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maximotts · 2 months

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she hates her ⁘ w. maximoff x n. romanoff

brainrot is real and dangerous! This time it manifested in the idea of an enemies to lovers WandaNat AU in which sorority president Wanda and fraternity president Natasha simply can't stand one another, but Nat finds Wanda's weakness and exploits the fuck out of it. I'm planning to write more of them so I hope you all love these sillies in their enemies phase! P.S. if you know why I named this AU what I did, you're a real one 💖

Seven Things AU. masterlist :: Natasha lives to annoy Wanda so naturally, she plans the Spring Barbeque Night on the lawn of Wanda's sorority without asking and counts down the seconds until she comes down to complain

wc: 4k cw: 18+ only, minors DNI. warnings are clearly labeled, please don't add community filters. sorority!Wanda x fraternity!Natasha. smut. oral (n receiving). strap on sex (w receiving). cum strap. copious insults/hate sex. rough play/manhandling. overstimulation. degradation/humiliation. nat has a seriously filthy mouth and calls wanda lots of names. internal discussions of aftercare.

Wanda hated Natasha Romanoff.

She hated her messy red hair and the cocky way she walked around campus, how unshakably full of herself she always was, no matter how much of an asshole she was being any given moment. And she was constantly an ass, a chronic headache from the first day Wanda met her last year…

Currently Wanda hated Natasha’s heavy boots kicking her knees apart each time she moved them together even an inch.

“You want to get off on sucking my dick so bad, it’s pathetic.” Nat couldn’t stop her long groan and didn’t want to, grip tightening in Wanda’s loosely curled hair as she inched her strap further down the other girl’s throat.

If someone told her last month she’d have the most annoying girl she knew knelt in front of her like this, Natasha would’ve laughed them off; they could barely coexist in a room for more than a few minutes without one of them going off on the other.

They’d found a compromise in fucking each other speechless; mostly Wanda who, for all her holier-than-thou attitude towards the other woman, found herself repeatedly powerless for hidden quickies with Natasha.

Wanda could only claw at Natasha’s thighs, any possible harm dulled by the denim jeans Nat didn’t bother removing. She’d add how stupidly brutish Nat was to her ever-growing list of grievances if it didn’t turn her on so damn much.

The moment the fabric of her harness brushed Wanda’s cheek, they both shivered.

“I’m gonna assume no one’s managed to fuck this pretty mouth of yours this deep yet,” the redhead ground her hips against Wanda’s face slowly, letting her head roll back against the door, willfully ignorant to any discomfort the girl before her endured, “or maybe you’re too much of a bitch for anyone else to bother trying.”

Natasha let up and Wanda growled, disgusted gaze glaring daggers at her tormentor. “You don’t have anyone else to screw with, or have all the girls in town grown tired of your womanizer routine?”

“Fuck’s sake, shut up.” Shoving her forward was all too easy with Wanda caught off guard, burying her tip at the back of her throat so roughly Wanda gagged. Nat drove her hips back and forth at a brutal pace, laughing at the brunette’s sputtering, “That’s it, choke on my cock…”

The two were both too stubborn to break eye contact, Wanda’s wide green eyes watering with embarrassment and Natasha shamelessly getting off to her struggle.

She fucked her steadily, both hands now fisted in Wanda’s hair, the poor girl’s face growing pinker every second as she fought to hide just how much being used like this turned her on. It was no use, the sticky mess of the sorority president’s lip gloss and spit leaving kisses on her fraternity counterpart’s harness, sending Wanda into a dizzying frenzy of arousal that wrenched in the pit of her stomach- and lewdly dripped onto Natasha’s boot.

Oh how Natasha wished her phone wasn’t discarded on Wanda’s nightstand; she’d give anything to have photo evidence of their university’s golden student drooling on her strap and trying desperately to rub herself on her laces. “I bet if I shot a load down your throat you’d cum on the spot… wanna try?”

Nat finally let Wanda take a breath, yanking her away in favor of taking the thick toy in her hand, tapping the head onto the brunette’s already waiting tongue as she nodded desperately. She hadn’t bought this toy for anyone particular, never got much use out of it until she stumbled into Wanda’s secret a few weeks ago; now it was quickly becoming her favorite possession.

An accidentally perfect object to drive Wanda insane.

“Are you gonna let us keep our party on your lawn?”

The question snapped Wanda back to attention, suddenly aware of Natasha’s ulterior motives. There was a strange pang of hurt she felt, only for the briefest of seconds, to know what she was being used for, but it quickly morphed into keen anger. “Absolutely not! Go camp out with someone who actually likes you.”

“Stubborn bitch,” Nat muttered, knocking Wanda backwards. She was unsteady enough for her back to hit the floor with a painful thud, wincing as she met the hard wood of her bedroom. Admittedly, maybe that was a little too harsh, Natasha’s hand reaching out to inspect the girl before she caught herself, remembered who they were to one another, and her originally thoughtful touch became a slap for Wanda’s calf.

In an instant she was kneeling, dragging Wanda’s strawberry printed pajama shorts off to get a good look at her handiwork. They were still new to one another, having only really fallen into rage-fueled quickies, this was Natasha’s first time seeing the full effect she had on Wanda and damn if it wasn’t more intoxicating than all the beers she’d drunk tonight combined. “Pretty mouth and pussy, no wonder I’ve heard you’re good to fuck around with.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, doing her best to tamp down how hot she felt being openly inspected like this, ignoring the sparks she felt as Natasha’s hands parted and pawed at her bare thighs. “Don’t be gross, you pass yourself around more in one weekend than I’ve done my entire life.”

“So I know what I’m doing, Maximoff. Don’t forget I almost made you cum without a single touch just now.” If she cared enough Nat would’ve asked her how many people she actually had been with. Wanda had a reputation for being a tease of epic proportions, flirting cruelly with no intent of following through or, if you’re lucky, getting you off, but for as much gossip Nat heard, she couldn’t think of anyone who could say they’d slept with her.

In truth, the girl was picky, refusing to let anyone get farther than she thought she’d enjoy just as much as they did. Unfortunately Natasha not only met that standard, but rose far above it— the only reason she tolerated her insufferable nature each time they ended up like this. “But I didn’t finish, so get on with it. You’re already starting to bore me- ow!”

The last thing Wanda expected was a slap, stinging and wet, between her legs.

“Whenever you speak, you bore me, but I’m still here…” Her strap slid through the other girl’s cunt effortlessly, the weight of it offering the barest bit of much needed friction, but where Wanda raised her hips, Natasha held them down.

When the tip rested at Wanda’s waiting entrance, the shallowest of motions left her biting her lip to keep from begging. She couldn’t admit how badly she wanted this, how intensely she fought not to wrap her legs around Natasha and take the whole of her all by herself, to sate the persistent empty feeling she’d had since Nat pulled their hips together down on the lawn… “And you’re only here to get the answer you want so go ahead, try and convince me.”

Nat was too selfish to give Wanda time to adjust, pushing inside inch by inch while the girl below her gasped and balled her fists at her sides, too arrogant to grab onto Natasha’s stupid toned arms. But bottoming out felt like mutual heaven and as Wanda felt that cool, rough denim rub under her thighs, she gave in and let her legs clamp about her waist.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” Nat muttered, drawing out slowly just to surge forward, quickly setting a pace so brutal Wanda couldn’t hope to keep up. “Would’ve let you use your fingers before if I’d known…”

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, eyes fluttering closed. She hated having to get this from someone she couldn’t stand, body betraying her in the presence of the person she wanted to be miles away from, but she forced her brain to submit along with the rest of her, taking her pleasure in a world where Natasha wasn’t a daily thorn in her side.

She needed to feel overwhelmed, overtaken, out of control— Natasha was the only person bold enough to give her what she was after. And she planned to use it to her full advantage. “No? Does perfect princess Wanda need to be fucked like a filthy slut?”

The woman was a mess of moans, doing her best to ignore Nat until calloused fingers gripped her jaw and yanked her back to reality. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch me fuck you dumb.”

When their eyes met again, Wanda’s pupils were blown wide, flushed cheeks pinched together under Nat’s grasp, “I asked you a question, answer me or I’ll leave you here and let everyone outside know you’re locked in your room with your fingers deep in your tight cunt, dreaming of my dick.”

Natasha really wished Wanda wasn’t so fucking pretty with her breathy pants and tousled hair framing her face like a halo; it made sex so much harder not giving the girl exactly what she wanted. “Just fuck me, Romanoff. You have a party to get back to.”

“I do? So you’ll let us stay?” Wanda nearly threw a fit when Natasha stopped again, the thought of being denied twice in one night enough to leave her whining. She was someone people rarely said no to, things simply fell into place for her as she wished, but challenging, thick-headed Natasha… dealing with her was akin to rolling a boulder single-handed.

“Yes, yes fine! Keep your crappy party! Let me cum and you can stay the night for all I care-“ Her eyes were wide open now, focused enough to take in Natasha’s shit-eating grin before she pounded into her once more, faster and more determined now that she’d won.

The redhead never had trouble in bed, satisfying whoever she fell into bed with effortlessly; she was reluctant to admit it’d grown repetitive. So when she ran into a drunk and mopey Wanda stumbling down the hall of her fraternity a few weeks back and cornered her with intention to mock her nighttime walk of shame, Natasha was morbidly curious to hear her confess how sexually unsatisfied she was with such plain honesty.

She couldn’t have predicted Wanda ever being in her room, much less sprawling on her bed like she belonged there and bemoaning her plight. “Is it so hard to just cum on my face? You’d think they’d be excited, but nooo all I get is ‘are you sure that’s what you want?’ Of course I’m sure!”

Natasha was so rarely speechless, but of all possible statements, she’d never expected that one.

Maybe they wouldn’t have happened if Wanda’s guard wasn’t lowered by alcohol. If Natasha hadn’t been standing at the foot of the bed in gray sweatpants that so poorly hid the strap she’d been packing, matching sports bra showing off her toned stomach while she proudly proclaimed she’d have no issue granting Wanda what she was after. If Wanda hadn’t crawled across the mattress to Nat and kissed the taut skin right below her navel before taking those cotton pants between her teeth and pulling, staring Natasha down with a ferocity she never imagined would make her feel anything but a primal rage-

But that night played out as it did and now they were here, another evening spent indulging each other in acts they couldn’t ask of anyone else.

Wanda didn’t announce how close she was, didn’t give Natasha the satisfaction of knowing just how good of an orgasm she’d given her— the woman above her still knew. She’d heard Wanda cry out for her before and she’d already come this far: Natasha wouldn’t stop until she had Wanda begging. “You’re supposed to say thank you when I’m nice to you.”

“In your dreams, playboy.”

Fighting words were routine, but the glob of spit landing on Natasha’s cheek colored her vision red. For a moment, the tension in the air felt too thick, bedroom eerily quiet as Nat’s grip flexed into the plush thighs spread before her, clenched jaw only accentuating her dangerous glare. Maybe Wanda would be afraid if she hadn’t hit the exact nerve she’d aimed for.

“Brats like you never behave for long, huh?” Dragging Wanda across the floor, Natasha rammed into still recovering sex, cupping the back of her knee and forcing her leg into her chest while the other stayed trapped against the wood. The new angle was deeper than Wanda had ever been treated to and her choked sob alone almost made up for Natasha being spit on.

Almost.

“Always such an insufferable… ungrateful…” She grumbled, losing her train of thought as her focus dropped down, suddenly fixated on the now drenched toy at her hips stretched around Wanda’s tight hole, ever growing mess close to dripping onto her ass.

Wanda wasn’t new to people staring at her, most days it boosted her already impressive confidence levels, but the way Natasha watched, always sizing her up like prey to be hunted and devoured, that was different. When she wasn’t looking at her with apathy it was contempt, anything to remind Wanda she wasn’t infallible as she thought she was, but this —Natasha so obviously getting off to her, so desperately rocking her pelvis against Wanda’s whenever she bottomed out in search of friction— made the brunette feel craved.

“What’s the matter, run out of insults?” Nat hadn’t noticed her mouth hanging open until it felt dry, snapping out of her lustrous thoughts to lick her full lips. Seconds from verbal retort, she decided on a better course, one equally as selfish as Wanda’s earlier orgasm: she could very easily knock the girl down some much needed pegs while making it worth her time.

“Just wondering how a spoiled little cumslut like you thinks it’s in your best interest to mouth off.” Wanda didn’t have time to be taken aback, Natasha’s sudden change of angle driving her round tip into that elusive spot deep inside over and over; she cursed her drunken self babbling to her rival that she was the only person, including herself, to find it.

“Shit, Romanoff, slow down-!” She thought for sure Natasha wouldn’t remember, had her pegged as the type of lover who had to learn everything over each time, but no, Nat was the opposite and now she knew too much.

“Shut your mouth and play with your tits.” The command was blunt, powerful enough in its delivery that Wanda didn’t question, shaky hands sliding under her shirt while she struggled not to finish her second time unexpectedly early.

She was slow in her touches, too slow for Natasha’s energetic pace, and the loose cotton fabric hid the view; two things Nat instantly got tired of. “Get your damn shirt out of the way, and I don’t want any of your silly shy shit- I told you to play with them.”

Wanda would kill Nat if she ever told a soul she whimpered, would deny having clenched around Nat in response to her exerting control… still she wrenched her shirt over her head as quick as she could and her hands flew back to her chest. She forced her eyes to stay open, smugly committing the sight of Natasha panting in time with her thrusts, light green eyes glued to Wanda’s fingers teasing her dusty pink nipples into hardness.

“You’re such a creep, I bet you’ll be jerking off to this for weeks,” she mumbled, pinching the sensitive peaks between her thumb and forefinger, moaning louder than intended as she matched Natasha’s motions.

Nat huffed, couldn’t bother denying that yes, she would definitely be thinking about Wanda spread wide open and touching herself for a long time. Her partner would to, though, mind wandering to Natasha ordering her around next time she found herself alone and needy.

Wanda made the mistake of watching Nat’s tongue swipe over her lips, traitorous brain wondering what the smooth muscle would feel like instead of her chilly fingertips, how warm and wet her mouth would be if she ever dared to suck—

This time when the dam broke, she was too distracted to censor herself, back arching and body trembling uncontrollably. If Nat’s focus had lapsed for just two seconds she would’ve missed Wanda utter her name, soft and breathy, syllables stuttered as if she pronounced it for the first time. “Aww poor princess, was that too much for you?”

“Go fuck yourself…” The words were weak, embarrassingly so, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to laugh at her attempt.

“Already working on it, smartass,” Nat didn’t falter for a second through Wanda’s second high, meeting wave after wave as the girl finally stopped pretending she didn’t want this just as much and raised her hips with each thrust.

The redhead had long since made a mess of her own underwear, sticky wetness coating the base of her strap to aid her now desperate grinding into Wanda, rubbing her neglected sex against the textured silicone. She wouldn’t last much longer, not when Wanda insisted on mewling so maddeningly, freshly manicured nails digging into Natasha’s sides as she fought overstimulation.

“You’re being too rough-!” Wanda couldn’t stand the sound of her own voice knowing once again it was Natasha who’d rendered her so vulnerable, but this was always her favorite part, being used and treated so carelessly; the thing she and Nat never properly talked about, but knew she needed.

“But I’m so close, don’t you want me to stuff your pretty little cunt?” Nat taunted, bending over so she could kiss Wanda’s temple. “I think you’ve almost been a nice enough fuck tonight to earn it.”

“God, just do it!” Nat was humping against her so hard it hurt, but then the dull sting ebbed in place of a new sensation -two deft fingers rolling over her swollen clit- and Wanda could only briefly process she was well and truly done for before her mind melted away.

“So demanding for someone so needy… try asking nicely.” Fortunately for Natasha’s rapidly approaching orgasm, Wanda didn’t have it in her to fight anymore, submitting with a barely audible please. “Please what, you know what I wanna hear.”

Wanda could slap herself for being so weak later, maybe when she took a shower and realized how she actually loved being made to beg so helplessly. “Please Natasha, please please, I want you to cum in me!”

“Good girl, there’s those perfect manners,” Nat came with a series of grunts, jerkily rutting while she filled Wanda like she’d been thinking of doing since she stomped out of her house and tried to break up their party.

