#“but i still want him to dance with my best friend
Text
something old, something new
pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader
summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?
word count: 7.2k
warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n
author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!
It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one.
As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding.
It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course.
You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good.
Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business.
You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying.
If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds.
Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit.
“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.
“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.
“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch.
“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.
Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him.
“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”
“This time, they mean it.”
You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined.
“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”
“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.
“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”
“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”
“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”
“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Marry me.”
You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.
“What?”
“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”
You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”
He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.
“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”
You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”
He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”
———-
Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.
The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.
You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of.
You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted.
Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union.
Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.
After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning.
Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”
The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you.
Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.
The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings.
You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless.
The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.
The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.
You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling.
Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance.
By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision?
You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.
“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”
“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”
“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”
“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face.
“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back.
“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name.
“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.
“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”
“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”
You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation.
“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed.
“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased.
“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.
“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”
“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”
“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.
“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.
You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”
“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”
“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down.
“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him.
“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird.
“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.
“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”
“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit.
The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”
“Hopefully,” he remarked in response.
“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”
“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”
“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”
You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear.
“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”
You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words.
“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment.
“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.
“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?
None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of.
You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely.
“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first.
Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet.
Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.
——
That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached.
If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch.
“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief.
“Well… yeah, basically.”
“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.
“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”
“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.
You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”
“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”
“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified.
“Legal marriage and sex?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on.
“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”
“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in.
“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”
“That sounds pretty committed to me.”
“Not really,” you dismissed.
“Then why are you even together?”
“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”
“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”
“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”
Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off.
———
The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there.
Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives.
You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away.
While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.
With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point.
At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.
You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in.
“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug.
“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”
“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”
“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.
“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.
“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.
“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.”
The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.
“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.
“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way.
The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.
“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.
“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.
“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense.
“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.
“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”
“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.
“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.”
As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage.
“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.
“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.
“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”
“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel.
“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”
You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage.
Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”
“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair.
Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.
——
Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.
You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events.
It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather.
It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship.
Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand.
“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink.
“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.
He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events.
You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.
“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago.
“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand.
“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name.
“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.
“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.
“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”
“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”
“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”
It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you.
“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”
Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend?
“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John.
“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”
He winked at you and you bit back a gag.
“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”
Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about.
Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”
“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder.
“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”
Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear.
“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now.
“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own.
———
“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference.
“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis.
It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.
After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump.
“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.
“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon.
You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically. “I hope you’re not being serious.”
“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.
“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”
You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.
Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you.
“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”
Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.”
“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.
“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.
“That’s more like it.”
You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no.
Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together.
#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig fic#patrick zweig imagine#art donaldson x reader#challengers#challengers fanfic#challengers fic#josh o'connor x reader
538 notes
·
View notes
Note
fallin' all in you by shawn mendes and back to life by zayn
best friends to lovers, always there in the bad moments, always there in the best moments. those times of seeing the other with someone else til they finally confess to each other they are in love
Always There
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Swearing and Mentions of Sex
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 3.2K
A/N: Sorry this isn't more related to the songs but the prompt really had me going.
Masterlist
It didn’t take long for Rafe to learn that she was going to be the most important person in his life. No, it really didn’t. It took the thirty seconds that it took for their fathers to leave the room for him to make that realization. The six-year-old stared at the short five-year-old girl in front of him, examining every part of her. He starts with the polished black Mary Janes that adorned her feet. They revealed the folded at the top perfectly white socks she is also wearing. The bottom of her wrinkle-free plaid pink dress kissed the bottom of her knees and not a single stain can be found on her white cardigan. Her nails were painted the same shade as her dress with no chip in sight. Small pearls circled her neck and her ears were studded with pearls as well. To complete the pristine look of the young girl, her hair was smoothed back into a high bun. Rafe was quick to assume he wasn’t going to have any fun playing with his father’s business partner’s daughter, but he was proven wrong by the first words she said to him. “Do you want to go play in the dirt?” Her question took him by surprise because her clothes certainly didn’t give the impression of a little girl who would want to play outside. Nevertheless, he nodded with a massive grin and dragged her to his backyard.
When it was time to leave, the two newly made friends went running to their fathers; just not exactly in the same condition that they were left in. Both their clothes were now stained with mud and wrinkles were a plenty. The tight bun Y/N once wore at the crown was sagging at her nape and several knotted strands framed her face. Rafe’s gelled-back hair was mixed with mud, standing on its ends. To match their parallel appearance, her chipped nail polished hand gripped his slightly bigger ones. He had insisted that they held hands while they ran towards the back door.
