapidly disappearing. He always spends it in his office unless his spouse forces him to be social.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Steve! I tried calling you last night.”

“Really? Sorry I missed your call. I went out to get something for dinner.”

“You’re not doing takeout every night, are you?”

“No, not at all. Just haven’t made the effort to do shopping for the week yet. I’ll take care of that this weekend. Tell me how your trip is going.”

He winds the phone cord around his index finger and half listens to your mother babble. He’s thinking about you kneeling in front of him in the office at the pizzeria. Holding you on the couch. Falling asleep with you in his arms. Waking up the same way, too.

“Steve? Are you there?”

“Yes. Sorry the connection isn’t great. These phones, you know.”

“I asked how things are going with you and my daughter.”

“Oh, fine. We’re getting along fine. You don’t need to worry.” She absolutely should be worried.

“Well, I miss you.”

“Yeah, we miss you too.” He doesn’t. Not even remotely. He wishes he could cut your mother right out of that picture on the desk. Cut her right out of his life. End the charade and just keep you all to himself. He can handle the home life doldrums with you there. They don’t bother him like they used to when it’s just the two of you.

He finds himself enjoying taking care of you.

“I’ll call you on Saturday afternoon.”

“Okay sounds good. Have fun. Take care.”

“I lo—”

He hangs up the phone. Leans back in his chair and sighs, pulling off his glasses and scrubbing a hand over his face. Glances at the clock again and lifts the phone back off the hook and dials a four digit extension number.

“Is my next client here yet? Yeah, no, I know it’s fifteen minutes early. Go ahead and send them in.”

***

You’re sitting on your bed with your legs folded, still wearing your school uniform, a notebook in your lap and a textbook on the bed.

It’s getting late.

Well past time when your stepfather should be home.

You’ve already tried calling the office. No answer. You can only assume he’s left for the day. So where was he?

It’s difficult to concentrate on something as mundane as quadratic equations when the memories of the previous night keep flooding your mind. The previous three nights. Strange to think it’s only been three. Such a scant amount.

You lift your pencil and set it back down, looking at the clock again. What if something bad had happened? Steve should have been back at least two hours ago.

Your bedroom is at the back of the house so you don’t hear the car when it pulls into the driveway. You think you hear the front door open and close and you sigh in relief. He’s home. He’s okay.

You hear his even tread up the carpeted stairs. Your cracked door is pushed open the remainder of the way. Steve leans, letting his upper arm and shoulder gently strike the door frame to rest against it.

“Hey, baby girl.”

“I was worried. You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Work got a little crazy. And then I picked us up groceries. Enough to get us through the weekend. We can deal with next week when it gets here.”

He looks a little tired, you think. Almost…you’re not sure. You’ve never seen your stepfather wear this look before. A sort of melancholy.

“You doing your homework?” He pushes off the door frame and walks over to stand next to the bed. You nod. “That’s my good girl.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Princess. Just a little tired.” He begins to gently comb his fingers through your hair as you tip your head to look up at him.

“I was really worried.”

“I’m sorry. I should have called.”

“I missed you, Daddy.”

“Yeah. I missed you too.” He bends to kiss your mouth. You grab his tie, unfolding your legs, the notebook tumbling out of your lap as you struggle to kneel on the mattress’ springy surface, trying to get closer to him. He drags the comforter off the bed and your school things are dumped to the floor. “I miss the taste of you in my mouth,” he pants, climbing onto the bed with you. It’s a twin, three sizes smaller than the king one in the master bedroom. “Let me have you, sweet girl.” He pulls until you’re lying supine beneath him. Lifts your skirt and kisses you through your panties. He gently bites on the material at the crotch and pulls it into his mouth, sucking on it, moaning against you.

Your body had begun responding to his presence the instant he had appeared. You’re conditioned for this now; trained for it. Your entrance waters in anticipation for your stepfather’s sinful kisses.

Steve shoves the material impatiently to one side, holding it with his thumb and licks. You moan and arch against him, burying a hand in his graying hair. His glasses have gotten lost in the shuffle somewhere.

“My God, you’re wet baby girl,” he observes. He flicks his tongue against your clit and you feel a finger ease inside of you.