She’d been so angry, shouting and pointing her finger in everyone’s faces, treating her and her friends like they were rowdy kids. The others mumbled apologies, deferring to Wanda like the figurehead she decided she was, but Natasha loved a challenge, especially one she’d planned on having after purposefully planting themselves on the sorority lawn. Nat wasn’t scared of Wanda, not before this arrangement and certainly not after; now she knew exactly how to fix any argument that popped up.

When Natasha finally pulled out, there was a dampness to the front of her shirt and jeans and again, she wanted to reach over for her camera. Instead she settled for sliding her hands to where Wanda was red and oh so wet, abused hole fluttering as their combined arousal leaked out. It seemed a shame to let it go to waste on the floor, two fingers collecting what’d escaped and, much to Wanda’s exhausted surprise, pushing it back in.

“I’m too sensitive for that…” Twisting away was futile, Natasha still firmly planted between her thighs. She had half a mind to kick her until she saw Nat’s free hand angling her cock down, painting Wanda’s lower half with thick ropes of cum while her thumb nudged her hardened bud, and dull throbs of new arousal twisted her stomach into cramps. “Stop-!”

The pleasure in it was fleeting, the pain of exhaustion winning out, but it wasn’t until she sobbed pitifully that Natasha finally glanced up at Wanda’s anguished face and backed off. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine…” Wanda refused to entertain the idea that any bit of Nat’s concern was real; if she dwelled long enough, she’d ruin her afterglow with too many conflicting thoughts. It didn’t matter if the redhead actually cared anyways, her touch, now slowly smoothing over Wanda’s sore hips, started to burn as Wanda came back to her senses. “Just get your hands off me, idiot.”

Natasha could’ve pushed and maybe if it was someone she was supposed to care about she would’ve, but her worry swerved towards brushing off Wanda’s rejection, defaulting back to what they did best: hate each other. “A greedy whore and a squirter, probably a crier too if I bed you on the right day… better hope your secrets are safe with me, princess.”

Her heart dropped thinking about her sex life becoming the latest gossip, but she could only feebly push her away, head twisting to the side just so she could look anywhere but Natasha and her insolent self. “Well you’ve got to have some kind of funny story to tell everyone when you go back the party. I know you’re always low on those.”

Eventually she managed sitting up, stretching out her back and arms, inadvertently giving Natasha one last unobstructed view of her before retrieving her discarded t-shirt and putting it back in place. “Or you could crack open another beer and share how you drool like a baby every time you see my tits, that’s a conversation starter for sure.”

Needing a soft surface for her now aching body, Wanda clumsily climbed into bed, unceremoniously using Nat’s shoulder to lean on as she maneuvered. True, Natasha tended to kiss and tell, but something about doing the same to Wanda felt wrong, at least to be as detailed as she typically was. Maybe it was just the pride she got from being the only person Wanda’s actually fucking; she wanted to keep that for herself.

“Could always come back downstairs with me and we’ll tell them together.” Natasha didn’t need much clean up, zipping her jeans back and standing awkwardly next to Wanda’s now prone form. Neither of them knew how to handle the ‘after’ yet, Nat’s tendency to check in on even her most casual of partners always ignored by Wanda who knew she’d undoubtedly needed that care but couldn’t stomach the possibility of being one in a string of partners.

So they avoided it as much as possible. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d ever be seen anywhere with you, playboy.”

Wanda felt a different kind of yearning just then, one that dared her to give Nat the option to stay and her cheeks flushed all over again. Her solution was rolling over until her back was to Natasha, steeled herself to stay that way until she was left alone.

Nat sighed, long and audibly irritated, pondering the pros and cons of offering to do something together up here, a calm, private thing where she could sate that instinct to watch over Wanda without explicitly doing just that… but it’d require admitting she wouldn’t mind hanging out with Wanda and she did not want that.

“Sorry, I should’ve said if you wanted to take a night off of being an impossible bitch, you can actually try to enjoy yourself.”

The door closed behind her and Wanda could breathe again, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. She felt empty and not only between her legs; unfortunately for Wanda, Natasha was no longer around to take her frustrations out on. “Stupid asshole..”

Eventually her night ended dangerously close to feigning some illness to lure Natasha’s attention back when she fell asleep and Nat’s, uncharacteristically leaving her party alone with the excuse of having forgotten her phone on the Wanda’s nightstand. She certainly didn’t use the opportunity to see Wanda again, surveying her sleep before pulling a blanket over the brunette’s shivering form.

#wandanat #wandanat fic #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat au #seven things au #wanda maximoff fic #natasha romanoff fic #motts writes.#maximotts

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scoonsalicious · 1 month

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Unwanted: Chapter 18, Unread - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, betrayal, mentions of sex, mentions of violence, threats.

Word Count: 1.9k

Previously On...: You saw something on Bucky's phone that changed everything.

A/N: Here it is-- the final betrayal. I'm sorry. It can only go up from here, right? LOL no.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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“Care to tell me why we’re meeting in an unused guest suite on a floor that’s mostly under construction?” Nat asked when you opened the door of your borrowed new room to let her in. You didn’t utter a word, just thrust a copy of the text screenshots into her hands and sat down at the edge of the unfamiliar bed, waiting for her to read them.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Just read it,” you told her, voice devoid of any emotion.

Natasha scanned through the messages, her eyes widening in shock and disgust as she made her way through them. “This has got to be some sort of sick trick, right?” she asked you when she’d finished. “Like, Carthage found some program online to make up fake text messages and sent them to mess with you. Barnes would nev–”

“I screenshotted them off of Bucky’s phone, myself, Nat,” you informed her.

There was a knock on the door and Nat opened it to reveal Wanda. “I came as soon as I could,” the other redhead said. “Why are we having a secret meeting?” Nat handed Wanda the screenshots and came to sit next to you on the bed while she read them.

Wanda’s hand flew to her mouth. “No,” she whispered, looking back up at you. “How could he? There must be some kind of mistake.”

“No mistake, Wands,” you said, standing up to take the pages from her. “It’s all right there, typed out by the man himself.” And then, as if to punish yourself further, you began to read out loud the text between Bucky and Jade:

Vix <3: Hey there, handsome xoxo

Vix <3: Bucky?

Vix <3: You just going to ignore me after everything?

>> How are you texting me? You're supposed to be blocked.

Vix <3: You should keep better track of your phone, then ;)

Vix <3: Or, at the very least, choose a better passcode.

>> What do you want?

Vix <3: I want to talk about what happened the other night.

>> Nothing happened.

Vix <3: Come on now, we both know that's not true ;)

>> It was a mistake. I should have never done it.

Vix <3: You don't make a mistake two separate times, Barnes.

>> Well, I did. And I regret it.

Vix <3: You didn't seem to regret it when you were blowing loads of cum inside of me.

>> Jesus Christ, Jade. You don't have to be so fucking crass about it.

Vix <3: I thought you liked girls with dirty mouths.

>> Jade, I have a girlfriend. She’s the only one whose mouth I like dirty. Or at all.

Vix <3: That's right, your Perfect, Precious Pocket.

>> Do not talk about her.

Vix <3: Oh please. Don't pretend you care about her now.

>> I love her.

Vix <3: You have a funny way of showing it, sleeping with me just a day and a half ago.

>> She is EVERYTHING to me.

Vix <3: Obviously not.

>> I thought she slept with Steve.

>> I was a fucking idiot.

>> It was a misunderstanding.

Vix <3: Orly? That how she's going to see it?

>> She's not gonna find out.

Vix <3: You think you can hide the truth from her? Please.

>> The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

Vix <3: Should have thought of that before you fucked me. Twice.

Vix <3: If you don't tell her, I will.

>> She'd never believe you. She fucking hates you.

Vix <3: I don't need her to believe me. I just need her to see these texts.

>> You wouldn't.

Vix <3: Try me. You don't want to fuck with me, Bucky.

Vix <3: Tell her the truth or I will.

>> I swear to god, Carthage, you breathe a word of this to her and I *will* fucking kill you.

>> That is not an idle threat.

>> Ending your life would be as easy for me as breathing.

Vix <3: You wouldn't.

>> Do you want to try me?

>> Because I promise you, she is the most important thing in this world to me, and if you threaten that, I will end you without losing a wink of sleep.

>> You know what I'm capable of. Don't test me.

>> Do you understand me?

>> I said, do you understand me?

Vix <3: Christ, yes, Barnes. I understand.

Vix <3: I'll keep my mouth shut.

Vix <3: But you're a real piece of shit, you know that?

>> You're not telling me anything I don't already know.

Vix <3: I'd be so fucking good to you if you just gave me a chance.

>> Not happening. And if I find out you even insinuate to Pocket, or to anyone, what happened in Russia, it will be the absolute last thing you ever do, and no one will ever find your body.

Vix <3: I already told you, I won't tell your Precious Pocket. I'm not a liar.

>> Good. We're done. I'll speak to Steve about having someone else take over your training.

Vix <3: WHAT?! You don't have to do that!

>> I can't be around you anymore. I don't want to be around you anymore.

Vix <3: Temptation too strong? Afraid you'll make another 'mistake'?

>> Fuck you.

Vix <3: You already did, baby xoxo

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Wanda whispered when you’d finished reading. “Pocket, honey, are you alright?” She looked at you as if she were terrified you were going to break. And maybe the old you would have. This new you, the one that was forged under rage and ice, was made of harder, crueler stuff.

“I’ll live,” you said. Nat and Wanda exchanged a glance that didn’t escape your notice. “What?” you snapped at them.

“Hey,” Nat said, “Don’t get mad at us; we’re just worried about you. The last time he pulled something like this, you were a mess. This,” she indicated the sheets of paper you still held, “is way worse, so forgive us for expecting you to not be okay.”

You sighed and slumped down into a nearby chair. “I’m sorry, guys,” you said. “Obviously I’m not okay, and it’s not fair of me to take out my frustrations on you. But this time is different. Before, I was devastated, I was sad. But now? Now I’m fucking pissed. It’s like every ounce of love I felt for him has been turned into pure, unadulterated hatred, and all I want is for him to fucking suffer. I want him to hurt the way he hurt me.” Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but you interrupted her before she could. “And I know that’s not healthy, Wands. Trust me, I know that. I’ve just never been this angry before in my entire fucking life. God, not even at fucking Darren.”

“Who’s Darren?” Wanda asked, but Nat shook her head at her.

“Not now,” she said.

“I don’t even want him dead,” you continued, voice rising, as though Wanda hadn’t spoken at all. “Death would be too good for him! I want him to feel pain, pain like he has never experienced before in his long, utterly useless life!”

“Pocket,” Nat warned. She knew you were dangerously close to saying something you might eventually come to regret.

You sighed, the rage fleeting and leaving you feeling hollow and broken. “I know,” you said. “I don’t really mean it. I’m just so goddamned hurt!”

“I know it’s difficult to believe this right now,” Wanda said, taking a step closer to put a hand on your shoulder, “but he does still love you– he said he—”

“No,” you interrupted, sounding every bit as defeated as you felt. “You don’t do that to someone you love. You just don’t. This morning, he talked about getting our own place, getting married, starting a fucking family.” You choked back your emotions, but your voice still cracked. “I thought he was ready to take things to the next step, to prove how much I meant to him, but he was just trying to distract me, trying to get me out of the Tower because he couldn’t risk me running into her, couldn’t risk her telling me the fucking truth he was too much of a coward to admit.”

Nat and Wanda looked from you to each other, lost in their sense of helplessness, of not knowing how to care for you in your time of need.

“You know,” you went on, “I probably would have forgiven him, if he had just straight up told me the truth. I mean, we weren’t even technically together, so it wasn’t cheating. If he’d said ‘I’m sorry, Pocket. I saw those articles and I went fucking crazy with jealousy. All I could think about was getting back at you because I thought you betrayed me.’ Yeah, I’d have been pissed, and it might have taken a while, but I could have forgiven him if he had just been fucking honest with me. That’s all I ever asked of him. That he just be fucking honest. But he’s lied to me, again and again and again.

“He took away my right to make an informed choice about my own fucking life,” you said, and this time, the emotions couldn’t be held back. “He of all fucking people should know what that feels like,” you sobbed. “He should know how valuable that choice is! How valuable it is to me!” And there it was, really, the crux of the matter. He knew how much you valued the freedom you now had over your own life, after so many years of not having any choices in what happened to your own body, and he’d stolen your ability to make a choice for yourself. He’d had sex with you, knowing you never would have consented if you knew he’d been with Carthage less than 24 hours prior. He’d violated so much more than your trust this time.

Nat stood up and raced over to you, throwing her arms around you. Wanda looked on for a moment, confused, before joining Nat in embracing you.

The entire time you’d been speaking to your friends, your phone had been silently vibrating. You’d turned the ringer off as soon as you texted Nat and Wanda, asking them to meet you. You didn’t need to look at the screen to know that it was Bucky who was trying to get ahold of you. If you’d been in a better frame of mind, you’d have laughed at the irony– here you had spent all day yesterday waiting on a text or call from him that never came, and now he was blowing up your phone and you couldn’t stand the thought of speaking to or hearing from him. Life was sure funny sometimes.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), Ms. Romanoff, Ms. Maximoff,” FRIDAY’s voice rang through your borrowed room. “Mr. Stark is requesting everyone’s presence in Conference Room C for a mandatory pre-mission briefing to begin in ten minutes.”

“Fucking Tony,” you moaned. A mandatory meeting meant a mandatory encounter with Bucky, and you were so not ready for that yet.

“Don’t worry,” Wanda said, squeezing your hands. “Natasha and I won’t leave your side. He won’t be able to get near you. I’ll put a forcefield up around you if I have to.”

You managed to sniff out a laugh and wiped your nose. “Thanks, Wands. I really appreciate it.” Steeling yourself, you stood up from your chair. “Let’s go see what Tony wants.”

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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gallavichthings · 5 months

Text

It's time!

How would you all like 21 22 fics on the 21st 22nd of December?

The Gallavich Masquerade Ball 2023 is now open! Grab a glass of champagne or anything else you'd prefer, some hors d'oeuvres, and choose your (first) dance partner for the night!

You can check all the fics in our AO3 collection or on this post, after the cut. A list of all authors with links to their profiles is also included. This post is pinned so you can check it whenever you want.

And here's the link for the form where you can put your guesses. It's only one form for all the fics, so please wait to submit your guesses only after you've read them all.

Here's the updated point system:

Points for readers: Correct guess on first choice: 5 points. Correct guess on second choice: 2 points. Incorrect guess: lose 1 point. (Please note that you only lose 1 point per story, even if you guess incorrectly on both choices.)

Points for writers: If someone correctly guesses your fic (regardless of in the first or second choice): 1 point. If someone wrongfully guesses your fic: 3 points.

Leaving kudos and comments is allowed and appreciated! Writers are also allowed to answer, but it's up to them whether to already do it or wait until everyone's identity is revealed so as not to give anything away accidentally. Oh, and if you want to post something about the fics here on Tumblr but can't tag them, I can serve as buffer for now lol.

Oh, and the surprise? The winners will get some great fanart, courtesy of the talented @doshiart! Isn't that awesome?! 🥂

Cheers!

Keep reading to get a list of all the fics with their summaries and word count, as well as a list of all the authors, with links to their AO3 profiles.

FICS:

AITA? (2,072)

AITA? My new clients (29M and 31M) threatened me and I want to fire them. I know that’s not official therapist speak. TLDR; I want to encourage them to have healthier boundaries and find a new therapist, but until then, what do I do?

Attitude adjustment (4,483)

Post-canon Ian and Mickey figure out some relationship issues. That includes insults, (play-)fighting, more insults, and orgasms. Or: Mickey is having an attitude. Thank god Ian knows exactly what to do.

Black Charcoal meets Fiery Red (1,838)

Ian poses in a life drawing class. A straight forward job, if not for the guy with the blue eyes who can't stop staring at him.

Carnival (3,136)

Ian and Mickey spend the evening at a carnival... "Ian locked the car’s door, and put his arms around Mickey’s shoulders, as they walked towards the carnival. He had brought the leaflet home a few days ago, wiggling the colorful sketch of a carousel and the outdated font under Mickey’s nose with some hopeful glee. Mickey had protested for habit sake, but had caved in pretty easily..."