Ward’s eyes widened when he saw the state that the children were in and embarrassment flashed across his face. He was sure his son was the reason for the state they were in. He turned to the other adult prepared to apologize, “Nolan, I’m so sor-.” Mr. Y/L/N let out a good-hearted laugh with a shake of his head. “I told your mother that dress wasn’t going to last long. She knows you hate staying still or clean,” he noted, hunching over while taking off his glasses to wipe fake tears from his eyes. His daughter began to giggle with him and jumped into his arms, neither of them caring if his shirt got stained. Ward and Rafe looked at each other with uncertainty and continued to watch the other pair. Nolan stood straight with his daughter in his hold, “Did you have fun, Ladybug?” Y/N grinned at him. “YES, DADDY! Me and Rafe looked for worms and I chased him with one. I was faster. He is my best friend. Can we come back to play again?” The small boy’s heart flipped in his stomach at her words. He had hoped she had just as much fun as he did and he wanted nothing more than to be able to play again. He waited for her father to reply in anticipation.
Nolan smiled warmly at his daughter, “Of course, Ladybug. Maybe he can come over to our house sometime. I’m sure he’d love to see the treehouse you and your brothers built.” He turned toward Ward for the next part. “That is, of course, if it is okay with Mr. Cameron.” “I think that’s a great idea,” Ward agreed. No one could see it, but Rafe did a little victory dance in his head. He had never been more glad to have been woken up early on a weekend because he was pretty sure he had met his future wife.
———
That day he certainly met his best friend; where Y/N went, Rafe followed and vice versa. However, if the pair weren’t together, it was hard for either one of them to find the other. The bars of the ladder creaked as he climbed up them. As he got higher, he could hear the soft sniffles she was letting out. He got to the top and her hunched position confirmed she had been crying. His heart squeezed at her tears, causing him to hurry across the sun-shaped rug they had brought up there to her side. Once he was close enough, she instinctively turned into his hold. The twelve-year-old boy nuzzled her face into his neck. He ran his hand through the hair on the back of her head, waiting for her to calm down enough to speak. “He’s gone. Bernard is gone,” she wailed into his skin. He knew that. Her eldest brother had called when he couldn’t get her down from the treehouse. James explained to Rafe that Y/N’s pet snake, Bernard, had died and she had been up there all day, refusing to come down for anything.
His cheek moves against her skull. He moved some of her hair behind her ear and kissed the skin beside her eye. “I know. I’m so sorry, Cookie. He meant a lot to you,” he mumbled with his lips against her skin. He could feel her nod under him, “He was supposed to have more time. They live for at least twenty years in captivity.” A cool breeze came over them. Even though it was the middle of the summer in the Outer Banks, the setting sun caused the temperature to drop. Her bare arms were littered with small bumps and his lips tightened. His hands began to rub up and down her arms in an attempt to bring her warmth.
“Sometimes these things happen. Sometimes the people… or animals we love get sick and they have to go. That doesn’t mean that we stop loving them or they stop loving us, it just means we have to have faith that we will see them again,” he eloquently shared. “How about we go inside? We can get something to eat and talk about him.”
She froze, raising her head to look at him. “I can’t. I can’t go back in there because it reminds me of him… Is this how you felt after your mom died? I mean, it must have been ten times worse because she was your mom.” His breath hitched at the mention of his deceased mother. He hated talking about his mother, yet whenever she asked, he answered. “Yeah. It was and sometimes still is hard to be at home. Right after I lost her, there were moments when I forgot she was gone,” he revealed. “I would be doing my homework in the dining room and occasionally expect her to come in to ask if I needed help. Or if I smell organes, then I wait for her to offer me some…” He trailed off, getting lost in the memory of his mother. She sensed the pain the recounting had brought him and contorted them so that he was the one with his ear to her chest. “We can share an orange now if you want. To honour her,” she suggested. He raised to check if she was sure. “We don’t have to. We would have to go inside to get one and I understand if that is too hard for you.”
She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away. Her legs wobbled as she tried to stand. He held his hand out to help her. Her hand fell into his. “It’s okay, I think I can do it with you by my side.”
———
Rafe had been falling for Y/N since they met, except he had only realized that three years after Bernard had died. It was quite possibly the worst time for him to be going through it because he was going through puberty. His face was pimply and his voice cracked at horrible times. Although he still got girls, his unstable state caused him to lack the courage to go after the person he desired the most. It didn’t help that she only saw him as her best friend.