You hiss in pleasure. This is what you want. What you need. A second figure begins to be added. This is new but your body is eager to accommodate. Stretching. So much fluid leaking from you. His saliva now adding to the slick of your arousal.

“Yes, Daddy. It feels so good…”

Suction on your fuck button as he finishes violating you with the pair of digits. He’s in. Your hips gyrate. It’s a natural response, the way evolution assured that the species would propagate. Your body knows what it’s made for.

“Fuck me, Daddy. I need you to fuck me.” You like the fingers but you want his cock. You’re not afraid anymore. You want him buried inside you, crushing you from above on the outside.

“Soon, baby girl,” he murmurs, mouth pulling off your clit with a soft pop. “I’m going to fuck you so hard. Fill you up every night when I get home. Send you to school every day with another load still dripping out of you.” He wrenches the panties further to one side and buries his face in your pussy. Withdraws the fingers and thrusts his tongue in, alternating between them. Lets his fingers curl around the crotch of the fabric he’s holding so his freed thumb can press your nub against the bone beneath, stroking in circles.

Your thighs are shaking. He’s got you so close. His hair is damp in your clenched fingers. He’s working up a sweat eating you out. “Daddy, I’m going to cum.”

“Good girl. Cum for me.” He slurps between your lips and tongues your bundle of nerves again, his fingers pounding into you.

You explode, quivering against your stepfather, pushing his head against you more tightly. You feel the puffs of air exchange from his nostrils, the encouraging moans extending the pleasure. His fingers finally exit your canal and you relax your grip on Steve’s hair, letting him breathe easier.

“I think suffocating in your pussy is probably one of the best ways I could perish.”

“Sorry, was I too—”

“—No. You were perfect. You’re always perfect.” He releases his hold of your panties and climbs back over you to kiss you, the taste of your cunt heavy on his tongue.

“I want to make you feel good, too.”

“Later, baby. This was just an aperitif.”

You frown. “What’s that?”

“Like an appetizer only it’s alcohol instead of food. It’s meant to stimulate your appetite.” He plants a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth and flops next to you. His tall frame is really too much for this bed.

“Oh. That’s kind of hot.”

Steve grins and sighs, swiping at the dampness of you still clinging to his beard. “Everything about you is, baby girl.” He looks happier now. Sated. More content. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll start dinner, okay? I picked up everything you asked for yesterday.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

“Anything for my daughter.” He reaches for one of your hands and brings it to his lips, kissing your fingertips gently.

***

William places the dish of foil wrapped Russet potatoes on the oven rack and shuts the door, setting the timer on the stove. You’re at the sink, washing and cutting vegetables for the salad.

He’s going to give them twenty minutes or so before he starts on the rest of the meal.

You look up at him and smile softly. You’ve showered with him and are wearing one of his tshirts. He loves where the hem hits your thigh, the way the material flows over your body. He’s tempted for another round but he doesn’t want to spoil dinner. He was going to wait.

He asks you about school. The details of your day, the things he’s missed. And he’s surprised that he actually cares about these things. He wants you to succeed. He wants you to be happy.

William looks at the time and decides now is the moment to begin. He shoves his shirt sleeves up and gets started on the steaks, seasoning them with salt and pepper, getting the cast iron seasoned skillet hot. He feels you watching him after you’ve finished and he smiles as he lays down the meat to sear. “You like watching me cook.”

“I do. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just…I would have liked to see you in the restaurant, back in the day. It’s too bad it closed.”

“Yes, it is.” The red meat sizzles and its aroma fills the air. Your mother usually is the one to cook. He wonders why you don’t cook with her, indulging in your obvious culinary curiosity. But he’s not going to ask. Not now. He doesn’t want to mention her and have that wedge between you two evenings in a row.

Afton flips the steaks and repeats the searing process. Reduced the heat when he thinks enough time has elapsed and adds in butter and rosemary and thyme. The oven beeps, signaling the potatoes are ready. He’s gotten sour cream and butter and chives to top them with. You set the table. You’re in your mother’s seat again. It’s yours, now.

Everything is cooked perfectly. The warm

food is comforting. He rests a palm on your knee, nothing sexual really, just letting you feel his presence beside you. The intimacy the two of you share.