Five Dates with Brad f*cking Pitt (4,269)

Sometimes things may not be what they seem. Especially when there are assholes around who add fuel to the fire just for the sake of a fucking joke.

Groceries (2,260)

A routine trip to the store turns into a trip down memory lane.

The Guardians (4,879)

3,000 years ago, they had to join forces to defeat an evil sorcerer. Now, the sorcerer was back, and more powerful than ever. Could they defeat him for good?

i'll find a new place to be from (5,947)

They stand in silence for a couple beats, unspoken words lingering above their heads. The cig in his hand has long burned out and Ian resists the temptation to light up another, and another. He feels his mouth open, and close, then open again–but nothing comes out. Time’s up. "See you inside, Red," Mickey finally says before pushing the door open, and Ian remembers how to breathe.

Infused Attraction (3,434)

Mickey has to receive Iron infusions. Ian is a student nurse who is assisting the other nurses with the infusion. Mickey is interested in the redhead. Ian is seemingly interested in him too. Let's see how it goes!

Italy (I Trust And Love You) (3,183)

"Ian closed his eyes and ran a hand through his damp hair. He sighed and straightened his shoulders. Took a deep breath, as if to steal himself for some monumental task, and walked off down the sidewalk. The rain made quick work of drenching him. Ian didn’t seem to notice. In the dirt beneath the tree, drawn in crude blocky letters made with the toe of his boot: I + M." OR A story mostly told through Debbie's eyes during world war two, as she worries for all her brothers, but particularly the one sent home much before the rest.

Jump To Recipe (5,977)

Hiring Mickey Milkovich - Freelance Photographer to shoot the photos for his food blog was the best move Ian’s ever made. Mickey’s a fantastic shot, plus he’s committed to the success of Ian’s blog. (He’s fucking hot, too. But that’s just an added bonus.) And the best thing about him, is that in all the ways he’s professional behind the camera, he’s refreshingly unprofessional to Ian’s face. Which means when he comes around, Ian always knows he’s in for a good laugh, intriguing conversation, and an ego boost - Mickey never shy about how much he loves Ian’s food when they dig in after the shoot. Ian’s made chocolate lava cake today. But when extra time leads to their at-home appointment going way off script - Mickey wanting to update Ian’s headshots, but with a twist - who will the spicier photos leave wanting more, the “housewife army” from his blog’s comment section, or Ian and Mickey?

A Lot (4,245)

What could have happened if Ian had told Mickey that he was worried about going to Mexico with him?

The man in the van (2,141)

“Suppose I should thank you for the compliment then,” Ian teases, smirking a little. The guy snorts. “Don’t mention it, Red. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” He proceeds to shamelessly check Ian out again, licking the corner of his mouth as he does. or Ian Gallagher wouldn't mind some excitement in his life. Enter one Mickey Milkovich, ready to oblige.

ole red (5,596)

Mickey is out of prison and walking the straight and narrow with help of his cheering section, P.O. Larry . It’s hard being tough in a pastel polo and dad shorts. Old Army is just a paycheck until he meets the assistant manager, Ian. Finally he figures out Ian was Mandy’s Ian from their teen years. Mickey is attracted to the redhead but is still closeted. Ian responds to Mickey lashing out by revealing he knows Mickey’s secret. Mickey decides to be brave and the reward , huge 😈

The Reason to Exist (4,851)

lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: can you stop stealing my loot lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: this team only needs 1 sharpshooter anyway 😐 mm1234567890 [18:23]: shut up u f** lieutenantcolonel [18:23]: WHAT

Red Hot (4,364)

Ian's workday has been shitty... but his afternoon might just be very different. Thanks to his favorite nephew and a certain mouthy and opinionated stall owner at the winter farmer's market.

A Salute Before We Sink (4,601)

The world will end tomorrow. Ian's only chance at survival is to earn a spot in an underground bunker. One man stands in his way.

Snowballs and Sneaking Out (2,441)

Mickey shows up to the Gallagher House in the middle of the night with a surprise for Ian.

So drunk on you (3,878)

"Then Mickey launches himself into quite a detailed account of the previous evening and there goes Ian’s sanity. He’s learned over the months to hone his selective hearing. That is, he’s not tuning Mickey out completely but he’s trained his brain to gloss over the facts that fall under the TMI category and focus on the highlights. Again, for the sake of his sanity. Because the thing is, he’s so gone on Mickey it’s actually embarrassing. And he’s been gone pretty much from the very beginning." Just another friends-to-lovers story.

Span the Distance, Bridge the Border (4,988)

Ian and Mickey are happy, living on the West Side and adjusting to life as husbands in their new apartment. Things are going well, really well, until one day Mickey’s brothers show up. And God only knows what they could possibly want.

weight of the world (3,360)

Mickey thought he was fucked for life and that he’d never see his mom again. Turns out he was wrong about both of those things.

Wonderful- a Gallavich Christmas Mini-fic (5,030)

In which Mickey learns the reason for the season or How the Mick gained Christmas.

AUTHORS:

Blodeuwedd

Calli_Writes

Captain_Jowl

energie_vie

Gallabitch73

gallawitch

Gembu

GrandSelfMythology

IanGalagher

JuliaKay

lingy910y

MissSnowwhitepink

mmmichyyy

My_Brain_Melted

NotHereNJ

Rayrayor

sam_writes_fics

Suzy_Queue

sweet_perversion

Sweetbee78

whatthebodygraspsnot

whatyouandihave

#Gallavich #Ian x Mickey #Shameless #Shameless US #Gallavich fanfiction #Gallavich Masquerade 2023 #Events #Mod post #now updated

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years

Text

Coming Home (Part 6)

Azriel x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Warnings: Lil bit of spice in this part, lads 🌶️🌶️

If I’ve accidentally missed you off the tag list, please let me know so I can add you! ❤️

⧪

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d danced so much. The last time you’d laughed like this, beautiful and unguarded.

Lucien was…a riot. Exactly your kind of person, with his wicked humour forming witty remarks in your ear as he’d spun you round the dance floor, guiding you from one dance to the next. You knew you’d gained some attention for the simple fact that you hadn’t changed dance partners since you and Lucien had joined hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You’d forgotten what they were like — these parties. Lavish events that went on from dusk until dawn and sometimes beyond, the food and drinks constantly replenishing, the dancing feet of people never seeming to tire. You appreciated the lengths that Rhysand had gone to in celebrating your return; all the streamers and banners and decorations, the pure extravagance of the event that was held purely in your honour.

But at some point, some time in the early hours of the morning when the music continued unfaltered, the marvelling stares and whispers had begun to get a bit too much. Lucien had noticed the dip in your mood, your enthusiasm, straight away.

And that was what had led to the two of you sneaking out of the party together, bottles of faerie wine clutched in your hands as you left the packed throne room behind and wandered together around the Hewn City, the sheer size of it offering you at least a little bit more privacy. No one seemed to have noticed your exits.

Talking with Lucien as you strolled around was easy. You’d laughed, dipping into hidden alleys together whenever people’s gazes strayed to you, pressing yourselves against the walls and trying not to let your fit of laughter echo out as you hid. You felt like two naughty children sneaking off into forbidden places, and it was great. Light and airy and free.

“You know,” You hummed as you strolled beside the redhead, taking a long draw from the bottle in your hand. “I don’t think your mate likes me very much.”

Lucien snorted, prising the bottle from your palm and taking his own sip. “I don’t think she likes me very much, either.”

The two of you were most definitely, gloriously drunk, and perhaps that was why it was so easy to talk about things that usually clenched your heart so tightly. Through your short time alone, you’d both discussed the complex history of your families — him detailing the fraught relationship he had with his brothers, his father, and you dipping into some of the very deep, very hidden truths about your own father. About how you’d always suspected he hated you. How he’d seemed to see your lack of wings — lack of the Illyrian traits that Rhys had inherited from your mother — as a massive disappointment. It wasn’t something you liked to delve into if you could help it; Lucien seemed to make it as easy as breathing.

You hadn’t talked about Azriel, though. Yet.

“There’s truly no hope for you and Elain?” You asked softly; you couldn’t see what it was about Lucien that the middle Archeron sister could possibly have an issue with.

Stopping, Lucien leaned against the wall of a granite-hewn building and took another gulp of wine. “She can barely stand to be in the same room as me.” He swallowed. “And yet, the Shadowsinger merely breathes in her direction and it’s like he hung the moon for her. She comes alive.”

Such sad, biting bitterness in his voice. It was clear, even beneath all the wit and laughter and charm, the love he felt for his mate was a persistent wound that would never heal. You could understand that kind of pain, even if you didn’t have a mate yourself — understand the aching, gnawing feeling that rotted you from the inside while you watched the person you loved fall for somebody else.

You sucked in a deep breath, taking the bottle from him, and let your head fall back against the wall. “I get it. I’ve spent my life watching him pine for females. Firstly Mor — now Elain.” You swallowed a great gulp of the tangy wine you’d stopped tasting hours ago. “But me? Never me.”

Lucien’s gaze was a heavy weight as he turned to you, his intoxication becoming evident in the way his body slumped forward slightly, his shoulder brushing yours. “The Shadowsinger?”

“Mhm.”

“You love him?”

“Wildly.” You grimaced as the last dregs of the bottle disappeared. “Unfortunately.”

“Well.” The redhead blinked. “Fuck.”

You snorted — it was all you could do. Because if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, and scream, and shout and—

Lucien’s laughter joined yours, an easy, drunken chortle that rumbled deep in his chest and spread infectiously. Within seconds, the reason behind your hysterics was lost. The two of you were laughing because you could, and as Lucien steadied himself against the wall, a lazy grin pulled at his lips. He leaned closer to you — close enough that your faces were inches from each other.

“We’re the rejects, aren’t we?” The breath that fanned your face as he spoke smelled of the wine’s berries, and an impulsive part of you wanted to lean forward and taste it, lick it. Lick him.

“Uhuh. Rejects.” You murmured back, leaning in. You could just feel the whisper of his lips brushing yours, begging you to close that tiny little gap. His eyes roved yours inquisitively, like he was sizing up if you had the nerve.

You did. Or, at least, you would have — would have kissed him with wild, reckless, drunken abandon — had the approaching footsteps not stopped you in your tracks.

It was a cool clipping of boots against the cobblestoned street, and the whisper of wings, that announced your interruption. The tall, dark figure rounded the corner, and Azriel stilled before you and Lucien.

“Hello.” You chirped casually.

Azriel’s eyes slid to Lucien, flicking over his stance, the close proximity between the two of you. You could have sworn a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“The party is over.” His voice was short, clipped. “Rhys sent me to find you.”

“Well.” You pushed off the wall. “Here I am.”

Azriel glanced at Lucien again. “I’d get going, if I were you. Keir has been well behaved tonight, but I doubt that courtesy will last much longer.”

For a beat, Lucien said nothing, merely staring back at the Shadowsinger like he was weighing up a snarky response. After a tense moment, he, too, pushed off the wall, and he turned to you, that gorgeous half-smirk back on his lips.

“Lady.” He addressed you with a swift, flourishing bow at the waist. “I thank you for your company this evening. Welcome back to the court.”

His exit was nothing more than a chilled autumn breeze as he disappeared before your very eyes, leaving just you and Azriel in the dark, quiet street. You weren’t even sure how far you’d wandered from the party.

“Come.” Azriel murmured, turning on his feet.

You followed.

⧪

None of you returned to your homes immediately.

With the sun beginning to rise as you landed in Velaris, it was Mor who made an executive decision to take you all for an early breakfast in one of the cafes along the Sidra.

The mood surrounding your group as you occupied a table at the back was one of calm contentment. Undoubtedly, you were all still feeling the effects of the alcohol — probably you more than anyone — but as you chatted over steaming cups of tea and warm pastries, that ever-present weight on your shoulders felt somewhat lighter than usual.

Azriel was the only one who didn’t engage.

If his presence wasn’t already so noticeable, you may have forgotten he was there, from the way he sat quietly and stared forward, barely touching his tea. You didn’t dare to stare at him for too long, lest you catch that cold, brooding gaze.

With Velaris waking around you, the members of your group began to break off. Amren was the first to go, announcing she planned to sleep for at least an entire day. Cassian practically swept Nesta off her feet and shot into the skies with barely a goodbye. Feyre and Rhys stood soon after that, and not particularly wanting to be one of the last left behind, you accepted your brother’s offer to see you home before he and the High Lady turned in themselves.

Back at your house, the silence enveloped you. You’d not long moved in, and the smell of fresh paint, of brand new furniture, had a very clinical feel about them that didn’t exactly warm you as you stood in your bedroom, peeling out of your dress. Your only saving grace was the exhaustion beginning to drag you down, hopefully enough to pull you into sleep before your loneliness crept in. Your bed was huge, the unoccupied side of it noticeably empty and cold.

After barely managing to remove your makeup and change into your nightgown, you fell between the sheets and allowed your eyes to flutter shut, memories of the evening, of your dancing and smiling and genuine laughter, comforting you enough for your breathing to slow, your eyes growing heavy.

You were just drifting off when you heard it — the dull thud outside of the glass doors that led from your bedroom, out onto the balcony.

You sat up, suddenly aware of the room darkening — of a huge figure blocking the daylight that had been streaming through in hues of pinks and buttery yellows.

Azriel stood on your balcony, his eyes meeting yours through the glass. You threw the quilt off your body, not even caring about your flimsy little nightgown as you stalked over to the doors and yanked them open.

“Do you have a particular aversion to knocking on the front door?” You snapped. “You know — like a normal person?”

Azriel stared back at you, his expression unreadable. His gaze dipped down, taking in the column of your throat. The cut of your figure through the silky material.

“We need to talk.” He said.

“You could have talked to me at breakfast.”

His eyes, suddenly deeper — heated and hungry — flicked from the peak of your breasts through your nightgown, back up to your face. “No, I couldn’t.”

A small, petty part of you, still hurt from his rejection, from the harsh words he’d spoken to you, wanted to turn him away. To slam the glass doors in his face and climb back into bed like your heart wasn’t thudding wildly.

But you didn’t have that sort of resolve. Not where Azriel was concerned.

With a soft, relenting sigh, you stepped aside, pulling both the doors wide open to accommodate the span of his wings as he entered with a graceful lope.

You watched — as he strode in, still in his clothes from the party. He stopped in the middle of your bedroom, his eyes roving over the decor, the various trinkets you owned, the painting Feyre had gifted you as a moving-in present. Slowly, with such lethal precision, he turned on his feet to face you.

“Well?” You pushed, shutting the doors behind you. The cool air certainly didn’t help with the hardened peaks of your breasts. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Lucien Vanserra is Elain’s mate.” He said.

You cocked an eyebrow. “I’m aware of that. Thank you.”

He took a step towards you. “So what were you doing with him tonight? Why did you leave the party with him?”

Studying his face, the realisation dawned on you — the direction in which his mind — and most of their minds — had probably taken when you’d wandered off with the redhead in tow. A small slither of satisfaction filled you as you read the ire in Azriel’s eyes.

You barked a laugh. “You think I fucked him?”

Azriel shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time, from what I’ve heard.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” You acknowledged with a casual shrug. “But if you had visions of me leaving the party and riding him into oblivion in the fucking centre of the Hewn City, you’re very much mistaken, Azriel.”

“Even still.” That same, telling muscle in his jaw moved. “You were being reckless. Drinking and giggling and flirting with him. Everybody knows he’s a mated male. The kind of shame, of humiliation, those actions would put on Elain—“

“So that’s why you’re here?” You cut him off. “To defend Elain’s honour?” The thought of it left you cold and reeling.

“I’m here,” He took another slow step towards you, “to advise you to stay away from Lucien.”

Folding your arms tighter, you clenched your jaw. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“He’s Elain’s mate. Elain’s.”

It was then that the fraught tether on your anger snapped. Perhaps it had been building up since your confrontation at the clinic — or perhaps since long before then. Whatever it was, that well deep inside you that you usually kept sealed, full of longing and loneliness, anger and sadness, of pure fucking love that would never be reciprocated — it spilled over.