“Ahhhhh! I got in,” she squealed as she wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him into a hug. He chuckled and moved his hands to the back of her thighs, giving them a little tap. She got the message and jumped to be in his hold. On-lookers would assume they were dating. He leaned back so he could see her eyes, “I’m so proud of you, Cookie. I knew you could do it. No one deserves it more than you.” They had been in that position for a few seconds and his biceps began to ache. He took it as a sign to start hitting the gym more. He wanted to get more toned anyway. His lack of strength was kept to himself because she loved it when he carried her. He had to agree that the position did give him butterflies, especially when the light would hit her face just right. His eyes found her irises and the air in his lungs deflated. Thankfully, the universe sent Gabriel to break the tension. “Eww, could you guys not do that in a common area,” he complained. Pete followed his brother into the room and nudged the older sibling with his elbow. “Leave them alone. They are in love.”
Y/N groaned at the interruption from her older brothers and dropped to the floor with an eye roll. “We are just friends. Plus, we are allowed to celebrate. I just got into a coding summer program I wanted to get into,” she announced. Rafe felt burnt by her first sentence. Her brothers went to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Both of them gave her congratulatory words. The siblings stepped back from each other after a moment of happiness. “We are bringing back takeout. Text us what you want,” Pete briefed before the two boys left. Silence covered the room and their eyes connected.
His head gestured to the couch and they sat back down on it. The distance between them was quickly filled in by Y/N shuffling in. She rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh, both of them staring at the screen announcing the news. Reality set in for her. “We are going to have to be apart for a month,” she declared. To date, the longest they had been apart was three days. She had to go to Colorado at the last minute for her great-aunt’s funeral. Besides that, their families solely took group trips together because the pair refused to go without each other. Rafe felt her anxiety coming up and offered his hand to her. Her impulse drove her to grip his ring between her fingers. He let her rock the metal band back and forth on his digit. He shrugged, “We’ll be fine. We can text during the day and FaceTime whenever you want. It will be like we are together. I’ll even text you every time I need you to pick out what I eat. As if you are here with me.” She paused to think about what he said for a second. “Would you send me letters? Like people do in the movies.” He removed his hand from her lap and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Of course. With the number of different ways we will talk, I am always there for you,” he promised, thinking this might be the perfect opportunity to tell her how he felt.
———
He never sent the letter and four years later, he regrets his cowardness to this day because now, it is too late. His hand resists the urge to crush the neon-green solo cup. She insisted that he got the colourful cups for his party because she thought they were cute. Of course, he gives into her every whim in hopes it will make her finally see him. It doesn’t work though; if it did, then she would be at the party with him and not with her boyfriend of one year, Jay. Jay, the new addition to the Kook civilization, is polite and always put together. So the complete opposite of Rafe and Mrs. Y/L/N's dream partner for her daughter. Rafe loathes the fact that Jay gets the title of Y/N’s first boyfriend and maybe one day her first sexual partner. At least two things provide him comfort, he was her first kiss and obviously, she must not feel confident in her relationship with Jay or else she would have had sex with him already.
She isn’t a prude (the friends often talked about their masturbation fantasies) or waiting for marriage. Her wish is to give her virginity to someone she is certain loves her, so Jay must not give her that feeling. Rafe has seen the couple say I love you to each other and this confirms his suspicion that something feels authentic to her. Nonetheless, she stays in a relationship with Jay. The best friend once questioned her continued status as the other man’s girlfriend and she said she felt a spark she wasn’t ready to let go of. Rafe thought she was lying. Jay is the first choice her mother approved of and Rafe suspects that is one of the reasons Y/N is holding on to him.
He is snapped out of his thoughts by a splash on his hand. His gaze leaves the sight of Jay whispering into Y/N’s ear as she giggles and trails down to his hand. The cup that was holding his beer is now rumpled in his gasp. He doesn’t mind. After he changes his beer-soaked shirt, he can get something stronger. He swims through the sea of people to get upstairs, chancing a glance at her before he disappears.
It takes him a while to find a shirt to wear. Every time he picks one up, he hears his best friend’s voice in his head. That one is too busy. That colour looks like puke. That one washes out your eyes. He searches for the slightly baggy silk-black button-up that she loves. She prefers a looser-fit shirt because she thinks a shirt that is too tight makes men look like sausages. No matter how many abs they have. He groans, remembering that the shirt is hand-wash only and the maid left it in the laundry room to dry. The shirts in his hands are thrown onto the floor and plans to go shirtless until he retrieves his shirt. As he is about to open his door, the familiar rasp of Jay’s voice can be heard through the door. “I can feel it, Dude. I am so close to sealing the deal with this bitch,” Jay hypes into the phone. “Of course, it is going to be worth it. She’s a virgin. You and I both know that they are always the freakiest because they want to try everything.” Being guilty of saying crude things, Rafe pieces together the meaning of the phone call.