“That was so yummy. Thank you, Daddy.”

“Of course, Princess. You deserve it.”

You offer to load the dishwasher and he puts the leftovers into storage in the fridge. There’s not much, just some salad. You’d both been hungry. After he’s finished wiping down the kitchen he joins you on the couch, carrying a pair of filled wine glasses. You sip the pale gold liquid and flip through the channels until you find a horror movie to watch, looking a question at your stepfather.

“Whatever you want to watch is fine, baby.”

On screen, he sees a knife sink into flesh and the bloom of crimson brings back so many memories.

Night four has come and is quickly fading away.

***

You’re in your bedroom, setting out your school uniform clothes for the morning when Steve enters.

You can count the number of times you’ve been in here with him on one hand. It’s not a space he normally intrudes in. This is the second time tonight.

“I’m almost ready,” you say. You’re drowsy from the wine. Maybe slightly tipsy. You’d only had two glasses. Your stepfather had drunk at least twice that amount.

His gaze wanders to the lineup of stuffed animals on the shelf beneath the window. “Which one is it?”

“What?”

“Which one did you use. You know, you had mentioned before…” He points to the shelf. The new yellow rabbit your stepfather had retrieved for you from the claw machine is front and center.

“Oh,” you blush. “Um, the rabbit on the end. The ears are easy to hold…” You can’t finish the sentence. It’s ridiculous to be embarrassed about something like masturbating at this point, when Steve had been eating you out a foot away just a few hours ago.

“Did you ever want a toy? A vibrator, or…”

“I never really thought about it, I guess.”

“Maybe I’ll get you one someday. To tide you over if I’m not around. But not until I’ve had you,” he says, stepping closer. He’s looking at you with lidded eyes that have gone completely black.

“Okay, Daddy,” you say softly.

He reaches for the plush bunny. It’s white with a soft pink bow. Button eyes and nose and a stitched mouth. He holds it out to you, clutching it by the ear. “Show me how you touch yourself. I want to see.”

You swallow nervously. “I haven’t really done that in a while.”

“Baby girl,” he says, and there’s a warning there. He’s not asking. He’s telling. The tenderness from earlier has vanished.

“Okay.” You take the rabbit and set it on the bed, about to climb in when he halts you.

“Without the panties on.”

You slowly lift the hem of the borrowed shirt and reach for the waistband. This pair has little pink hearts on it. You push them down and step out of them, leaving them on the floor in a crumpled pile.

You settle into the center of the bed and Steve sits on the side, his body angled to face you. You reach for the rabbit plush and position it between your legs, lifting your hips so the torso and lower legs are tucked beneath you and the face rests against your crotch, the point of its nose poised nearly level with your clit.

The synthetic fur against your bare flesh feels amazing. Why hadn’t you tried this sooner?

You cross your ankles and the stuffed bunny draws tightly against your body. You wind one of the ears around your hand, reminding you of winding your hand around Steve’s tie. Your body grinds against the plush, the bed creaking softly with the movements.

He rests a palm on your thigh, feeling the muscles shifting beneath the skin. Your eyes are locked with his.

“Does it feel good, baby girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Your stepfather pulls his erection from his pajama pants and begins stroking. You can’t see exactly all of what he’s doing at this angle but you can hear his palm stroking, the sound of skin brushing skin, see the motions of his arm.

The fabric and fur is damp between your legs. There are times when the nose pushes just right, where the seam lines up perfectly and your sensitive nub is mashed, sparking the nerves within. The gyrating motion continues. Your breathing is more rapid. More of a pant. You’re still staring into your stepdad’s blown pupils. The swishing sounds of Steve rubbing his cock match the rate of your respirations.

His hand leaves your thigh and he climbs into bed with you, positioning himself over you, still stroking, bracing himself with his forearm and knees so he hovers just above. He kisses you and says your name. The hand holding the rabbit ear is cramped. You ignore the discomfort, your hips still rolling, pressing your pussy agains the plush.

“My sweet girl,” he says. “My daughter.”

Your core throbs and aches. You’re getting close again. “I’m yours, Daddy. Only yours.”