“How many times a day do you repeat those very words to yourself, Az?” You laughed coldly. “Is that how you keep hold of your control? What you repeat to yourself over and over to stop you from sinking your cock into Elain?”

Azriel moved so fast, you barely had a chance to register the flash of darkness. You were lifted off your feet, and suddenly you were pressed against the wall, Az’s body warm and solid against yours as he glared down at you, a guttural growl ripping from the depths of his throat.

“Watch yourself, Y/N.” He bit.

You almost laughed. Because all of this — every bit of it — you found it thrilling. Seeing Azriel lose his signature cool calm, feeling the way his body pressed against yours and anger sparked off of him in little zips of lightning that snaked their way through your veins and lit you up from the inside.

He was close — so close. His heavy breathing fanned your face, and you could almost hear how hard he clenched his teeth.

“Why should I?” You said — tested him. Such a reckless, stupid game to play, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself.

Azriel’s head dipped. For a split second, you thought…you thought maybe he would kiss you. But then his nose brushed the column of your neck, the fine strands of his hair tickling your cheek.

“If it were Elain I wanted to sink my cock into,” He said, his voice a deep, vicious purr, “I could have done so long ago.”

Hell — you didn’t doubt his words. You’d seen the way Elain simpered around him, her cheeks a brilliant pink, her eyes vibrant. She liked to play the coy, sweet thing, but you imagined how thoroughly she’d give herself to Azriel if he offered.

So why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t he taken the chance? Simply to keep relations with Lucien civil?

All thoughts, all potential quick-witted responses, had eddied from your mind. He’d beaten you at your own game, rendered you useless with his proximity, his scent. With his nose that continued to brush your neck, the feel of his skin against yours.

You wanted more of it. All of it. To rid yourself of all your clothes and barriers, to feel every intricate inch of him against you.

Azriel caught on to the change in your scent immediately. He stiffened against you as your legs trembled. You wondered if he’d pull away and fly out of the doors without another word — but then his forehead fell against your shoulder, pressed into it, and he emitted a soft, frustrated groan.

“…Az?” You whispered.

“Don’t move.”

You wanted to listen — really, you did. But you’d never been much good at listening or taking direction. Shaking so hard you thought you may slide out from his grip and down the wall, you shifted your body.

The tiny change in position told you precisely why he’d said what he had when the long, hard length of him pushed through his trousers, up against your stomach. You sucked in a sharp breath, the exhalation causing you to move against him.

Azriel struck.

He ripped his head up, and in one fluid dip, his mouth was on yours, pressing a forbidden, bruising kiss to your lips.

You didn’t hesitate for a second. You kissed him back — hard, passionate — the kiss you’d hoped for on the balcony on Starfall. The one you’d imagined so long before that, and so many times since.

Azriel’s hands slid to your waist, the warmth of his palms pressing through your flimsy nightgown. He was so big, towering so much over you, that he had to lift you up just to keep your mouths joined. Another gasp had your mouth opening, and he grasped the opportunity while it was there, sliding his tongue in to dance around yours.

Gods — the taste of him, the feel of him — you wished you could bottle every element of that kiss and keep it for yourself. You tangled your hands within the silken strands of his hair, tugging just hard enough for him to grunt into your mouth.

You breathed heavily against his lips, “I want you.”

“Mm. No.” He grunted — growled — again. “We can’t.”

The refusal would have stung — if he didn’t follow those two, horrid words with another searing kiss. You let go of your grip on his hair, instead fisting the material of his tunic in your hands as you yanked him closer — harder — against you. You lightly nipped at his bottom lip.

The gasp he emitted turned into another one of those low, frustrated whines that you swallowed greedily. “Why can’t I stop?”

“I don’t want you to.” You breathed, kissing him again.

He kissed you back — not the heady exchange of passion that it’d been seconds before, but a quick, chaste kiss that he didn’t allow to linger. A peck — but slightly firmer, deeper. He did it a second time, a third, and just as you were about to open up for him again, he pulled away.

You could see the rise and fall of his chest through his black shirt as he stared at you, his bruised and swollen lips slightly parted, his dark hair tousled.

His eyes swept over you. You could only imagine what he saw — how flushed you probably were all over, how visibly your legs trembled. The peak of your nipples through your nightgown — a reaction provoked solely by him.

As he stared — and stared and stared and stared — realisation began to dawn in his eyes. He blinked, as though stepping out of a trance. Touched his scarred fingers to his lips and gently pinched them, as though he couldn’t quite believe what they’d just been doing.

You knew that look — the one of regret that was rapidly emerging from the one of desire. He blinked again. Took a step back.

“Az…” You murmured, daring a single step towards him.

He shook his head. Shook himself out of his thoughts. His face looked truly shell-shocked. “I need to leave.”

The punch to your heart was palpable. “Please don’t skip out on me now.”

“I have to leave.” He said again. In stiff, stunned movements so unlike his usual grace, he stalked back over to the balcony doors.

What could you do besides watch him? Even with your heart shattering inside you, that painful sting of something being dangled in front of you, just for it to be ripped away, you couldn’t stop him from running off into the morning light. You couldn’t begin to think of how much worse you’d make things if you tried.

Az ripped the doors open once more, and he turned his body just slightly. Just to look at you once more. A frown had darkened his features.

Without a word, he stepped out, and took a huge leap off the balcony, his wings carrying him off into the distance.

Tags: @safetypinxtales @historygeekqueen @smartiepants217 @mulansaucey @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @issybee0611 @goldentournesol @percyjacksonspeen @high-bi-andreadytocry @esposadomd @positivewitch @bsenpai @cityofidek @shannonsaid @topaz125 @azzydaddy @nobody00sthings @sfhsgrad-blog @elizarikaallen @hanasakr @ruleroftides @mis-lil-red

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jamiedc-they-them · 9 months

Text

Family (Platonic)

This one is a bit long!!! Nimona was so good, and meant so much to me! Wanted to do this as soon as I saw the film and have finally completed it! Just a quick warning, story contains some mentions of self doubt over lgbt identity, some mentions of Suicidal Ideation, and I think that is all (if I have forgotten anything, please let me know!!!). All my love to my lgbt siblings with everything going on right now <333 you matter so damn much! And this film coming at a time like this (and even more so after I learnt about the author of the graphic novel!) is everything!

Also, all my love to the WGA and SAG-AFTRA, keep fighting the good fight!!! I wouldn’t be here writing this (or really any fanfic) without your incredible writing and work! <333

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Nimona and Y/N are not siblings by blood, but choice, friendship, and loyalty. They find that support and acceptance in each other; but, when they catch wind of a knight who is just has hated as them, they see an opportunity to find someone else to add to their family.

If you had parents, you didn’t know them.

You just remembered always being out in the streets, just about standing by.

You never stole, you just took whatever left others you either found, or were given out of sympathy.

Pity did get you a long way, you had to admit.

People felt sorry for you, but then did nothing else to help you.

While it hurt, it never really put a chip on your shoulder. There was nothing anything you could do anyway. You couldn’t fight. You didn’t have a lot of strength in you.

One time, a group of people decided to leverage that. People like you; left behind and given nothing but scraps. Instead of coming together, however, they saw you as a weak link; something to blame for their issues and lot in life.

Just when you thought that would be it for you, someone called out. The pain stopped, but even if it lingered. You weren’t hit again. Your hearing was fuzzy, eyesight blurry.

You blacked in and out a few times.

When you came to, you are on a couch. You hear someone humming. You sit up, slowly, and see a girl around your age cooking.

“Oh, hey!” She says, turning back to you with a smile on her face, “don’t worry about those guys,” she assures you, “I took care of them.”

She seems almost proud.

Still, you just feel good that they’re gone now.

“You can have some of this, if you want,” she says, gesturing to her food.

“I don’t…I don’t want to be a burden,” you say.

You hear a growl, and see a red tiger in front of you, baring it’s teeth, “who said that?” She demands.

“No one really. Just…just the vibe, I guess?”

You look down, subconsciously; the girl seems to notice this, only watching you as you scramble to find the words you need. Then —

“I’m sorry…for not – for not knowing anymore. Could use someone like you out there.”

You feel something on your leg. Looking down, you see a red cat, rubbing itself on your leg. It looks up at you, before jumping on the couch.

“It’s not your fault, kid,” the cat says, “we’ll find them.”

You stroke the cat again. You feel safe. Sure, it’s a talking cat, but the cat was a girl a minute ago. You’ve seen what the world can hold magic wise. You know different things exist. Some people thrown out for all sorts of things they can’t control; this is that for her.

“‘We’?” You echo back to her, as she changes back to her redheaded form, arms crossed with a smirk on her face.

“Hell yeah, us!” She says, arms now up in the air, “we can watch each others back! Like a –“ her eyes light up, “like a sidekick!”

Something in your eyes brighten; something in hers soften, slightly.

They both do that a bit more as your smile widens, “ok then, where do we start?”

“Well, how about names?” She says, but there’s excitement in her eyes, “I’m Nimona!” She says, holding her hand out.

“I’m…” you say, holding out your hand and then pausing, “oh…”

She seems to catch onto what you mean, “I have a bunch of lists of names if you want to look?” She offers.

You nod, eagerly, and she fetches it – throwing some other items over her shoulder while she looks. She presents it to you. It’s a massive scroll that unfurls, “take your pick!” She says, arms outstretched to it like a ‘ta-da’ like pose. She’s proud of it.

You do pick one, even if it takes a bit of time. Still, you find one that works for you:

Y/N.

“Had a feeling you’d like that one,” she says, “I like it!”

You smile again. She does too, even if hers looks a bit like a snarl in a way; seems she’s already thinking of the damage you’ll do together. For you though, it’s about not being alone anymore.

You do get up to trouble. A lot of trouble. You paint art on walls; you play pranks on the guards so you can get somewhere – or sometimes just for fun.

Nimona’s ability to shapeshift is so damn cool. Internally, she feels a spark of happiness she hasn’t felt in a long time at your genuine acceptance and awe of her ability.

She, in turn, helps you find yourself as well. Your style, clothing wise. She notes things that make you uncomfortable as well. Sometimes that leads to deep chats; like the one you have about your lack of care for anything to do with sex or romance, or gender norms.

All she has to say to that is, “metal. Norms are for losers, anyway. I mean, end of the day, you’re Y/N, and I’m Nimona. That’s all that matters.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s something small or major that changes identity wise, her words are always the same and always true.

Her loyalty to you is the same as yours is to hers. You’re always defending her – despite her not always needing it – and backing her up in fights.

You always assure her she has you. You see her moments of vulnerability. Where the mask sort of drops. She always appreciates it. As while she’s not like you in the way of comforting people, she tries to learn from your softness and comforting manners.

You’re all each other have. At least, for a while anyway. You see the news of the manhunt for a man who killed the queen. Someone almost as hated as you are.

Nimona looks to you, and you know what your best friend is thinking.

So, you track him down. She does the talking; though at one point Ballister does look at you and seem to start implying you’re a monster to, and says, “hey, don’t look at them. Look at me,” he complies as he sees you looking around his room. You’re a curious thing.

“What — um, who are…?”

She raises an eyebrow, “they,” she starts, “are Y/N. My best friend and partner in crime and all things evil,” she then leans forward, “and I’m Nimona.”

“Yes…but, what does that mean?” He asks, trying not to piss her off. In his mind, scared he’ll become one of her – he’s sure – many victims.

A smirk appears on her face as she answers, “whatever we want it to mean.”

“Right. Yes. Ok,” he says, “that’s understandable.”

He sees you fiddling with one of his spare arms, “please be careful with that!” He says in fear. You put it back carefully, backing away from it. Nimona raises an eyebrow, letting you handle this. She knows you’re tougher than you look. Don’t get her wrong, you look better now; both a bit more comfortable in your own skin, but also decently fed.

“What is that?” You ask.

“Oh…it’s one of my spares. Just an old prototype I guess, for this,” he says, gesturing to his arm.

“Hm,” you say, looking at it and then the old version, “it’s always nice to have a spare.”

“Like a sidekick!” Nimona says, adding it one to try and persuade the knight – or ex-knight you guessed.

“No, no! Those things do not match!”

“Oh, come on!” Nimona snaps at Ballister. You just watch the interaction go on. She’s always been a stubborn one.

Still, he leaves on his own. You sigh, looking to your friend, “come on,” you say, opening the door to go to where he will end up.

“Ok, kid. You ok with a quick flight?” Nimona asks you as you look at the scale of the building. It’s intimidating; that, and heights were never your thing.

You gulp, “y-yeah.”

“Alright!” She says, happy you’re trying to put yourself out there more.

So, up you go. Despite the fact that she can shapeshift, she keeps you in mind as well as you sneak into the cells section. You do, however, keep watch, letting her go into the cell and break Ballister out the old fashion way – and the way she more enjoys, violently punching the release.

In the closet, you help keep it closed, finding more items. Out of the two, you’ve always been the more resourceful one.

She gives you a single look after Ballister makes his promise. You know what she’s going to do, so you just pull Ballister back a bit as Nimona shifts once again.

Having had some close calls and only gotten away via her shifting, you’re able to stay on better than Ballister, though you do help him when you can reach him. As for you and Nimona, however, you’re pretty much in synch with each other.

However, then comes the need for an exit. You know Nimona can fly, but she can’t hold both of you. So —

“I’ll lead them away,” you say, not allowing anyone to stop you as you take off in the opposite direction.

“Y/N, no! Come back!” Nimona calls out to you. She knows you are quick on your feet, but this is a bad place to try to be. Don’t get her wrong, she’s having fun causing havoc, but now what she might gain in a boss, she may lose a friend. She won’t do that.

Still, nothing she can do. Boss comes first.

So, off she goes, getting them both to the floor.

“Do you see them?” Nimona asks; and he hears the concern in her voice. She’s violent, but cares a lot. He respects that. Despite being surround and fighting, he tries as much as he can to keep an eye out for you.

“There!” He shouts, pointing up before dodging another strike.

Nimona turns as well, smirking, but concern still in her eyes as she sees you near a ledge. You don’t even think about it, you just jump.

So, with the wings once again, she flies upwards, dodging any attacks, before catching you and bring you down to the ground.

You both roll, before joining the Frey once again. You’ve never been as good in fights as her, but your agility and quick thinking does help. Nimona goes more aggressive once she sees Ballister in trouble. You go around some of the guards to help, but you’re taken down too.

That’s only enrages her further.

After you escape, you both start to bond with him. And, he seems a bit more at ease with you both now. You did break him out after all. So, he lets you help. Being a bit more open to ideas.

You all get down to the subway, seeing your wanted images. Somehow, you had never been photographed, so you were just a question mark. Seemed fitting, in a way, you guessed.

“Hm, no,” your best friend says, looking from you to the question mark you, “I don’t see the semblance.”

You roll your eyes, and she just giggles to herself. Ballister watches you both, eyes softening slightly at your genuine friendship and connection.

On the subway, he asks you guys, “so, how long have you both known each other?”

You share a look; her’s is asking if you want to say it, and also asking if you are ok with it being said; yours is the same.

You both shrug. She goes first with her tale, using it to make fun of Ballister.

He still seems a little disturbed by her ability to shift, even asking her to go back a to the ‘normal’ version of her. You both raise eyebrows at him. Sure, he tries to cover up by saying that it’s for other people, and not him, but you don’t exactly buy it.

“Are some of your best friends, ‘normal’?” You say, having heard that before with some people trying to cover up their hatred for you by saying that they know others. It’s bullshit.

“What? I — I, no… No, that’s not what I meant —“ he says, trying to correct his error.

“Too late,” you say, folding your arms, looking away.

Nimona changes back to her human self, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” Ballister says. You keep looking away.

“Boss means it, Y/NN,” Nimona says, squeezing your shoulder a bit.

Ballister goes to say something else, but Nimona only holds up a hand. He nods, knowing that this is your moment. You need your own breather.

After a moment, you look up at him, seeing his eyes holding a genuine guilt to it. And a plead to make this all better. It’s the first time someone other than Nimona has looked at you. Like a person. A friend, maybe even.