Anger slides under his skin, creating a large splinter. He doesn’t go after the asshole because his concern is Y/N. She deserves to know the truth before she makes her decision.
He waits for Jay’s footsteps to fade and slides out of the door, taking a different route to get to her. It is perpetually easy to find her in the crowd. Her joyful aura draws him in wherever they are. Her hips sway to the beat of the music and her hands are in the air, one holding a pink solo cup. Her hair flows with the carefree movement of her head. Rafe hates that he has to be the one to wipe the smile off her face. The crowd doesn’t object to him pushing his way to her. They can see he is on a mission and everyone is familiar with his famous temper. His warm hand on her lower back causes her to turn in his direction. “Hey, Rafey. Where have you been?” she greets with a bright smile. A clench shoots through his heart, “We need to talk.” Her lips turn into a line at his serious expression. They understand each other’s small facial tics which makes reading each other’s emotions easy. Her head bobs and he guides her to his room.
He closes the door and turns to find her sitting on his bed with a bounce. “What’s wrong?” she inquires. The corner of his lip puckers between his teeth. “You might not believe me, so I want you to know that I am telling you this because I love you.” She stands to shuffle by his side. “What do you want to tell me?” she presses on. He comes to shit beside her and rests his hand on hers, preparing himself for when she needs to play with his ring. “I overheard Jay on the phone and, I’m going to spare you the details, the sole reason he is dating you is because he wants to sleep with you. He sees you as a game and you don’t deserve a person who doesn’t appreciate you.”
She isn’t shocked by the news. The lack of surprise doesn’t mean she isn’t upset. Sure, she isn’t head over heels for Jay, but they still spent a year building a relationship and trust. The fact that he is lying and simply sees her as an object is understanding. In spite of that, Y/N finds herself not as upset as she should probably be. She racks her brain for why the news isn’t more detrimental to her and the answer comes up in the form of two cerulean eyes. The man who played in the mud with her even though she was a girl. The man who would hold her in his arms whenever period cramps were hitting her hard. The man who always knew her order, no matter her restaurant. She never fell in love with Jay because she was already all in with Rafe. He is always there for her and she is now realizing she only wants him there. The small well of tear that is about to crop up gets waved away by her newfound feelings.
“That’s okay,” she whispers, shuffling closer to him. He stares into her eyes with arched eyebrows, “Really?” “Yeah. Because so far, I’ve been falling for men who weren’t how they appear. But I think I found a man who is exactly how he appears.” His confusion doesn’t wave from his face, so she makes her point clear by leaning in. He clocks her movement and his eyes flutter shut as he follows her lead. As their lips meet, love is breathed into each other's lungs and it becomes all-consuming. His rough lips soften with the help of her lip balm. They break apart in a small pant and their forehead smooch together. She grins at him, “If it isn’t clear, I have fallin’ all in you.” “Did you just quote Shawn Mendes?” he chuckles. She feints irritation, “I guess I won’t say what I was about to say then.” He shakes his head and rests his hand on the back of her neck to keep her there. “No. No. No. Keep going.” Her smile returns. “I love you.” The future he has imagined for them starts playing at full speed and he can’t believe he gets to catch up to it. “I love you too.”
Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworl
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader#rafe#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe imagine#obx rafe cameron
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
We shouldn't be doing this ･ ｡ﾟNatasha Ramnoff
content warning — Smut, Shower Sex, Degration Kink, Mommy Kink, Angst
pairing — Fem Reader X Natasha Romanoff
summary — Steve, an avenger, faces tension with his girlfriend Natasha at a shindig. Wanda suggests they make a great couple, but the protagonist refuses. Natasha admires their friendship, asks to fuck him, and makes him feel vulnerable.
word count — 6.0k
Life as an avenger was a constant rollercoaster of danger and responsibility. One day, we could be on the hunt for an Alien threatening to destroy the world, and the next we could be in a high-level meeting discussing how to utilize our powers and resources for the good of humanity.
But even superheroes needed a break, and when we did get some time off, the team liked to spend it together. Tonight was one of those rare occasions.
"What's on the agenda tonight?" I asked Tony, always the mastermind behind our group outings.
"Well, my dear comrades, I have decided to throw a little shindig for us. Drinks, dancing, games...the whole nine yards," he grinned mischievously at all of us.
"The crew? Are you twelve years old?" Bucky teased him.
"Hey now, don't be boosting his ego too much. He's ancient," Sam chimed in with a sly smile.