Raglan groans. His movements on his dick are more frantic now. He’s nearing his own release.

“I want you to cum all over me, Daddy.” You whimper. Nearly there. Every grind digs against your clit perfectly.

“You want it, baby? Want me to paint you with it?”

“Yes, Daddy. I love the way your hot cum feels on me. Oh, Daddy, it’s…I’m…” You arch off the bed as your stepfather’s hot seed spurts over your chest, soaking into the fabric. His head drops down and he kisses you through the remainder of your shared orgasm.

A half hour later you’re back in his bed with a clean shirt and no panties, tucked beside him. You’re so drowsy now. Satisfied. Steve’s breathing is already slowing as he drifts off to sleep.

The fourth night ends.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #william afton #steve raglan #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

153 notes · View notes

breekento · 4 months

Text

Another HiguNana Analysis

Since y’all loved my comparing and contrasting of Higuruma and Nanami, I thought I would word vomit some more of my thoughts considering they’re all that runs through my mind these days.

Just a reminder these are my personal head-cannons don’t hate me.

But first, let’s talk about their similarities.

They aren’t the type of man to hit you up at midnight asking for a booty call or splitting the bill over a cheap dinner while they talk about themselves the entire time. They will wine and dine you but not before buying your outfit, nails, and treating you like an absolute goddess on this earth without expecting anything in return.

They’re both established businessmen, bordering on workaholics. They take their career seriously but Hiromi is more likely to take their work home him due to the personal and dark nature of his job.

I alluded to this in my previous HiguNana comparison post but they both care a lot about their appearance but not in a narcissistic manner. They like to look professional and put together even if they have differing styles. They wake up early enough before work to leave the house with a clean shaven face, neatly styled hair, and pressed suits.

Now let’s get into their differences!

Socially:

Higuruma is more extroverted than Nanami. Nanami can turn it on when he needs to, he has learned from years of being in business to be confrontational and direct. Nanami isn’t the type to go out of his way for conversation and pleasantries, unless of course it’s you. He is polite to service workers but isn’t the type to expand in the conversation like “How is your day going?” It takes him longer to truly open up but when he does he is completely vulnerable and that is reserved only for you.

Higuruma, on the other hand, is the type of man that elderly women adore. When they bag his groceries, he slides a hefty tip asking, “What do you have planned this evening?” He’s more witty and charming outwardly while Nanami reserves his lighter side for only you. Although Hiromi is more extroverted, it doesn’t mean his treats you like any other girl. He places his partner on the highest pedestal in his life. His charm and personality can give other women the wrong idea, confusing his politeness for flirtation. On the other hand, he makes it abundantly clear who his one and only is, showing you off at any moment.

In arguments:

They both are calm and collected when it comes to disagreements. They aren’t the type to yell and shout at their partners.

Nanami is a more quiet and stern man when he’s angry. He may lower his voice, speaking sternly when he’s angry but never belittles you. He’s a very protective man so most of your arguments would stem from your lack of awareness. Knocking on the door and getting angry with you for not looking through the peephole, forgetting to lock down at night, and being too friendly with strangers are all reasons Nanami would become cross with you but only from a place of concern.

Hiromi is more submissive in arguments. He’s the type of man to notice your anger immediately, desperately trying to win your forgiveness. Looking at you with sad puppy dog eyes, upturned eyebrows with a soft “Come on, doll. Don’t be angry with me.” He would rarely make you angry but on the off chance he did it would be due to him coming home later than expected after spending long hours at the law firm.

During sex:

Nanami is dominant through and through. He will never pass up the opportunity to watch you have your way with him but prefers to be in complete control. He loves watching you squirm and whimper beneath him. He’s a more possessive lover, reveling in the fact that only he can put you in such a state.

Hiromi is a good mixture of whatever the vibe of the evening is for. He has more of an ability to be submissive, watching you above him as he worships every inch of your body with sweet phrases and loving eyes.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami kento #fanfic #jjk fanfic #higuruma hiromi #jjk x you #higuruma x reader #nanami x reader #higuruma hiromi x reader

153 notes · View notes

marlynnofmany · 2 years

Text

How I Became the Token Human

The sign said “Earthling Wanted” in large print, and I, a perfectly eligible Earthling, said “Heck yeah.” Busy space station life bustled around me as I stepped close to read the details on the holoboard. Other ads were for the usual range of odd jobs and social events, but this one was specific.