You look at your best friend, the only person you’ve ever been able to call family, and she gives you a smile. You mirror it, putting your hand on top of hers.

“Thanks, Nim,” you say softly.

She removes her hand, before nudging you with her arm, “course, squirt. You and me, right?” She says, holding out her pinky finger. You link yours to hers.

“You and me. Nimona and Y/N.”

“And that’s all that matters.”

Ballister smiles. Then a thought comes to him about the question he asked but didn’t get answers to.

“Are you guys siblings?”

You look at each other again, and nod in sync.

“Closest we’ll ever get to it.”

“That’s cool,” he says, “seriously. Having a friend is…it must be nice.”

Again, you share a look; your journeys have been rough, and you’ve saved each other more times than you can count, but he’s right.

Nimona changes to a small boy, and you smile at her comment of “I am today,” before she goes off to do her part of this hastily cobbled together plan.

Ballister notices your look, “what’s wrong?”

“Just…it’s weird.”

Ballister chuckles, but not in a mean why; more surprise than anything else, “can’t be, especially not compared to my day so far.”

You nod, only really half listening. But, the words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, “I don’t…I don’t feel a fit in with…all this,” you say, pointing to him and then a random woman across the road, “and Nim…she’s fluid with it, you know? Labels don’t really matter to her. I like them. But…I can’t find the right ones. We do our names, and it works and it…I mean, it’s a statement and I love that, really. I just — I don’t know.”

“We’ll find it,” he says, not catching himself on the first word, “trust me, from what I’ve seen of Nimona, she’d burn it all down for you to find it.”

“We’ve taken up too much time,” you say, clearing your throat, gesturing for him to follow you, as you watch the man Nimona was – well, once distracting, but now chasing, went around the corner, “sorry.”

You don’t give him time to say anything back in return, you just take his hand and lead him out into the street once again, trying to find a getaway.

He recognises someone; the one with the punchable face? Maybe, you can’t quite remember. Either way, Ballister is terrified.

He hastily gets you into the vehicle with him, but you do see Nimona with a giddy smile as she shuts the boot.

Then, off you go, though Nimona does call out to you to get down.

With nothing but blind luck, you make it to an alley way. Ballister freaks out at Nimona being hurt, but she doesn’t show it hurts that much. You’re sure it does, but not as much as what is going on inside of her. You sit on the boot of the vehicle as they talk, though they do make their conversation loud enough to make you feel included.

You watch with soft eyes at the interaction, and how Nimona describes it all. When she jumps down when saying “I just wouldn’t be me,” she puts a hand on your leg too, “just like they wouldn’t be them.”

She then nudges you, “go on, bud,” she says softly, gesturing over to the bench, “go have your lil session. I’ll stay with this guy,” she says, jumping up on the boot, legs swinging.

Silently, you go over to Ballister. He looks at a cut on your arm. You aren’t entirely sure when you got it, but he does what he can to clean it.

“May I try ask again how you met?”

“Sure,” you say, looking to Nimona, she nods, encouraging smile in tow, “not the greatest of origin stories. I was always a street rat,” a crumbled up piece of paper hits your head, thrown by your best friend, “Was just always out on the streets. Never remembered anything from before. Guess either I was abandoned by parents dying, or they just left me.”

Ballister pauses, looking at you with sympathy. Nimona’s eyes are casted down to the floor. Like noted before, your lives weren’t easy, even if you had each other. The chaos was always fun, when you guys controlled it. Rebellion was something you both loved, but you were always focused more on survival than rebellion; even though you tried.

“I’m so sorry.”

You give him a sad smile, “I have my moments where…” you drift off. Nimona’s eyes shoot right up to your figure. She knows where your thoughts are going.

“Your parents were either unlucky, or bad people,” she says, “if it’s the latter, then they lost out on someone awesome.”

“Thanks, Nim.”

“No, she’s right,” Ballister says in support, “you’re a sweet, kid. You’re loyal, and kind.”

“But I don’t know who I am.”

“Well, if it helps, I thought I liked girls when I was around your age,” you chuckle softly at that after he does.

“I don’t think I want that from anyone,” you admit. Nimona smiles, glad you feel safe enough to say it. It’s your own small rebellion; she can’t be prouder of you, even muttering out a small ‘hell yeah’ under her breath.

“That’s cool,” Ballister says; you scrunch your eyes brows up slightly, not expecting him to say that, “we want what we want from life. And…if I may ask, about the other thing?”

“…I – I don’t…I don’t think ‘he’ or ‘she’ fit me. I mean,” you look to Nimona in self consciousness, “I know that’s swapping one label for another, but —”

“Labels can help us find a home in ourselves,” she says, wisely. Ballister looks to her, seeing her gaze soft as she continues, “sometimes they change. But, as long as it’s your choice on it changing, then it’s all cool with me.”

You nod, but Nimona catches the slight guilt in your eyes. She hops off the boot, approaching you as Ballister finishes his work on the cut – having only resumed it after your addition, “I always said I’ll tell ya as many times as you need. And I don’t mind, really,” she says, putting an arm on your good shoulder, “you’re my little buddy. My best friend. You’re Y/N, and who that is may shift and change, but you’re still you at the core of that.”

Emboldened by your friends and the feeling of safety to be honest, you look to the man in the boot, “shall we?”

The two look to the man, who then speaks. Saying he’s happy for you all, but now really just wants to be let go.

“Oh, yeah,” your best friend says, cracking her knuckles.

You get the video evidence that’s you need. This is it, your boss – and maybe even friend at this point – can be free. Sure, it pisses you both off at his want to still believe in this system – this system that is built to hate people like you – but you still go with him. Nimona says she’s in it because everyone hate’s Ballister too; and yes, that is part of your reasoning too – you guys aren’t alone anymore. But…if you’re honest with yourself, it’s mainly the latter part to that. To find your crew, you go by your labels and accept you fully.

The plan goes well, and you all escape together this time. Ballister holding you as you fly away.

“Why didn’t we think of this the first time?” You shout over the wind.

“We’re not very smart!” Nimona says with a chuckle.

“You have your moments, though?” Ballister asks, cheekily.

You both laugh this time, “seems so!” You say in sync.

Back at Ballister’s, the events of everything, including another brawl - this time you were more successful - though Ballister was almost taken in but you guys won, and feeling of safety, allows you to sleep soundly for once. Nimona runs a hand through your hair, head in her lap. Ballister puts a blanket over her.

“Don’t wake them, Boss,” is all Nimona says, quietly.

Ballister chuckles quietly, “I won’t, don’t worry,” he assures, before going to his computer.

Nimona soon falls asleep herself.

When Ballister meets with Ambrosius, nothing on your past comes up. Ambrosius is question on it, and says, “I’m sorry, Bal. I really am. I think that (he/she) —“

“They,” he interjects.

“Ok, sorry, yes,” Ambrosius says, correcting himself, “I think they may of met Nimona and been taken down a path. But,” he reaches out and takes Ballister’s hands in his own, “you can stop this. You can save them. We can.”

When Ballister comes back, Nimona seemingly has a sixth sense about this. She wakes up, happy, but slightly on edge when she sees the look on his face. Carefully, she removes herself from you.

“What are you?” Ballister seethes.

“We aren’t doing this here,” Nimona says, moving to the back of the couch, as if a shield.

“Answer me.”

“You aren’t dragging them into this,” she says, a fiery protectiveness in her gaze, “do you know how much they’ve been –“

“How much as done because of you?” That stings, she won’t lie, “you drag them around with you into your schemes. They’re an innocent pers-“

“Exactly,” Nimona says, keeping her voice quiet, but letting the anger still roll through her words, “so, if you wanna blame someone, which you oh so apparently do, then blame me, ok?”

“What’s going on?” You say, slurred as you still adjust to the world. You blink a few times, before slowly sit up on the sofa. You turn to your friends, and both have angry looks on their faces, “what’s wrong?”

“Gloreth,” Ballister says, “the darkness she was fighting to keep out? It was her,” he says, ripping the bandaid off instantly.

You look to Nimona, eyes wide, but not filled with fear, just shock.

“Y/N…” Nimona says, seemingly only seeing what she wants to.

“Nim,” you say, taking her hands in your own, “it doesn’t matter,” despite the reassurances, her mind is already made up. Those voices that she’s kept at bay for herself, and help you fight – and you have returned the favour in both small and large ways – are back in full force. You can see it on your friend…on your sister’s face. It pains you to no end.

“Get away from her, Y/N,” Ballister advices.

“No,” you say, firmly.

“Y/N, please…” you hate how her voice cracks a bit, looking at you.

“Hey, what was it you always said? We’re all we’ve got. You and me, yeah?”

“Don’t you understand what she is. She’s a —”

“No,” you spit, looking to Ballister, who is a bit taken aback, “it doesn’t matter. It matters who she really is. She’s Nimona. Just like I’m Y/N, and you’re Ballister. You’re the ex-knight. I’m the street rat, and Nimona is the reason this broken system was made in the first place.”

“It’s not broken,” Ballister says, running a hand through his hair.

“It always has been!” You shout, he jumps, “don’t you get that? Someone framed you for power. That power is used to make people like me hate themselves. It turns people against each other. It tears people apart, and you still support it!”

“Because it keeps us safe from monsters who want to destroy it!” He can’t stop the words as they tumble out. But, as soon as he sees you both flinch, he wants to take it back.

Nimona runs first, and as you go to follow, you pause at Ballister’s door, “you know, I really thought you’d be different,” the words strike him just like Ambrosius’ sword did. Then, you’re gone.

He slams his hand onto the table, swiping objects away. One gets his attention, that old arm he’d made. The spare. The useful spare. The one that got him through a lot before this better one.

Sure, he knew the metaphor didn’t completely work, but you were curious being. You just wanted to find safety, and Nimona just wanted to find that as well. You were both just looking for love in a world that hid it from you because of who you were.

He remembered when he first came out, how it was rocky. You were both young (sure, Nimona was old in terms of this story of her, but she was a young girl in physical form) and your lives had been several levels below rocky.

You and Nimona were all you had. He…god he realises, he was part of that too. For a moment, they let someone else in. Let someone else be a lifeline.

The words he’d said…he could see on Nimona’s face when she looked at you that something had changed in your dynamic as soon as he said it. She looked at you like she was a poison, and there was no antidote. He always remembered your words, about how at the beginning you would…oh, oh he knows what you mean now by what you wanted to do.

That pain because you couldn’t be free; you couldn’t completely be you. Oh no. Oh god.

He finds his sword. The thing that started him on this path. A path that led him to you both. Two spirited, loyal people.

He then feels the ground shake. He looks to the tv. He knows who that is. He knows who is on one last run.

“Good Gloreth,” he says, before running out of the door, just hoping that he isn’t too late. That he can make this right. As right as he can, anyway.

As for you, you try all you can to get Nimona’s attention, and she only flies away. God, you hate it; you’ve never really been out to this part of the walled off city before. You don’t know where she would go. You go to the town. There’s an abandoned building you went to one time when at a low. Nimona saved you that day, flying up to you and sitting with you. It must’ve been hours, but she managed to get you down and home. Sure, that location changed. But Nimona was a constant. She was family. She was home. She was security; always there for a pep talk or defence. You were always there with a plan or a way out. She’d always follow them, executing them to a T. You just worked.

You affirmed each other. Any doubts you’d talk about. You’d clean swap clothes, steal some if they didn’t fit or felt wrong. Tag areas with different names, but the same style so everyone knew it’s was you.

You feel a rumble as you reach the top of the building. A dark, shadowy creature, makes its way into town. Stomping over things, but not hitting anything. The only time it does is when it’s shot, screeching out in pain as it falls down.

You know who it is. You recognise a part of the scream.

It’s Nimona.

You look down the building, a hell of a drop. You see more of the flying vehicles going for her. Quickly, you do some calculations. You take a few steps back. Don’t get yourself wrong, you’re not in the healthiest of mindsets right now. If you miss, it’s a big drop, and then…well, whatever comes next. But, you have to try this. You have to try and protect your family as best you can. So, counting down quickly, you run.

You jump.

You land right on one of the vehicles. The guard is too shocked to really do anything. So, you push him with all your might, and he falls, but catches himself. You just focus on the controls of this thing. Not that many. It’s simple, but effective. It works.

So, despite some near crashes, you sort of get the hang of this thing. You use it to shoot at the attackers hurting Nimona. Some fire back at at you, others dodge and keep going at this person they decided needs to be put down for the benefit of the people.

You try your most, even get lucky, but there’s a lot of carnage going on; all their own doing.

You see, however, what Nimona is making a bee line for. The sharp end of a sword that was pointed at her so long ago.

You race forward, not even noticing your previous guard friend managing to climb back up. He wrestles with you for the controls. Once again sending you pretty much into things. However, he then pulls the breaks, but catches you before you fall. He’s not looking at you now, he’s looking at Nimona, who is stood in front of the sword, white, beating heart out.

“NO!” You cry, sending the vehicle forward once again. You get to the sword, jumping off it. The guard tries to stop you, but just misses.

“Stop —“ he calls. But, a new voice stops him.

“They’re with me!” Ballister, “they’re with me.”

He looks at you; so many apologies and silent words being sent at you at once.

You nod, “later,” you say, before running to save your sister. He follows. You both hold her back. She looks down at you.

Ballister apologises to her as well. She looks to you.

“Please don’t,” is all you can say, “I need my sister. I need my sister,” you say, repeating it as your tears finally leak.

She changes back, and you both catch her. She looks a mess, beaten to high hell, but alive.

“I love you too,” she says to you as the three of you hug. You pull back, looking at her with elation -she’d always shown it, never said it; but you did always, sort of selfishly, wanted to hear her say it – and she chuckles tiredly and brings you into a hug of just the two of you, “I need my sibling in my life too. Besides, you rebelled completely against them,” she says, having seen you on the roof and your stunt, “guess I could do something a bit different, yeah?”

You chuckle, tightening the hug. It feels right. Like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Ballister joins, and it mostly feels complete.

A hug of a family. Of people who love and accept each other.

People soon start running again, and you all see a giant cannon aimed directly at you all. You all look at the citizens, knowing it will hurt them as well.

“No –“ you say, looking to Nimona, knowing what she is planning.

She smiles, however; her mind is mind up.

She kisses you on the forehead, “I love you,” she mumbles, before giving Ballister a wink, “take care of them for me, Boss.”

“Nimona,” Ballister says, trying to stop her. To try find another way.

However, “we know I’m fast enough to stop that thing,” she says, “and we’re wasting too much time. I get to punch someone with a punchable face, like really hard,” she then looks back to you, and sees you about to break again, “hey,” she says, cupping your face in her hands, “I’ll always be here,” she puts her hand on your chest, “you’ve got this. You’re gonna build a new, better, world.”

With that, she turns into a phoenix, and flies right into the cannon. The explosion rocks the wall, creating a massive gap in it. What does it show? It shows that the outside world is beautiful, that they had anything to fear. There is danger there, but also beauty. So much beauty.

Ballister and you go down to try and find Nimona, instead you only find red specs flying around.

You curl up into a ball, letting out sobs.

Ambrosius comforts Ballister, but saw how you were with the guardsman above. Granted in glimpses, but given your friendship with Nimona, your distrust of this system that he too is now questioning is understandable. So, he lets Ballister take his time before bringing you into a hug as you both cry for your fallen friend.

Some time passes, and you are all called heroes. You move in with Ballister, and your friendship rebuilds. He becomes this role model to you of perseverance and light. Softness and love. He becomes a sort of parental figure. He supports you when you stumble, and you do the same for him.

Ambrosius respects your boundries. He’s a nice person, even if you have your many issues with the system. He listens, like actually listens to them, and does what he can to set them right. He knows it will take time, but he knows you’ll appreciate the effort.

It’s slow going with him, but he is sweet. He’s kind. So, you are warming up to him. And he’s getting to know you. And, you do have to admit, him and Bal are sweet.

One day, when you’re in home alone, Bal and Ambrosius out on a date, you hear something. It’s like the wind, but that’s not possible as it’s a peaceful day. You then turn, seeing a glare of light. It gets brighter and brighter —

And then it stops. You lower your hand, and drop your bowl of popcorn. It doesn’t break, but the effect is there.