"Says the man born in the 20s," Tony retorted playfully.
"Well, if Nat's going then count me in," I declared, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
"Actually, Nat won't be joining us tonight. We have a date," Steve announced proudly, looking at his girlfriend with adoration in his eyes.
Natasha looked back at him with confusion written all over her face. Clearly, she had no idea about this so-called date Steve had planned.
Tony shot me a look that said "uh-oh, trouble." I couldn't help but stifle a laugh at his expression, but when everyone turned to look at me, I quickly diverted my attention to my water bottle.
"Nat is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions," I spoke up honestly after disposing of my empty bottle.
I was sick and tired of Steve treating Natasha like he owned her. She was my best friend and under no one's spell. I couldn't understand what she saw in him, especially since they were always bickering, but I admired her for standing up to him. His mind was still stuck in the 20s.
"Stay out of my relationship," Steve snapped at me, his tone harsh and accusatory.
"Don't talk to her like that!" Natasha slammed her hands on the table, her voice filled with frustration.
"What did you just say?" Steve's anger was evident in his eyes.
"You heard me. Don't. Talk. To. Her. Like. That," Natasha spat back at him.
And so it began, another argument between the two of them. Tony, Bucky, and Sam quickly made their escape, and I attempted to do the same, but Natasha called out my name, causing me to pause and turn back towards them.
"Why do you always drag her into our problems? Leave her out of this," Steve shouted at Natasha.
"I'll involve whoever I want to. You don't own me, Steve. I'm sick of this bullshit," Natasha shot back fiercely.
I wanted nothing more than to leave and take a nice hot shower to escape the tension in the room. I speed-walked down the hallway but bumped into Wanda along the way. She smiled sympathetically at me before glancing down the hallway where we could still hear Nat and Steve going at it.
"They're fighting again? What happened now?" Wanda asked in disbelief.
"I know, can you believe it's already the fourth time today? Tony was planning a team get-together and Nat said she would go, but then Steve said she couldn't, and well...you can hear how that turned out," I explained, nodding my head towards the source of the commotion down the hall.
Wanda sighed and shook her head in exasperation before turning back to face me.
"You and Nat would make a great couple, you know," she shrugged nonchalantly.
"Excuse me? Me and Nat? No way. She's Nat, and besides, she's my best friend," I laughed off the suggestion.
"Y/n, your thoughts are too loud to hide from me. Just something to think about," Wanda said with a knowing smile before walking away.
As I continued on my way to the shower, I couldn't help but wonder if Wanda was right. Maybe there was more to my feelings for Natasha than just friendship. But for now, all I wanted was a peaceful evening without any drama or arguments.
As I walked away from her, a thin smile graced my lips in response to her comment about my secrets. With each step, the sound of my feet hitting the ground echoed through the hallway. Suddenly, I heard her voice ring out behind me.
"I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYONE, DON'T WORRY!" she shouted after me.
Ignoring her, I sent her a defiant middle finger and continued on my way to my room. Once inside, I quickly gathered all of my shower essentials and headed into the bathroom. Stripping off my clothes and tossing them carelessly into a corner, I was interrupted by the sudden intrusion of someone barging into my room.
"Ugh, this better be important. I'm about to take a shower," I called out irritably.
To my surprise, it was Natasha standing in front of me with a weight seemingly lifted off her shoulders. Concerned, I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped out into my room to face her.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked gently.
Without hesitation, she scanned me up and down with clear admiration in her eyes. Our friendship had always been like this - playful flirtation and pretending to be each other's girlfriends to ward off unwanted advances from guys.
"Eyes up here, Romanoff," I warned as her gaze lingered on my chest.
"Kiss me," she stated bluntly.
I hesitated for a moment, knowing that she had a boyfriend and not wanting to complicate things between us.
"Nat...as much as I would love for you to...you know...fuck me...you have a boyfriend and I don't want to-"
"Y/n, listen. Steve and I aren't together anymore. So please just let me fuck you until you can't walk," she said earnestly, looking directly into my eyes.
I couldn't help but feel conflicted as she leaned in and pressed her lips against mine. They were just as soft and inviting as I remembered, and I couldn't resist kissing her back. Lost in the moment, we stumbled towards the bathroom, our hands desperately tugging at each other's clothes.
Once inside, Natasha pulled away from me with a mischievous smirk on her face.
"Let's get rid of these," she said playfully, gesturing to my towel.
"I like them where they are," I teased back, unable to take my eyes off of her.
"Baby, I thought you wanted me to fuck you," she pouted, running her fingers along my jawline.