And it couldn’t have been more perfect for me. A courier ship was contracted to deliver someone’s pet cat to them in deep space (I guessed that a breakup had happened while the owner was away, or their temporary job had turned into a permanent one) and while the couriers were perfectly capable of getting the cat there, this was several days of travel, and they hadn’t the first idea of how to care for an Earth animal.

Well, I thought with no small amount of smugness, They just got themselves an expert. I copied the holo ad onto my phone, then found a vaguely-private corner of a public seating area and activated the call. I stood up straight and professional, as if I was meeting a wealthy new client with an ailing Samoyed. Would they want a detailed resume? A rundown of the places I’d worked and trained, my range of expertise on animals big and small? Or perhaps a description of what I would do in various unexpected scenarios?

Nope. The octopuslike alien who popped into view — deep green, harried, and female unless I missed my guess — only had two questions for me.

“Great, you look like an Earthling,” she said. “How experienced are you in caring for cats?”

“Very,” I said, ready to add more.

“Good. Can you leave immediately?”

“Yes,” I decided, thinking quickly. “I just have to grab my things. Where’s your ship?”

“Meet us at the semiaquatic spaceport before the shadow covers it.” She glanced at something offscreen. “We leave before the solar sails have to fold. Be quick.” With that, the call ended.

I blinked once, then shoved the phone into my pocket and sprinted down the corridor. Passersby stepped aside and gave me disapproving looks, especially the group of red-pink bugfolk who chattered after me in their own language, but I dodged through the loose crowd without hitting anyone. Nearly tripped over a smaller-than-average Waterwill, which could have been disastrous given their “column of jello” consistency, but I hopped on by with a quick apology.

Are Waterwills really that fragile? I wondered as I ran. My biological studies had all been Earth-based. I knew the best way to hold a chameleon, pet a cat, and catch a chicken, but I hadn’t the foggiest idea how the friendly blobmonsters worked.

Well, maybe I’d find out.

I skidded into my small room and threw things into the suitcase. There wasn’t much to pack, since this was a temporary stop. Five minutes ago I’d been planning to trudge back to Earth and look for a new job. My old workplace was under new management and doing a reshuffling that made for a perfect time to take a quick lap around the galaxy, something I’d always wanted to do. It had been a great vacation. But there wasn’t much call for a veterinarian in space. Or so I’d thought.

One more jaunt, I told myself. It pays well enough to be worth it. And they clearly need my help. With a look about the room for anything I’d missed, I zipped the suitcase and shouldered my backpack, then cancelled the rest of my reservation at the control panel by the door.

A few more button presses, and the door wooshed open to let me dash off through the residential area, towing my suitcase on its repulsor plate behind me. That bag was much better than my old wheelie-case, which was always tipping over when I turned quickly. This one did have a tendency to slide around like a toddler on ice, but I was an old hand now at pulling the strap just right to keep it from taking anybody out at the knees. And honestly, I usually walked at a more reasonable pace than this. But time was short.

I glanced at a multiclock as I passed an elevator hub; sunset was coming for this side of the station. I wondered who had decided to make the station rotate in orbit instead of keeping one side facing the sun, but that was beyond my pay grade. Maybe it got too hot otherwise.

Long lines at the food court made me slow down, edging past a variety of body types before I reached a clear area and picked up speed again.

Success, I thought. Didn’t even bump into a scaly tail. This door? That door!

I found the dry-air-breather’s access port and hurried into the airlocks where steeply angled sunlight was streaming in. I only stopped once, to swipe my ID in exchange for a cheapo force-field exo suit. Just in case the separation of dry air, wet air, and water left anything to be desired. I’d made that mistake once. One experience of scrambling for the emergency cutoff switch in an airlock rapidly filling with water was enough.

Those octopeople breathe dry air, right? I fretted while I retrieved the exo disk. I think so. They just like more baths and moisturizers than I do. I’ll be fine on a ship made for them. Assuming the one I talked to doesn’t live in a scuba suit while onboard. But surely they would have said. Probably.