“Hey, champ,” you hear her say.

And you barrel right into Nimona’s awaiting arms. She chuckles, spinning you around before putting you back on the ground, “oh, look at you!” She says, turning your head with her hands, noting the subtle changes to your style and your looks, “you look so good!”

You chuckle, before going in for another hug. She hugs you back just as tightly.

She shuts her eyes, hoping to hold this moment in her mind forever; just as you are as well.

She pulls back, then looks to the TV, “what you watching, squirt?” She asks. You grab her hand, and pull her to it, hopping over it, which she mirrors on the other side, before now sharing the blanket with her and handing her the bowl and filling it up with more popcorn.

You hit play, and both watch the TV.

Bal comes back, and does a double take when he sees you both. It’s like a mirror version of the last time he saw you asleep on her lap, hand going through your hair again.

“Oh, hey, Boss,” she says, “just figured I’d pop in, say ‘hi’ and all that.”

Ballister can only laugh, tears of happiness forming in his eyes.

“Hi,” he says, holding his arms open.

“Hey,” she says, hugging him.

The family is complete.

Y/N and Nimona the siblings; and Balister and Ambrosius the parental/older siblings. The label isn’t exactly exact, but sometimes labels aren’t. They fluctuate.

But the love, just as the person, is still there. Still them. Still have all that love and hope inside of them.

Some people like labels, some don’t.

Either way, you all fit together. You all know what you are.

Family. And a family who aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

#nimona x reader #Nimona imagine #platonic reader #platonic reader insert #platonic imagine #Nimona x platonic reader #Nimona x platonic!reader #Nimona x Best Friend Reader #Nimona x Sibling Figure Reader #reader insert #Nimona Reader Insert

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cyborg-franky · 1 year

Text

Happy Birthday!

I hope you enjoy this lil something @softcenteregg thank you for being like, so awesome. I've really loved getting to know you these last few months! Happy Birthday <3

Shanks x GN Reader x Benn SFW Modern AU WC: 940

You hadn’t planned to work on your birthday but it had happened that way, typical. You looked at the screen, feeling your eyes getting tired, glancing at the empty cup of coffee at your side as you sighed. It’s fine, this is fine you told yourself as you leaned back in your seat, stretching out, getting the kinks and aches of sitting still for so long out of your joints.

Your phone decided to remind you of its existence. Vibrating angrily across the table, you watched it having its temper tantrum and debated picking it up, you dreaded finding a message that would add to your growing to-do list but as you watched it rattling on the desk you sighed and picked it up but at seeing the name in the notification you felt yourself smile.

Unlocking the screen and seeing the messages.

Shanks: You’ve been working for hours, let's go grab something to eat!

Benn: How’s work going? Almost finished?

Ah, your boyfriends, two very different people with two very different work ethics. You looked at your work, seeing the progress you’d made so far. Sending a message to each one, letting them know you’d be finished in around an hour.

You slouched in your seat, feeling your body sliding off the chair before mumbling and picking yourself up. You didn’t have much to go, you could do this, and the reminder you’d get to see Benn and Shanks when you were finished just renewed your vigor, pushing you forward through the current mountainous task at hand.

–

You’d been sent a message, telling you to wash up, get changed, and meet them both at your favorite restaurant. Your stomach rumbled as you thought of food, not just any food but your favorite. You had a quick shower before getting into some nice but comfy clothes.

–

Arriving at the restaurant you saw Benn standing outside waiting, smoking what was probably his fifth cigarette that evening. You walked over and felt him slide an arm around your waist, making sure his smoke didn’t go in your face as he pulled you closer. “Happy birthday, sorry you had to work.”

“It happens, where’s Shanks?” You asked and noticed the chaotic redhead wasn’t waiting here for you. “Inside, he’s still looking at the drinks menu, you know him.” You chuckled and nodded, just leaning against Benn until he was finished with his smoke.

You both headed in, chatting about work and what you had to do as Benn was silent, absorbing all the information as he led you to where he had left Shanks. You heard Shanks and then noticed the large table, there was Shanks, waving, surrounded by various bottles of booze which you didn't doubt were just for him. But also you noticed your closest friends sat there and greeted you with a cheer.

“You… really?” You laughed a little, not sure how to process the surprise party but you were glad it was small, you had a feeling Shanks would have invited everyone you’d had one awkward conversation with online if it had been up to him.

You sat between Shanks and Benn, everyone passing you cards, small heartfelt gifts and everyone was chatting. You’d been nervous at first, a little taken aback by the surprise party but the mood was nice, and the vibe was just right. Everyone getting along and happy to see you.

Which made your heart happy.

You looked at the menu, listening to everyone's conversations, enjoying how Shanks was able to do most of the talking while you charged up your social batteries, feeling Benn’s hand on your lower back, gently stroking you and keeping you calm, he was a rock and Shanks was wind.

The evening went on, you picked up after a drink and some food, Luling into comfortable conversation with your friends, laughing and throwing yourself into the mix. You’d not been so sure of the party at first, tired from work but this was nice, this was lovely. A night with the people you cared about the most and eating the best food.

At the end you heard singing and glanced up, seeing a waiter bringing a cake towards the table, you quirked a brow and looked at Benn “I know, I know,” He said as everyone around the table started to join in singing, Shanks loud with an arm around your shoulder, swaying you in time with the song.

“It was this or Shanks was going to jump out of a cake, I think I managed to reel him pretty well,” Benn said, his smirk growing when he saw your face, he could tell you were now thinking of the spectacle of Shanks leaping out a cake.

“Kind of wish he had, that’d be funny.”

“I should mention, he wanted to do it naked.” you heard that comment and almost choked on your drink as everyone settled down around you, waiting for you to blow out your candles.

You did and very much wished for the strength to get past your deadlines this week and that you’d never have to put people through a very naked Shanks bursting out of a cake in a nice restaurant.

You felt Benn and Shanks lean in either side of you, a kiss on each cheek which made a blush bloom across your face, looking sheepish as others clapped. “I love you both, thank you.” You said, your hand finding both of theirs and feeling Shanks rest his head against yours “Love you too,” and Benn giving your hand a squeeze, never the fan of PDA but knowing he loved you just as much.

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ncsdlr · 5 months

Text

Hit List

The Unfulfilled

Marvel

Warnings: Angst, making out, death, implied trauma, emotional pain, grief, crying, killing, failed love(?), unrequited love(?), mutual pining, manipulation

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4501

A/N: This has been in my drafts for literally almost a month. I literally finished it then sent it to my friend for proofreading then thought I might add some more stuff, so now here I am after adding said stuff. The added stuff was not proofread.

-----------------

"Your next assignment." Natasha scanned the nearly blank page with her earthy green eyes, reading its contents with pure curiosity and determination. She was the best of the best in her high ranking, and she would be damned if she let that title slip through her nimble fingers. Natasha walked out of her workplace with a pep in her step with the things she would need in her purse.

Namely, chapstick.

As Natasha drove to your home, the energetic music of Sia playing on her car radio. The redhead opted to listen to the great Sia when on missions, seeing as she offered her strangely calming vibes. Natasha judged the way your Czech Republic home looked. It definitely needed some upgrades. The crack in the walls seemed so unsafe and the peeling paint too? So unfashionable. Natasha grunted at the hideous design of your building. It was so outdated. You surely could have done way better. Natasha wished on every existing dandelion on earth that you would, at least, be her type. She needed to have fun while working.

****

"So what do I have to do e-exactly?" You rubbed at your chest as it began to tighten around your heart. This gorgeous woman could be the death of you. Literally. The two of you walked up the seemingly never-ending stairs of the Fraternity she worked in. You don't even know if you were roped into this job by her eyes or the promise of becoming better, but honestly, you sort of didn't even care.

Sort of.

In a world where what you can become is very limited, this was a bright opportunity for you. You thought of Natasha's proposition as something that can open new doors for you. All you could think of was the prospect of doing something good in this world while having fun in return, that and the part where you were going to be trained too.

"All you have to do, for now, is get trained. Then, once you're deemed ready by yours truly, you will be given an assignment that you must complete." Natasha walked around a table and you followed suit only to realize that the two of you walked in a circle around it twice before a man with whitened hair in a black suit with his arms behind his back revealed himself. "Then after that, you get more assignments, more targets, more responsibilities-"

"Wait, wait, targets? What does that mean?"

"She means you will be one of us. A killer taking down other killers." The man in the black suit says looking completely unbothered by the whole occurrence.

"Wha- a killer who kills kille- hold on." You raised both your hands and basked in the silence they allowed you to have and thought about everything going on at the moment. After a solid few minutes, the only thing you could come up with was, "So a hero?"

The pair before you sighed, one of them pinching the bridge of her nose and the other raising his eyebrows to his hairline while his eyes squeezed tight, both in an attempt to gather their bearings with how...slow you were. This is going to take so long, she's lucky she's pretty, Natasha thought.

"No, Miss Y/L/N, not a hero. More of a vigilante with a twisted morale."

The way Natasha said so nonchalantly made your eye twitch, the glint of your eyes showing both confusion and understanding at the same time. Then, all of a sudden, you find yourself in a knife battle with a butcher who seems to have it out for you in a room full of hanging gutted pigs. He used his knives against you rather carelessly to the point where you were actually bleeding from three knife wounds. One on your side, one on your arm, and one on your back.

You were going to pass out.

****

After two months' worth of on-and-off dedication to this new thing Natasha offered you, your decision is finally whole. You were in. And you celebrated that with Natasha by way of completing a mission and going for dinner afterward. It was all so much fun to hang out with Natasha in such an intimate way while still keeping it professional. She was such a lovely soul to get to know. Anybody would be lucky to know her wholly.

"So how do you feel?" Natasha eyed you through the burger she was taking a bite of as she asked you her query. She was so adorable.

"Honestly, fulfilling, but still kind of mixed. I just don't know what these people did, if they were bad people, if they were involved in the wrong kind of business, or if they had families. I mean, how do we know for sure we're doing the right thing here?"

Natasha chewed and swallowed before she spoke again. "The work we do has a questionable judgment, yes, but how we see it is that by taking out one person, we save possibly a million. The result is what we put our faith in, not the work itself."

"That's beautiful." You smiled at Natasha gently as the night dragged on. When the two of you were walking back to the Fraternity, you could swear that Natasha's hand kept brushing yours, but with how closely the two of you were walking, you dumbly let it slide and deemed it to be a coincidence.

It really couldn't be anything, right? I mean, you just killed a guy- very skillfully, might I add -so, surely this soft moment can't be happening. Plus, Natasha Romanoff is just a very flirty all-work type of gal. She didn't exactly strike you as the type to commit, so you figured it's best to hold off on that... stuff.

What a fucking day.

****

Another month flew by and now you were three missions deep into this Fraternity including your first "celebratory" mission. It was all exhilarating, to say the least. Everyone on the team had their special talents and reasons for working with this Frat, and everyone got along with everyone. They were all good people, especially Natasha. She had such a golden heart with a thick, strong glass barrier.

Truly, you've grown fond of this team over the past three months, and to call them your extended family would be a rightful title for them. They were all so caring. They treated each other like brothers and sisters, born with the same blood, and protected each other even if it meant losing their own lives or getting hurt themselves.

You saw that for yourself once, and to say that you were honored would be the greatest understatement of the fucking year. It happened on a mission where all of you were required to fight the same battle as one. You were fighting one of the enemy goons and you were too busy to see that one guy was aiming at you with a rifle. One of your peers took the shot for you, using his body as a shield for you while simultaneously shooting at your perpetrator.

Your bond with them solidified after that day. Gone were the many trust issues you had with them because now, you had a reason to trust them with your life. You couldn't think about that right now though. Right now, you are a little too preoccupied with planning how to carry out the latest mission assigned to you.

It was a pretty simple mission, one that required you to assassinate one of the guys in a well-renowned company. They were supposed to have a meeting in two days, according to the details you were given, so that's when you were going to make your move. The days passed by rather quickly with you simply moping around the Fraternity and training when you felt like it. You called it "strength preservation".

****

You stood on a moving train with Natasha sitting comfortably parallel to you with your gun in hand. You were checking if your gun needed anything more while you waited for the right moment to shoot your victim. You playfully aimed your gun at Natasha who merely smirked back at you. You thought it was sadistic, how being held at gunpoint made her reflect a toothy grin. It filled you with butterflies.

As your target's building came closer, you made no move to aim away from Natasha. You wore a sinister smile, one that was reflected beautifully by Natasha, and when the time was right, you pulled the trigger. With the way you were trained in the Fraternity, you learned how to bend the bullets you shot. Therefore, when you brought your arm back, and swung it back at Natasha, your bullet went straight through the window of the meeting room where your target was located, hitting him right in his stupid heart. Perfectly untraceable.

As opposed to Natasha's previous position on the roof of the moving train you stood upon, leaning back on her hands while one of her legs rested and the other was propped up, now, she was applauding you for your successful mission. You looked at her with a bright shy smile weaving your fingers through your hair while you calmly walked closer to her and sat down.

"Learned from the best." You stated proudly.

"Yeah, you did."

"Way to ruin the moment."

A blissful silence befell the two of you, leaning back to watch the sunset over the horizon of Russia. It was beautiful. You had just killed someone and now you were watching the day slowly end. It was somewhat peaceful as opposed to the chaos happening in the meeting room where their dead boss lay limp in his chair. You would have laughed if you saw the people running around in a panic. Meanie.

It was a moment where two assassins, you and Natasha, got to pause the world on a moving train. It was unsafe, but the thrill of it gave both of your hearts the flutter it needed. As you looked at the setting sun, Natasha's eyes, unbeknownst to you, turned to your side profile. She could get used to staring at you, your sculpted nose, your voluptuous lips, and the subtle shine in your pretty eyes. Gosh, you looked so beautiful, ready to be ravished by way of flowers and chocolates and surprise dates.

But Natasha knew she couldn't. With her initial agreement with the Fraternity leader and how you came about, she just couldn't. Not even if she tried.

****

Another day, another mission for you where Natasha was monitoring. She wasn't really required to monitor you, you both knew that, but it just felt right to be near each other so neither of you ever mentioned it. As opposed to the other places you went to with Natasha after missions, this time the two of you laid upon a random blanket the two of you found in the park. When you found it, Natasha insisted on shaking it off before taking a seat on it, saying that there could be bugs on it for all you knew.

You complied, of course.

The two of you watched the stars, occasionally pointing out constellations you would see in the sky or stars that formed a funny shape- the latter was your doing most of the time. It was calming to both of you how the stars just twinkled above your bodies while you gazed into each other eyes- when did that happen?

At the moment, the moon hosting and the stars watching, the two of you held a silent conversation, one that was had through your eyes that have seen many troubles before each other. As you looked at each other, the world simply faded, quietly and stealthily, leaving only the two of you on a random blanket in the park.

Suddenly, -you don't know how- Natasha was on you, straddling your lap while cradling your face in her hands so gently. It almost seemed like she feared your head would shatter if she handled you incorrectly. It felt so nice, so right, so meant to be. It was like you only knew each other and nothing else like the two of you existed in a void where you were each other's light in the dark. The warmth between your bodies grounded you enough to keep you both reminded of the place you were in, not that the two of you paid any attention to that.

Then it happened. In the blink of an eye, the two of you lip-locked. Your soft lips on Natasha's plump ones. It felt so good to finally have each other like this. This was the moment the two had been waiting for; a moment where hands wandered over each other's bodies, feeling each other up as if it would be the last time.

That night, no intercourse was had, but rest assured, love was made. Love was made in the form of soft gliding hands, gyrating hips, connected lips, shared warmth, and hands held tight. Love was made in ways of fingers running through hair, whispered praises, eye contact, and hugs. More kisses were shared throughout the night. Stolen or not, they were most definitely shared.

No word was muttered after that soft moment. Neither of you expected anything to happen too, but you did hope. The two of you hoped that one day, you could work something out, talk about the things that the two of you needed to talk about and get together. Because that's what the two of you wanted; to be together. It didn't matter how long it took, all you knew, at that moment, was that you wanted each other.

And that would be enough until it wasn't.