"I do," I whined, feeling more turned on by the second.
"Well then, let's remove this obstacle," she whispered seductively before nibbling on my ear as she tugged on my towel.
"Mmmh, I think you're right, Natty," I replied breathlessly.
In one swift motion, she pulled down my towel so that I was standing fully naked in front of her. Her eyes roamed over my body with hunger and desire, making me feel small and vulnerable under her intense gaze.
"You are going to be so much fun," she murmured, tracing her finger lightly over my chest before pushing me into the shower.
As the warm water cascaded over my body, I couldn't help but let out a slight moan. Natasha stepped in behind me and pressed her body against mine, her lips crashing onto mine once again. As our tongues tangled and hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, I couldn't believe what was happening. And as she pinned me against the wall of the shower and continued to ravish me with kisses and touches, I knew that this would be a night to remember.
The hot steamy shower added so much passion into our little hookup. It made everything way more hotter than normal. The way Natasha's red hair looked as the water trickled down her body was a sight I will never forget.
She placed her hands on my thighs and tapped on them. She picked me up and I wrapped myself around her waist. I began to try and grind myself to try get some sort of friction which worked for a minute as I grinded myself on her abs but when she realised what I was doing she stopped me
"Such a desperate little whore aren't you? Look at you so pathetic trying to get yourself off by using my abs" she degraded me
I could feel myself get wet at her choice of words. I was dumbfounded and my moth couldn't even form words.
"You like that? You like it when I call you a whore baby?" She smiled evilly at me
There definitely was a pool between my legs at this point. She kept staring into my eyes when she spoke to me which made it harder to keep eye contact when she was saying these hypnotising things
"Answer me slut" she snarled
"Ye-yes mommy I do" I replied with a smirk once I pulled myself together
She wore her famous smirk on her face as she stared into my eyes. "Mommy? God I love that" she smirked
She began to attack my body with kisses. Sucking,biting and leaving marks all along my neck,chest shoulders you name it she marked it. She slammed us against the wall and I slowly got off her waist moaning quietly at her marking my body
She placed her knee between my thighs so my pussy was resting on her knee. She pushed it up hard causing me to moan loudly and my moan echoed around the room I quickly covered my mouth but Nat grabbed my wrist and removed my hand from my mouth
"I want to hear those pretty moans, go on scream shout let everyone know that Starks golden child is being fucked by the black widow" she said with lust in her eyes and voice
She gripped both of her hands on my waist and began to harshly push my hips into her knee. The pleasure shot through my body sending shivers down my spine.
"GOD NAT" I moaned loudly
She smirked wildly at me and began to slow down. Which was horrible I needed a release the knot that once was in my stomach had disappeared. My head was resting on Natasha's shoulder.
"Ple-please Nat I NEED you" i panted
"What, you have me what more could you want" she slowed down even more
"Mommy please your killing me" I breathed out
"Such a little slut aren't we? Be a good girl and beg for it" she instructed me
"Please please mommy let me finish all over your knee, I will be a good girl-please mommy" I begged
"Go on get yourself off I want to watch you" she smirked at me
She let go of my hips and I began to grind myself down onto her knee. It felt so good, moans began to fall out of my mouth. I picked up the paste and I could feel my tits bouncing as I moved up and down on her. I had my eyes shut and I threw my head back in pleasure when she flexed her leg.
I opened my eyes and seen Natasha was fingering herself. God it was hot. I shoved 3 of my fingers in her and she moaned
"YES Y/N RIGHT THERE" I picked up the pace
I could feel the knot in my stomach again. I was so close. I could tell Natasha was too by the way she was pulsing on my fingers.
"I'm so close mommy" I moaned
Natasha's moans echoed through the bathroom as I thrust a fourth finger inside of her without warning. Her legs flexed and she threw her head back, lost in pleasure. I quickened my pace, my body on the verge of climaxing.
"PLEASE NAT, I CAN'T HOLD IT!" I cried out, overcome with desire. "Cum on me," she moaned in response.
The sound of our passionate encounter filled the small bathroom, but in that moment, we didn't care who could hear us. My fingers continued to move inside of Natasha as she reached her peak, her release coating my hand.
We collapsed against each other, panting and exhausted. I rested my head against her neck and she nestled hers into mine, peppering light kisses along my skin.
"Holy- fuck," she panted between breaths. "That was...the best shower of my life."
I breathed out a laugh and nodded in agreement. But just as we were starting to relax and catch our breath, Natasha reminded me that we had plans for the evening.
"We should get ready for tonight. That is, if you're still going..." I told her hesitantly.