With my ID back in my pocket and the control disk stuck to my chest (using technology that was basically the inverse of my suitcase), I shoved out into the spaceport in a cloud of my own air. I was greeted by more air, rows of parked ships under a glittering force field between us and the stars, and an impatient-looking green tentacle alien waiting in view of the airlocks. She waved me toward her ship as soon as she saw me.

Strongarms, that’s what they’re called, I remembered. I guess I’ll get a name for this one once we’re on the way. With golden solar sails spread wide, the little round ship looked like a cartoon bat, or maybe a lemon that wanted to be a pirate ship when it grew up. The epitome of dignity either way. I made a note to say nothing about that either.

“Right this way; stand back while the door shuts; the animal is in the cargo bay with more food and junk than any sane creature could eat in the time we’ve got; I’ll introduce you after takeoff.” The green Strongarm didn’t give me a chance to do more than nod as she spoke. “For now, come grab a crash seat in the cabin. I’ll introduce you to the crew after takeoff too.” She sped down the narrow corridor with a quiet slapping of tentacles on the shiny blue floor.

I did my best to keep up, despite having to bend over as I walked. This ship was not designed for a tall species. At least the walls and ceiling were a clean white, not one of those squishy organic ships that made my skin crawl.

“Got the human,” she announced as the door to the cabin spiraled open. She waved several tentacles back at me, one pointing at a chair near the wall that had a fighting chance of fitting me. “Quick-quick.”

I ducked through the sphincter-door (also gross, but less so), waved at the dozen or so random aliens, then shoved my suitcase behind the chair and sat. The chair was cup-shaped and way too small, but at least the back was flexible. I could feel a localized gravity field in place of a seat belt.

These folks have a lot of faith in their ship’s power source, I thought as I lifted my backpack to where it would give me neck support. Here’s hoping we don’t crash. For lots of reasons.

The crew were mostly ignoring me, though in a polite way. Strongarms, Frillians, and a few Heatseekers. Octopeople, colorful fin-covered bipeds who looked like tropical fish that had learned to walk, and little lizardy folks. All air breathers, though two out of three had aquatic origins. As the engine hummed to life, I shut off my exo field.

Damp air caressed my face like someone breathing on me from uncomfortably close. Great. But it was breathable and wouldn’t damage my stuff, and we were already in space, judging by the viewscreen that had just registered some very quick movement. Only stars and a few distant ships were in front of us now.

“All right, introductions!” announced the green Strongarm. “You can call me Kamm. What’s your name, human?”

“Robin Bennett,” I said, sitting up straight. “Earth animal expert at your service.”

Kamm accepted that and rattled off the names of everyone else in the room, then gave a quick rundown of the journey we could expect. Three standard days, no wormholes planned, no asteroid showers or other hoo-ha expected.

And now that we were clear of the space station’s shipping lanes, we could make good time and move about the ship.

Kamm hopped out of her seat and hit the floor with a wet smack. “This way, animal expert. Let’s show you to your charge and your room.”

I grabbed my suitcase and followed, trying to be graceful while simultaneously ducking and high-stepping through the door. It was like walking around in a kids’ playhouse.

At least the cargo bay had a properly high ceiling. It also had many boxes of cargo, and one metal cage with a very distressed cat. The I-don’t-want-to-be-here yodel echoed off every wall.

“Well, there it is,” said Kamm with a wince. “It’s been this loud the whole time. I hope that’s not a cause for alarm?”

“Not the sound alone, no,” I said. “Let me take a quick look. Hey, kitty.” I approached with a gentle voice and quiet footsteps.

The tone of the cat’s yowling changed when it saw me, aiming for pity over volume. Poor little gray tabby sounded very lonely. A nameplate with paragraphs of contact information said “PICKLE” in all caps.

“Hello, Pickle. There there, kitty; it’s okay.” I greeted the cat with a soothing babble of syllables, letting it sniff my fingers through the bars, only noticing once it quieted that Kamm had stayed by the door.

“Oh good,” the alien said. “It likes you. Will you want the whole crate in your quarters, I hope? There’s enough room.”