****

How did we get here?

Ah, yes.

It all started when you were on another mission and your target had a loose mouth. He flapped his tongue and sputtered out nonsense about the Fraternity you worked for and your MIA father. Frankly, you didn't care about your dad's whereabouts, you'd gotten over that years ago in therapy, but the fact that your target knew of your father's gambling and his drinking, and his abusive nature when he was around, struck a nerve. Other than talking about your sometimes dad, your target also spoke of your beloved Fraternity friends. You, honestly, would have been offended for them if not for the way that things panned out.

"You think they're all good? You think they're all clear skies and glitter?" Your target fell on his back as you kicked him in his chest in the dark alleyway. The way he was gasping for air told you you were doing a pretty good job in defeating him.

"No, I don't, but it's the result that we put our faith in and not the work itself." Natasha stood proudly behind you with her arms crossed over her chest, the smirk she wore shining with success in bending your morals to be more aligned with them. "Of course, there's always something bad in the things we do, but by taking those people out, we might be saving millions of other people."

You held your target down by his throat, cutting his breath off to the point of death before he tried to speak up again. You meant to taunt him, but his next stuttered words tickled your malleable heart. "...they lied to you. They were the ones- *cough* who had your father...killed."

Your grip loosened at the last second- or so you thought because the second you let go, your target's eyes made its final close. You slowly blinked, your thought process going a mile per minute. Little bits of information and your own opinions tossed themselves around in your head effectively sending you into overdrive. This was it, Natasha thought, the Fraternity's downfall. You were their best asset and their worst enemy, even she could admit that, and now was the time she finally completed her mission.

Natasha aimed her gun at you, seemingly unbothered. The love she held for you, the love she put aside, the love she wished she could express was raging inside her beating heart. Tears threatened her stoic eyes at the thought of having to be the one to kill you. You were her one true love, you both knew it and now she had to be the one to kill you. It was her mission. You were her mission. She had to complete her mission.

In some twisted way, she did. Natasha completed you wholly. When you were with her, everything felt right. It was like the world was suddenly a paradise where problems did not exist. With her, the world was a place where nobody knew what the word trouble meant. Natasha made you want to express your love for her, by way of holding her hand, kissing her cheek and her forehead, dancing in the rain with her, crying with her, hugging her, and doing everything good with her. You wanted to take her out on a date in the park, painting each other's portrait or the starry sky, in the fair where you would win her the biggest teddy bear, in a museum where you would only look at her because her beauty topped those of the ones hanging on the walls.

But that could never happen, right? It was only in your wildest dreams. It could never happen in real life. This world was not a place where your 'I love you's' were said aloud. This was merely a world where it was observed from afar how you cared for each other. This was only a world where stolen glances and stolen kisses were thrown around, hopeless pining was the only way to go, a world where longing eyes met eyes of sorrow and pain. It could never happen, not with the way the two of you were brought into this world. Maypahs if everything happened differently, if the two of you met under different circumstances, it could have happened.

"Is it true?"

"Yes."

****

Natasha staggered her way through the Fraternity's gates, clutching at her bag of items limply as she focused on her goal. She wore a solemn look on her face, a look that matched her dirtied clothing, dust and splatters of blood decorating her otherwise white tank top. "We trained her well." Muttered the woman in question as she passed her boss.

In the bath, Natasha wallowed in her own sorrows, the loud silence enveloping her whole while she soaked in the cold water. In the end, she couldn't do it, not to you. She loves you too much to lose you to her own hands. If it were any other person, she would probably be fine, but this was you we were talking about. You were the person she would love, and no hands will ever be able to hold her down. You were the kind of person she would risk her work for, her life, and her achievements, and that was when she realized.

Natasha loved you too much to kill you. It was like gravity was working in your favor to make her fall in love with you every time she looked at you. Natasha loved the look in your eyes when you finally learned how to curve your bullets. Natasha loved the way your eyes shined when she first held your hand in that crowd when the two of you went undercover. The two of you were partners in crime, and the two of you secretly wished to be partners in real life. So she spared you because she knew that she would never be able to kill you.

----

Your next goal now that everything was out was to go on a rampage. You'd gotten a list a few missions back where one name was particularly questionable. You asked your boss about it, but all he offered was a "Go finish your mission." So you did, but you chose not to kill the one person on the list. You could not kill Natasha Romanoff, not even if you were fully capable of defeating her.

You loved her too much to kill her. It was almost like love at first sight, how you fell in love with her. Your heart just felt like it skipped a beat and even you could feel the way your eyes dilated fully. She became your everything so quickly that you experience whiplash, but if you were being honest, you would go through it all again if it meant you get to be with Natasha. In the little time you spent with her after missions and the stolen glances you sent her, you fell in love.

You fell in love with how she carried herself with so much confidence. You fell in love with the sparkle in her eye and the way she looked at you like you were the only two people in the world. You love her in soft looks and cuddles, you loved her in ways that only meant the gentlest of love. You loved Natasha in tight hugs and kisses that made you want to do a cartwheel. You love her so much that you spared her of the fate the Fraternity gave her. You loved her too much to lose her to your own hands.

****

Your plan was set into motion and the Fraternity members' fate was coming to fruition. You got through the building, going higher each time you completed a floor. You shot through men and women alike, these were the people you used to call your friends, family even, but now it was like a switch went off, you didn't know them anymore. You made a war cry through the pain of losing your friends to your own hands, having lost all sense of sensitivity to their pain.

You don't care, you couldn't care. You haven't cared since the moment you found out it was them who had your father killed through you. You hadn't cared even when you were coming up with this plan to kill all of them and escape with the love of your life so that you could live what could be and what should be between you and her. Your plan was well-thought-out, you were certain nothing could get in the way of its impending success. But with how things are going down right now, you, surrounded by all of the highest ranking assassins you worked with and called your family, on the top floor of the Fraternity.

Natasha was among the circle, one of the friends pointing their gun at you. She was using your favorite gun of hers too, an M16. She always looked so hot using the gun. And right now, she looked especially hot with that black tank top paired with army green cargo pants - the two of you bought together after one of your missions - and the brown holster around her small waist, the waist you so desperately wanted to wrap your strong arms around.

"You are all each other's mission. Wanda, and Bruce are spared and recruited by Tony, Natasha, spared and recruited by Clint, Sam, and Bucky, spared by Steve, and Yelena, was spared by Kate. Now, you were spared by Natasha. All of you are supposed to be dead if not for me! If I had not started this Fraternity and made a place where all of you could be protected, you would all be dead!"

The lot of you remained silent as the man you surprisingly saw as a father preached about how he was the all-mighty one for saving all of you and giving you a home. I mean, yes he did do all of that, but was it really necessary to use all of you for reasons such as 'he saved you'? The answer was a hell no.

"Well, now since you're all grown-ups, I'll let you go and let you decide for your own fate." None of them, in the circle, stood down, holding their positions while contemplating how they were going to decide between killing the newest, best, and brightest and sparing you like they did each other. Apparently, none of them had to decide because Natasha beat them all to it. None of them deserve the life they were born with, trauma-filled childhoods, and painful coming-up stories. Everyone in this room deserved something better, something greater.

As Natasha swung her arm back and shot a curved bullet, she smiled at you. The few memories the two of you created together swam her head like a slowed-down timelapse. The man beside her went down first, and then the next one, then next, and the next. While her bullet was curving in a circle, Natasha tossed her gun to you, and you caught albeit fumbling before it settled perfectly in your hands, and you thought all would be well.

As the Fraternity members realized their fate, they stayed put in their spots, concluding that the life they had led was the best life they had ever had. They were thankful for all of their flaws and perfections, they were thankful for all of the decisions they've made leading up to this. Natasha thought of you, only you. Natasha thought about the drive she spent going to your workplace, she thought about the months she spent convincing you and training you to be the best you could be in the Fraternity. Natasha thought about all of the sunsets she watched with you sitting atop moving trains. Natasha thought about what could have been, the life she could have lead with you.

As the last man fell, you held Natasha's gun in your hands and aimed at the oncoming bullet only to watch as the aforementioned bullet lodged itself into the love of your life. You wailed as you saw your mission fail. No longer could you run away with Natasha because now you ran to her limp and bleeding body. You held the love of your life in your arms, offering her your warmth and showing her the love you kept hidden from her for so long. You held her head against your chest, letting her listen to your heartbeat while your thoughts ran wild with the thought of what could have been with her. The love you held for each other died out with her and you sobbed, wailed, and cursed the land you lived upon.

With no emotions left in your heart and a stoic face, you marched down to where your boss was, blinded by the rage and the pain you felt for losing your lover. With no more thought, you shot him, right in his shiny, half-bald head and watched him fall to the ground with a thud. You felt no remorse as you left the building, ready to live your life with incurable pain and guilt.

Your days passed knowing you could have saved her had you been quicker.

In pain, you were born, and in pain, you died, next to your lover's grave two weeks later. "I love you." You muttered as your last dying breath devoted itself to Natasha Romanoff, the love of your disgusting life.

#lgbtq #mcu #natasha romanoff x reader smut #this shit aint real #this is not a joke yall i cried #I CRIED #sad shit #marvel #avengers #angst #i dare you not to cry ill hunt you down #sad but true #depression is real #get therapy #xreader

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lovelynim · 11 months

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Noises

Honkai Star Rail - Himeko

A/N: This fic is based on a little headcanon I came up with a while ago and shared with some friends. After a little time procrastinating, I decided to write it, hehe.

Summary: During the night, Himeko starts to hear some 'noises' coming from the passengers car

Word count: 1389 words

Himeko stared at the screen in front of her, with arms crossed and a serious facade. If the Astral Express were to take this route, they would, at least, need a couple more supplies for the trip. Food, water, repair kits and… Sigh, the list went on with some other items.

“What a headache,” she muttered, rubbing her temper as she tried to give it another thought. If they could add one or two stops between their final destination, maybe they could leave it for now - but, then, wouldn’t it take twice as much time than their original plan?

As the redheaded navigator dived deeper and deeper into her thoughts, she felt a friendly, gentle touch on her shoulder. Opening her eyes and turning her head around, Himeko was met with Welt’s concerned and worried case. With a slight smile, he pressed his fingers into her shoulder, as if to sooth her or give her some sort of massage.

“Do you need some help, Himeko?”

“Mr. Welt, I didn’t expect to see you in the parlor car this late,” she joked, huffing a giggle as she rested one of her hands on top of his.

“As much as I appreciate your offer, I should deny it. These are just some matters up to me to solve as the express’s navigator, nothing you should worry yourself with.”

He nodded, lifting his hand from her shoulder as her words reached him. “I know I can’t convince you when you settle your mind or something, but at least promise me you’ll get some sleep.”

“Hahah, you are treating me like one of the kids, mr. Welt?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that, but I think it works.”

Well…’ Himeko started as she crossed one leg over the other, sighing. “I will figure this out, it’s just a matter of time. If I don’t solve this within the next 30 minutes, I’ll leave it for tomorrow.”

“Very well, I will return to my bedroom, then, but call me if you need anything.”

“Oh, wait for me. I need to pick something in my room as well,” she said, elegantly getting up from her seat and walking down the car with Welt.

“And what would it be?”

“Just… something to drink,” she said sheepishly, already predicting how the male would react.

“Tsk, are you sure it is a good idea to drink coffee at this hour?”

“Oh please, who do you think I am? Just a cup is far from enough to keep me up, hahah ~”

As they strolled down the passengers car, the duo couldn’t help but notice a small chatter coming from Dan Heng’s room. Besides the Express’s archivist’s voice, the newest member’s could also be heard coming from inside the room.

“Dan Heng must be having a tough time sharing a room with Caelus, I never saw his bedroom’s lights on so late,” Welt observed, continuing to walk with Himeko.

“Let the kids enjoy themselves, mr. Welt, it’s best for the crew if everyone tag along. Besides, Dan Heng has quite the knowledge in a couple of topics, I’m sure it will do Caelus some good to learn about those while staying in his room,” she smiled, stopping in front of her room’s door and watching while Welt headed to his.

“Good night, Himeko.”

“Good night, mr. Welt!”

Heading inside, Himeko quickly turned on her coffee machine, dropping the capsule as she muttered a tune one of the kids played in the phonograph earlier while she waited. The navigator inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of fresh coffee, smiling as she could pull her cup from the machine. “Now, let’s go back to work…”

Carrying her cup in one hand, she decided to walk a little slowly as she left her bedroom, after all, she didn’t even want to think about what Pom-Pom would say if she left a coffee stain on the carpet. But it shouldn’t take long for her to reach the-

thud

As the sound of something hitting the floor echoed from one of the bedroom’s, Himeko arched her eyebrow, concerned about the noise. Just what in the words were these kids up to at this hour?

As more weird sounds of impact came, the redheaded could tell their source: Dan Heng’s room. With careful steps, Himeko slowly approaches the room. As she lifted her hand as was about to knock on the door to check on him and Caelus, voices came from the other side of the door.

“C-Caelus! Stop… it… agh-”

“Come ooon ~”

What?

She blinked a few times, not sure if what she heard was right. Dan Heng’s voice sounded so… strangled, while the tone in Caelus’s words was… concerning. What was going on?

“N-nohoho!!”

She stopped again, standing in front of the door with a blank look on her face. All the worry from seconds ago seemed to vanish as she heard Dan Heng… laugh?

“Hehe, there it is! So you are ticklish…”

“E-enohohough!” She heard Dan Heng say, clearly laughing.

The noises from what sounded like a wrestling competition seemed to fit as the last pieces from the picture she was building in her mind. Much to her comfort, nothing harmful was happening.

“Where else are you ticklish? Here? Or… here?”

“C-Caelus! AHahAHAh, n-nohOHOT THEHERE!”

She couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, taking a sip from her cup after she was done giggling at the scene in her imagination - after all, it would be a waste to let such a good coffee go cold.

Since he joined the express, Himeko never heard Dan Heng laugh like that - or being so loud, for that matter. But, a day after the new guy came in and, well, look (or hear) at him.

Shaking her head, with a sly smile on her face, she decided to let the two of them be, resuming her walk as Dan Heng’s laughter slowly faded away, becoming quieter and quieter until nothing else could be heard.

As she headed back to the table where she was working on - and after finishing her coffee - Himeko could, indeed, finish her planning and, just like the rest of the crew (or, at least, most of them), she could head back to her room and enjoy a good and deserved rest.

By the wake up call time, when the members of the crew slowly headed to the parlor car to eat their breakfast, Himeko was already up, enjoying her drink - which, of course, was another cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Himeko,” a low, sleepy voice came from her side. Turning her head, she could see Dan Heng approaching, joining her at the breakfast table. “Good morning, Pom-Pom,” he added, greeting the conductor who was already running around the car.

“Oh, good morning, Dan Heng,” she said, smiling fondly at the boy as she placed her cup down. “Did you sleep well?”

“Ah, yes, I suppose. What about you?”

“Well, I have to admit I could finally rest at ease after finishing the planning, hahah. But it’s good to know you could catch some sleep as well, I was worried about you,” she said, closing her eyes as her lips curled into a smug smile.

“Huh?” Dan Heng tilted his head, blinking a few times in confusion, “worried about me? Because I was sharing the room with Caelus?”

“Oh, not because of that. I’m sure you guys were getting along just fine… I was just thinking if you could sleep with all that noise coming from your room during the night.”

Dan Heng choked as those words reached him, banging his fist against his chest as he coughed, trying to catch his breath. His cheeks were already turning a little pink when he looked back at Himeko, with widened eyes. “N-noise? You… heard that?!”

“I was just passing by, don’t worry,” she chuckled at his reaction, resting her head on her hand, “but it’s good to see that you two were having fun. I never heard you laugh like that,” she added, giggling.

“L-laugh..? Oh, you- ah, I see,” he sighed, relieved, “Caelus just decided to mess with me and started tickling me. I didn’t mean to be lo-”

“Wait… what did you think I was talking about?”

“A-ahm… y-you see, it’s nothing, really,” he muttered, realizing he probably said more than he should.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail tickling #tickle fic #himeko #honkai star rail himeko #caelus #dan heng #ler!caelus #lee!dan heng #ticklish!dan heng

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erisweekofficial · 8 months

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Hey Everyone! Can you believe it? Eris Week starts TOMORROW, September 17th!