"Y/n, if you're going, I am going," she said with a smile.
I bit my lip nervously and flashed a shy smile in return. We exited the shower and wrapped towels around our bodies before parting ways to get dressed. As I put on my favorite red dress, revealing just enough cleavage to make it daring yet elegant, Wanda burst into my room with excitement.
"Oh my God!" she squealed. "Natasha and Steve broke up!"
My acting skills came into play as I pretended to be shocked and happy by this news. Wanda bought it completely.
"No way! Really? You're not joking with me?" I exclaimed.
"I wouldn't do that to you!" She laughed. "How did you find out?"
"I overheard Steve telling Bucky," she informed me.
"I thought Natasha and I were the spies here, not you witchy," I teased her.
"That's not the only thing you and Natasha are," she smirked.
"What are we, Wanda?" I turned to face her.
"Each other's future wives," she smirked again.
I rolled my eyes playfully while trying to hide my blush. But Wanda was right, there was definitely something special between Natasha and me.
"You look beautiful, by the way. Is that for Vision?" I joked with a wink.
"Shut up, I can dress up for myself, you know!" Wanda shook her head in mock annoyance.
"Mmhm, yeah, but that dress is new and I know you wouldn't wear it unless you were planning to impress him," I teased as we linked arms and made our way down the hallway.
"Well, I could say the same. We both know a certain spy's favorite color is red," Wanda joked back as we walked.
"But how do you know I'm not trying to impress you? Your favorite color is red too," I responded with a sly smile.
"Well, if that's the case..." she smiled mischievously and we both burst out laughing.
As we entered the main room, still giggling about our love lives, we noticed that it was practically empty except for Tony, Maria, Steve, Vision, and Natasha.
"Well, isn't this quite the party," Wanda quipped at Tony as we approached the small group.
My laughter echoed through the spacious room as I stood with Wanda, trying to decide who to talk to first. There were so many people to choose from in this tower, and we were all gathered here for some unknown reason. "You two give it up," Tony commented, rolling his eyes. "People are coming, unlike you two. Some of us have lives outside of this tower." Maria smirked at me, her gaze lingering on my face. "Well, Y/n certainly does," she said suggestively. "What are you on about, Ms. Hill?" Vision asked curiously. "From the looks of it, Y/n has had some fun recently," Maria grinned, gesturing towards my neck.
Suddenly, everyone's attention turned to me. What was Maria talking about? Wanda slapped my arm playfully. "Miss Y/L/N! What is that on your neck?" she gasped. "It appears to be a hickey, I believe," Vision stated loudly. "WHO HAS A HICKEY?!" Sam's voice boomed as he and the rest of the group descended down the stairs. "Y/N!" Maria exclaimed, causing everyone to focus their attention on me.
I blushed furiously as they began to bombard me with questions. "When did this happen?" Bucky smirked mischievously. "Doesn't matter, it's none of anyone's business," I replied coolly as I sat down on the couch and grabbed a beer from the cooler.
"Okay, so it had to be recently, like in the last 2-3 days," Carol calculated, her eyes scanning my appearance. Tony looked disgusted while Bruce seemed uncomfortable and kept shifting in his seat.
"But Y/n doesn't leave the compound," Wanda announced defensively. "I do too!" I defended myself, feeling slightly hurt by their disbelief.
"I mean, she clearly does," Rhodes pointed at my neck accusingly. "Can we stop talking about this?" I asked, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable.
"Yeah, please, can we?" Tony pleaded, looking like he was about to have a heart attack. "But-" Vision started to say.
"Yes, Vis?" Wanda interrupted him. "If Y/n went out and had intercourse with another person...well, that's impossible," Vision stated matter-of-factly.
"How is it impossible?" I asked, confused by his statement. "You haven't left the compound in 4 days apart from that mission, and unless you slept with someone from Hydra 4 days ago, plus the fact that those hickeys look somewhat fresh...it's impossible that you had intercourse elsewhere...plus-" Vision was suddenly cut off by a loud outburst from Tony.
"STOP! STOP! THAT'S ENOUGH!" Tony yelled, causing everyone to turn their attention towards him. I could see the shock on Rhodey's face as he exclaimed, "Stark, seriously?! She's half your age!"
My eyes went wide as I realized what they were all hinting at. "Ewww, no! No, we didn't," Tony defended himself quickly.
"Stop it now, please," I begged as I placed my hands over my face in embarrassment.
Tony stood up abruptly and walked over to the bar, while Natasha sat smirking and sipping her beer. Bruce also seemed preoccupied with Nat, which wasn't unusual since they were close friends. "Wait, so Y/n brought someone to her room and slept with them?" Carol looked around at the group.