“Yes, definitely,” I said, standing back up. The cat mewed in protest.

“Great. All the food and whatever should fit too. Grab a sled.”

At Kamm’s directions, I helped maneuver a hoversled under the cage, then down the hall. She led the way with a different sled full of airtight cases covered in labels. Her cart was the more rattletrap of the two, which I appreciated; the supplies wouldn’t be bothered by any jolts in height, but an anxious cat sure would.

Pickle yowled all the way to my quarters. Our quarters, rather. Kamm was eager to rush off once I said I had everything in hand, and I couldn’t blame her. But the noise stopped as soon as the door shut.

“Mew?”

“All right, kitty,” I said as I took off my backpack. “That door seems solid, so you probably won’t run off and get stuck under the brake pedal, or however they fly this ship. Do you want to come out?”

Pickle didn’t, when I opened the door, but I made myself comfortable on the floor by the cage and read through the info packet that had popped up on my phone. Pickle was a girl cat, five years old, spayed, fond of cheese and toys that crinkled.

Eventually she crept out to accept some gentle scritches and a warm lap. I was considering moving to the giant squishy cushion that passed for a bed when the door chimed.

“Ow!” Those claws were sharp when Pickle launched off me to hide in the carrier. I got to my feet painfully, shut the small door, then opened the big one. The ceiling was low in here too.

A maroon-and-teal Frillian stood there, just barely short enough to stand normally in the hallway. “Did you bring food, or would you like to join us for a meal?”

I looked back at the quiet cat. “I do have some ration bars, but I wouldn’t mind meeting everyone properly. Let me dig out some food for my charge here, then I’ll be there. Which way…?”

The Frillian gave me directions, then scooted off. I turned to the multiple boxes labeled “food,” and checked the info packet. Pickle had preferences.

But of course she was too scared to eat. I left the tray of high-quality wet food inside the cage alongside a dish of water and a well-chewed toy mouse that promised to have familiar smells. Then I gave her some quiet time.

And I got some fun time! The crew turned out to be outgoing and friendly, with many a joke ready about the types of food that my species was known to eat. They were mostly a carnivorous set, of one kind or another (fish, bugs, rodents; not a T-bone steak among the lot). They weren’t phased by any kind of plant food, but the existence of dairy products as a whole was soundly denounced as vile weirdness.

“Honestly, it makes sense,” I laughed. “Milk is the first food we eat when we’re born, then we found ways to make it into a bunch of other fancy things.”

“Yes, but why?” asked a bright red Heatseeker, his lizardy face intent. “Organic drippings sound like the absolute last choice of edible foods.”

“Spoken by someone who has never tasted ice cream,” I told him. “Or pizza! Those are some of the best foods out there.”

“I’ve heard humans mention pizza before,” said a large gray Strongarm. He gestured with something that looked like an uncut sushi roll. “What actually is it?”

I happily explained, then had to go on a tangent about bread, since that was apparently a weird human thing too.

“Really? None of you folks have food made of processed grains?” I asked, to a row of blank stares. “Guess not, but okay: it’s crushed grain and water with yeast — those are little microscopic creatures that help turn it into proper food — as I understand it, the air bubbles in the finished bread are their farts — I’m not doing a good job of selling this, am I? I swear it tastes good!”

The big Strongarm laughed loudest. “No, but keep going! You were going to circle back to ‘cheese’ and why it’s not rotten.”

I did my best, eventually giving up while insisting that they would probably like at least some of my species’ barbaric dishes if they ever got a chance to try them. It was a fun conversation. And the food was all right too. A bit fishy, but I’d had worse.

I was sad to see the meal end, with everyone scattering off to their various tasks, some of which might have been fun to help with: untangling cords or organizing cases or deciphering random space messages. But my duty was with the cat.

Pickle was caterwauling loud enough to be heard from the end of the hallway. I hurried in and comforted her again, opening the cage and settling in to rest on the cushion-bed with her snuggled next to me.

With nothing else to do, I drifted off into a nap that was more restful than expected, given the alien bed. I woke, braved the alien bathroom, then went back to sleep. Even after the vacation I’d been taking, it was a bizarre luxury to have no demands on my time. I didn’t even know what kind of day/night cycle this ship was on.