A couple of reminders and notes:

🏷️ During Eris week please post your content on tumblr. Tag this blog in the main body of your post (@erisweek2023) and tag your post with #erisweek2023. If you are posting on AO3, make sure to add your work to the Eris Week AO3 Collection and post your link here on tumblr.

📝 Master lists will be posted the following day. If we miss something you've worked on, please ping us and we'll get the master list updated ASAP! (We both have day jobs so it may take us a hot second.)

👑 IF YOU ARE A NEW CREATOR, LET US KNOW! We want to do a special highlight of folks who are new to creating fan works! Is this your first character week? Maybe you only have a couple of small things out? We want to hype you up!

🧡 Remember we are here to celebrate one of our favorite characters, so be nice if someone creates something that isn't 100% in line with how you see Eris. All ships welcome. All interpretations welcome!

🎉 Have fun! and keep an eye out for a VERY special surprise!

🔥 After the event, we'll have some fun wrap-up housekeeping and post the FINAL master list.

Not as relevant but still fun! @secret-third-thing and @lucienforhighking (aka your co-organizers) WILL BE MEETING UP IN PERSON to Celebrate the end of Eris Week at our own little seasonal court inspired retreat. If we see any snarky redheads, we'll let you know.

#erisweek2023 #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #high lord eris #autumn court #autumn court heir #eris

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ghuleh-witch · 2 months

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And We Are Tied As One Eternally

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: (For Future Chapters) NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, mentions of past abuse and domestic violence, references to suicide Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x OFC Characters: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia, OFC Additional Tags: soft!dom Copia, eventual smut, developing relationship, no beta reader Chapter Word Count: 2921 Summary: Ellie Moran just wanted to make a new life for herself. Running to escape the people in her past, she ends up in a small town in the middle of nowhere that happens to be home to a Satanic church. She never expected her life to change again after she started attending the public masses at said church.

Ao3

Chapters: 2/?

Tag list: @sodoswitchimage

Chapter Two

tw: references to past self-harm

The dining hall was filled with an aroma of buffet food. Siblings and clergy members spoke to one another as Copia entered the hall. His eyes scanned the people and ghouls in the room before finding their target. He spotted Ellie with Sister Gemma in a small group of Siblings. He wanted to approach Ellie and talk to her, but the vision of her down on her knees in front of him, looking up at him, well, it did things to him. He couldn’t figure out why seeing her like that affected him so much. Had it been as simple as seeing a beautiful woman on her knees before him? No, it couldn’t be it. There were many beautiful people in the ministry that dropped to their knees before him every week and they hadn’t affected him the way Ellie had. There was something about her specifically and he wanted to find out what it was.

He was happy to see Ellie interacting with his congregation. He remembered just weeks prior how she stood alone and away from everyone. If she made friends with the Siblings she’d want to come back to visit, and if she came to visit more often there would be more chances to talk to her, he reasoned.

“So you have your eye on the new girl too,” Terzo said as he came up next to Copia.

His eyes slid sideways to the other man. “I do not,” Copia responded a little too quickly.

Terzo chuckled. “Oh, fratello , you don’t have to lie to me. I saw how you looked at her during communion. I thought you were going to get a hard-on right then and there.”

Copia rolled his eyes at his brother. “Okay, fine, what if I do have an interest in her? What does it matter to you? Are you planning on bedding her? A new woman to add to your tally?” He felt suddenly possessive of Ellie and stomped the feeling down. He had no right to feel that way. Ellie wasn’t his. He didn’t even know her. And even if he did, that didn’t mean he was entitled to her. She probably wasn’t even interested in him. Terzo was just trying to get under his skin.

“Calm yourself,” Terzo said. “I’m only messing with you. I was thinking about asking her out for dinner, but seeing you all up in arms over her has changed my mind. You’re not usually interested in anyone, so I’ll let you have this one.”

“How gracious of you,” Copia deadpanned.

Terzo clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck, fratello .”

XXX

Gemma introduced Ellie to her friends: Sister Brianna, a pretty redhead with a round face, and Brother Micha a short man with dark hair and eyes in his mid-20s. The other two Siblings welcomed Ellie into their little group with open arms, asking her questions about her life and taking interest in her responses.

“Your tattoos are gorgeous by the way,” Brianna said, taking Ellie’s hand and looking at the bits that poked out from under her sleeve. “Can I see more?”

“S-sure,” Ellie said, rolling up her sleeve to show off more of the floral and vine designs that covered her arm. She hoped no one would notice the raised scar that ran up her wrist that the tattoos hid. She wasn’t up for answering questions and bringing up that part of her life. If any of them had noticed, they didn’t mention it, which Ellie was grateful for.

“I wish I had more tattoos,” Brianna sighed dropping Ellie’s arm after admiring the colorful ink. “I only have the one. Haven’t had time to get more.”

As the conversation turned to other things, Ellie pulled the sleeve of her sweater back down and noticed Copia across the room. He was watching her as he spoke to Terzo. When Terzo patted his shoulder and walked away, Ellie excused herself from the group and walked over to Copia.

“Papa,” she greeted. “The service today was really good. I enjoyed it.”

His lips turned up into a small smile and the sight made her heart beat just a little faster. “Thank you, cara , I’m glad you enjoyed it. It was one of my better ones. I’m glad to see you’re back and that you took communion. Are you thinking about joining our little family here?”

“I don’t know yet,” Ellie said. “I don’t know a whole lot about your religion. I understand and agree with the tenants, but I have a…complicated relationship with religion.”

“Former Catholic?”

“Evangelical Baptist,” Ellie corrected.

Copia made a face. “Even worse than Catholics, si?”

Ellie nodded. “At least the Catholics wouldn’t tell me I’m going to Hell every time I stepped into church,” she laughed.

“I can never keep track of what the different denominations believe. Catholics believe one way, Baptists and Lutherns another it’s all confusing,” he said, waving his hand as he spoke. “At least here we are consistent in our beliefs.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Ellie smiled. “I think I need to learn more before I can decide on joining.”

“Of course!” Copia responded with a nod. “Having all the information in front of you before you make a decision is the responsible thing to do. I’m sure Sister Gemma would be happy to help you, and if she can’t, I would be glad to help.”

“Gemma–er–Sister Gemma already offered to be my sponsor,” Ellie said, glancing over at the little group of Siblings that were still chatting to one another. She looked back at Copia, feeling his mismatched eyes boring into her. “But thank you, I really appreciate the offer. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“Si, si. Well, eh, I’ll let you get back to your new friends. I hope we get to see more of you here.”

Ellie could have sworn she saw a glint of eagerness in his eye as he said that. It made her smile and nod. “I’m sure I’ll be around more,” she said before giving him a small wave and walking back to the group of Siblings.

“Making friends with Papa?” Micha asked.

“Yea,” Ellie answered. “He came and talked to me a little the first time I was here. I just wanted to tell him that I really enjoyed the sermon today.”

“Papa Copia is alright,” Micha said. “He’s gained a lot of confidence since ascending to Papa. He was awkward as hell as a Cardinal. Should have seen him. Always had a rat with him. Rode a tricycle around the Ministry. It was weird.”

“Aw, I think that’s kind of sweet. I love rats,” Ellie smiled, glancing over her shoulder. Copia was now speaking with one of the masked figures Ellie learned were called Ghouls. After watching the Ghouls interact with other Siblings, there was something weird about them that Ellie couldn’t put her finger on. When she turned back to the three Siblings they were all looking at her with smirks on their faces. “What?”

“You like him,” Brianna said in a sing-songy voice.

“No,” Ellie said a bit too quickly. She felt her cheeks warm. “I mean, sure, as a person. He seems nice.”

“Oh yea? Then why are you blushing?” Gemma asked a grin of triumph plastered on her face.

Ellie let out a sigh. It would be useless to lie. She was always a terrible liar. “Okay, maybe I find him attractive,” she said as Gemma, Brianna, and Micha all looked at each other and nodded.

“What?” Ellie asked, unsure she wanted to know what they all just agreed on.

“We’re going to get you two together,” Micha said. “Papa needs someone. I heard he hasn’t slept with anyone since he became Papa.”

“Woah woah woah,” Ellie said putting her hands up. “I don’t even know the man and you’re already trying to get me in his bed? I appreciate the thought, but I’m just…I’m okay with the way things are right now. He’s nice and I’d like to be friends, but anything else…” The thought of nothing more between her and Copia made her a little sad and she couldn’t figure out why. But her life was too unstable—barely just began to start it over. Ellie didn’t know him well, but she knew Copia deserved someone better than her. So friends it would be.

“So,” Ellie said turning to Gemma to change the subject. “When can I begin studying for my membership?”

XXX

Ellie left the ministry with a handful of pamphlets given to her by Gemma. They covered the history of the ministry, rules, beliefs, clergy hierarchy, and much much more. Her first task was to read through all the material and write down any questions she had. She was meeting Gemma for her first study session in a few days.

As she looked through the pamphlets, she saw Copia’s papal portrait in one of them. It listed him as the current head of the ministry and frontman for Ghost. Ellie couldn’t help but stare at it. He looked regal in his papal skull paints and glimmering blue robes and miter. Gemma, Brianna, and Micha didn’t push her any further on their plans of getting her together with Copia, and Ellie was thankful because if she thought about Copia anymore, a permanent blush would be seared into her flesh.

As she finished reading through the third pamphlet, her phone chimed with a text message. Ellie froze for a second. No one had her new number. She ditched her old phone back in her hometown before her journey across the country.

“It’s not him,” Ellie told herself as she picked up the phone and opened the text from the unknown number.

Hey! It’s Gemma! I forgot to tell you that when you come here you’ll have to be buzzed in through the front gate. Just tell them you’re here to see me.

Ellie let out a huge sigh of relief. She forgot she gave Gemma her number. Ellie sent a response to Gemma before saving her number in her contacts. Ellie set her phone aside and willed her heart to stop bounding against her ribcage.

“It wasn’t him. You’re fine,” she told herself.

But the sick and twisting feeling that was currently churning in her gut didn’t go away.

She was hypervigilant over the next few days. Every little unexpected noise made her tense. When her boss dropped a large encyclopedia in the store that morning she nearly gave herself a heart attack. Ellie knew she should probably see a therapist and talk about her past and how it was affecting her, but she just didn’t feel ready to dive into all that just yet. She convinced herself that she was just stressed by all the recent changes in her life. Stress. That’s all it was.

That still didn’t stop her from looking in her rearview mirror to make sure no one followed her on her drive up to the Ministry.

She stopped outside the wrought iron gates that were normally open for public mass days. Ellie rolled down her window and pressed the call button on the box just outside the gate.

“How may I help you?” A voice crackled over the speaker.

“Hi, yes, my name’s Ellie Moran. I’m here to see Sister Gemma,” Ellie said.

“Come on through,” the voice responded as the gates began to open.

Ellie drove the now familiar path up the gravel drive and to the small visitor’s parking lot. She sent Gemma a message informing her she arrived before walking to the front doors. Before she could even put her hand on the handle the door was opened and an extremely tall, masked ghoul was standing there. Ellie had to crane her neck to look up at him.

“Sister Gemma will be right down,” the ghoul said ushering Ellie into the atrium of the church.

“Thanks,” Ellie said. She stood in the atrium, looking up at the stained glass before looking at the ghoul standing by the door. “I’m Ellie,” she introduced holding her hand out to shake.

“I know,” the ghoul said, looking down at her outstretched hand. “I am called Mountain.”

When it became obvious Mountain wasn’t going to shake her hand, Ellie let it drop and waited awkwardly for Gemma to arrive.

“I’m here!”

Ellie turned around to see Gemma coming down a set of marble stairs. She was in the same short, black habit that Ellie saw her in at mass but instead of fishnet tights and pumps, she wore black thigh-high socks and knee-high lace-up boots.

“I’m so glad you’re doing this,” Gemma smiled before waving at Mountain. Gemma guided Ellie up the stairs to the second floor and down the corridor. “I’m going to take you to the library first,” she said. “We’ll get an account set up for you so you can borrow books. Then I’ll give you a tour of the place if you want. After that, I’ll answer your questions and we’ll go over what we’re going to be working on.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ellie said as she kept pace with Gemma.

The Ministry library reminded Ellie of the photos she had seen of the Bodleian Library in Oxford, England. The dark wooden shelves stretched toward the high arches of the ceiling and were filled with ancient-looking tomes and modern-day novels. The smell of old paper filled her nose as Ellie followed Gemma to the front desk. There was a long row of tables and chairs that ran down the middle of the library and ended at the large stained glass window. There were several siblings at the tables, either sitting alone or in pairs. All of them had their heads in their books and were taking notes on paper, tablets, or laptops.

Ellie was handed a clipboard by an older, rather severe-looking Sister and was told to fill it out. It was a basic form asking for her name, phone number, address, and other relevant information, and when Ellie handed it back to the Sister behind the desk, she was handed a temporary card.

“Your official card will arrive in the mail next week,” the Sister said before returning to her work.

“Cool. I’ve never had a library card before,” Ellie said staring down at the simple cardstock that bore her name and an eight-digit number.

“Never?” Gemma asked looking surprised.

“Never,” Ellie said. “The last time I stepped foot in a library I was nine.”

Gemma’s eyes practically popped out of their sockets. “You’re kidding me.”

Ellie felt her face warm. “I…I was homeschooled and my mother…well she didn’t think public libraries were Christian.”

“Oh,” Gemma responded. “One of those 'information is danger' people. I understand. We have a few Siblings here who have similar stories.”

Ellie relaxed at that. “I thought I was the only one.”

“Not at all,” Gemma said. “I don’t mean to pry or overstep or anything, but we have support groups here if you ever need to get anything off your chest about the way you were raised.”

“Thanks,” Ellie said, feeling a lump grow in her throat at the suggestion. “Maybe I’ll check it out.”

Gemma nodded and smiled. “Ready to continue?”

“Please.”

From the library, Gemma showed her the administrative wing, the dormitories, the archives, and the recreational rooms that were filled with everything from video games and board games to movies and comic books. Gemma showed her a few of the classrooms and the greenhouse before stopping outside a small two-story house just outside the main abbey.

“This is the Papal house,” Gemma said. “All five of the Papas live here.” “Nihil, Primo, Secondo, Terzo, and Copia,” Ellie listed off.

Gemma grinned. “Good, you were listening. You know Papas Terzo and Copia of course. Papa Nihil doesn’t go out much anymore. Just for mass and a couple of Ministry events. Papa Primo is always in the greenhouse, and Papa Secondo…well we’re really not sure how he spends his time. He’s always coming and going. I’m sure you’ll get to meet them all at some point.”

Just as Gemma turned to lead Ellie back into the abbey, the door to the house opened and Copia stepped out. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Ellie. Ellie couldn’t help but stare. He looked completely different out of his papal vestments. He was dressed in red sweatpants, a black shirt with baring VVLGARI in white across the chest, and a matching red zip-up jacket over top. His face was devoid of the black and white skill paint Ellie saw him in, and instead, he just had black around his eyes and on his upper lip.

“Oh, eh, hello,” he said. “Am I interrupting something? Did you need to see someone?”

“No, Papa, I was just giving Ellie the tour,” Gemma said. “Sorry if we disturbed you.”

“No apologies necessary, cara ,” Copia said. “I was just going to see Sister Imperator in her office. His eyes were then once again on Ellie. “So what do you think of our little home?”

“It’s nice,” Ellie said. “Everything’s so beautiful.”

“This used to be some Catholic monastery or something before it was sold off and we bought it,” Copia explained. There was a pause before he shifted almost anxiously. “If you have time before you leave today, would you come by my office?”

“Oh? Um, sure,” Ellie said. “I don’t have anything going on this afternoon.”

“ Perfetto ,” Copia said, a smile forming on his lips. “I’ll see you then.”

#awataoe #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fanfic #my fanfic #copia #papa emeritus iv #copia x ofc #copia x oc #papa emeritus iv x ofc #papa emeritus x oc #papa emeritus iv fanfic

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