And it didn’t matter. I slept as much as I needed to, ate a couple ration bars, fed and played with Pickle, and I read a book I’d been meaning to get around to. It was nice.

Crew members showed up occasionally to invite me to meals, but otherwise I spent the whole trip in my quarters. And as much as I enjoyed the camaraderie of dinnertime, the guilt I felt every time I returned to piteous meows kept me from staying out longer.

I really would have liked to, though. They even had a music night with instruments I’d never heard of. There were spares that I was welcome to try.

But Pickle had been scratching at the cage the last time I returned, and if she tore a claw because I wanted to know what an alien trumpet sounded like, then I would have failed in my duty.

So I stayed with the cat who purred like an outboard motor, and I did some more reading. It was still nice. Peaceful. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to take a turn at the radio station, listening for gossip and distress calls and triple-encoded secret messages.

The end of the trip caught me off guard. Kamm showed up with a ten-minute warning before the time we needed to have the crate stowed in the cargo bay, and me seated in the cabin.

“Already?” I blurted. “Right, I’ll be packed up in a jiff. Got the sleds?”

In the rush of gathering things, ushering Pickle back into the carrier, and hurrying to the cargo bay, I didn’t really have time to Feel Things about the trip ending.

But I felt them anyway. I’d miss my little snuggle buddy. I hoped she had a good life ahead of her.

The man waiting at the spaceport a few minutes later, as close to the landing pad as he was allowed, was a grizzled old space marine type. Stereotypes said he would have been more at home with some vicious beast as a pet, but I’d seen enough mismatched owners in my time to just smile at how eagerly he waited. And the way his face lit up at the sight of his cat was heartwarming.

Pickle’s distressed meows turned to welcoming mews when her human scritched her through the bars. I didn’t have to remind him that he owed money before he could take her away; he was on top of that. Though I’m sure Kamm would have made sure if necessary. The two of them handled the transaction with speed. Then to my surprise, he opened the cage there on the landing pad.

Pickle clawed her way up his thick jacket to settle purring onto his shoulders, like this was where she was meant to be. Maybe it was.

“Thanks so much for bringing her to me,” the man said to Kamm, with a nod to me as well. “Gonna introduce her to the new family; now everyone I love is in one place.”

Kamm said a polite goodbye while I gave him a warm smile and wiggled my fingers at Pickle. The cat gave me a slow blink, purring hard and nuzzling his chin. Then the pair of them walked off to the rest of their lives.

“Come grab your stuff,” Kamm told me. “He left a big tip, which I’ll pass over to you. No way we could have done a thing to calm that creature ourselves.”

“Thank you,” I said. “It was my pleasure.” It really had been; going home seemed anticlimactic now. It was just a pity I hadn’t been able to socialize with the crew more. They were good people.

I followed Kamm back into the ship for the last time — or so I thought, until a pair of crew members called from the radio station about a message from their sister ship.

“They had a fuel leak, and only managed to coast into orbit of a moon four days out,” said the small Frillian. “They need fuel, repair supplies, and extra food for their cargo.” He looked from Kamm to me. “I don’t know what planet the cargo is from, but if you don’t have to be anywhere just yet…?”

I grinned. “I don’t, as a matter of fact. I’ll happily come along if you’ll have me.”

Kamm flipped a tentacle in what was probably a shrug. “Why not? It worked out well just now. And I want to see if you can play a flange horn.”

“Me too!” I said. “Let me just grab some provisions before we go. At least one of you folks has to try pizza.”

This was years ago now. I never did get a regular job back on Earth, and I don’t regret it one bit.

(A couple crewmates did regret the pizza, but at least it was funny.)

~~~

This is official backstory connecting these comics with this novel. Robin has had a lot of adventures, and is about to have more!

#the Token Human #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #earth is a deathworld #haso #hfy #earth is space australia #eiad #writeblr #my writing #humans #aliens #cats #in spaaace #Robin Bennett #the spacefaring veterinarian and human-at-large #once again explaining cheese to nonhumans #always a fun conversation

2K notes · View notes