"It isn't anyone here," I said quickly, trying to deflect the attention away from myself.
"I'm going to join Tony at the bar," Bruce announced suddenly, trying to make a quick escape. But Carol and Maria stopped him. "You know something, Brucey. What is it?" Maria interrogated him.
"Leave the poor guy alone," Nat defended him, giving Bruce a reassuring glance.
"Come on, aren't you dying to find out who she slept with?" Carol asked Nat eagerly.
"Of course I am, but we all know Mr. Anger over here gets uncomfortable easily," Nat teased back, causing Maria and Wanda to laugh.
"Oh, Witchy Witchy," Maria smirked at Wanda, who responded with an equally mischievous grin as she slowly walked over to Bruce.
I could see the worry in Bruce's eyes as he sent a quick glance my way. Fuck, he must have overheard something. I gave him a questioning look, hoping he knew something that could explain this situation. He looked away, his expression filled with concern. Damn, he definitely heard something.
With a sudden burst of energy, Sam practically leapt 6 feet in the air, exclaiming, "HE KNOWS WHO IT IS!"
"NO- GUYS I DONT," he quickly defended himself as everyone turned to look at him.
"DO IT NOW WANDA," Bucky smirked at her, urging her to reveal the identity.
I glanced at Nat and Bucky, who were sitting closely beside each other. Dread filled me as I realized that soon everyone would know.
"Guys, who actually cares who she slept with?" Steve groaned, clearly annoyed by the situation.
"Everyone apparently," Nat shot back, glaring at him. "Well Tony doesn't, nor do I," he began to walk away.
"Well you would care," Bruce murmured quietly under his breath.
"What was that Brucey?" Wanda smirked playfully. "Hmmmmm?" He acted dumb, but we all knew what he had said.
"Let him go guys please, this is embarrassing for me. It's my life, not yours," I pleaded with them, trying to diffuse the tension.
But my efforts were in vain as Wanda's smirk grew wider and red wisps of energy emanated from her hands. She was reading Bruce's mind. Suddenly, she gasped and Bruce quickly ran to Tony, apologizing frantically.
"I'M SO SORRY Y/N!" he shouted over his shoulder as he rushed away.
"OH MY GOD," Wanda smirked at me, her eyes glinting mischievously. "WHO IS IT?"
"WITCHY TELL US!" Maria exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.
Wanda paused for a moment before announcing with a sly smile, "It's someone in this room."
The group erupted into a frenzy of questions, desperate to uncover the truth. Maria gasped in shock while Carol couldn't hide her curiosity.
"Okay, who was getting it on with Y/n?" Sam's wide smirk displayed his eagerness to know.
"It could be a girl," Natasha pretended it wasn't her and shrugged nonchalantly.
"That's funny," Steve commented, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.
"So what if it is a girl, Steve? It's my body, not yours," I deflected his judgmental comment.
"Well, it's wrong," he argued back, causing me to roll my eyes in frustration.
"Wanda..." Maria turned to her, hoping she would reveal more information.
I gave Wanda a pleading look, but she shook her head at me. Little witch.
"I'll give you all a hint: their favorite color is red," Wanda began, enjoying the power she held over everyone's thoughts.
"Okay, so that rules out Sam and Nat. Plus, we already established that it isn't Tony or Natasha," Maria listed off potential suspects in the room.
Vision looked relieved at being cleared as a suspect, and I couldn't help but find it cute in that moment. But then reality hit once again.
"Okay, to cut ties. Sam had no clue, so that's him out," Clint suggested logically. "And let's be real, we all know he wouldn't be able to pull Y/n anyway."
Sam was highly offended by this insinuation and tried to argue his case, but I quickly shut him down. Natasha smirked at me for turning him down while the rest of the group joined in on teasing him.
"Well then that leaves two possibilities: Bucky's exes Nat and Steve," Bucky stated matter-of-factly. My heart sank at the thought of either of them being involved.
Steve was busy chatting with Tony and Bruce at the bar, completely unaware of the conversation happening right next to them.
"Well, it has to be one of them. Maybe they used Y/n as a rebound since they just broke up," Carol suggested, causing me to feel even more upset.
"I'm not some lousy one night stand," I interjected, feeling hurt by the words being thrown around.
"Are we correct that it is one of them, Wanda?" Vision asked politely, trying to move the conversation along.
"Yes, you are," she confirmed with a mischievous smirk.
"Well, I could be right then," Carol shrugged her shoulders confidently.
"You really think that?" I asked sadly.
"Well, I mean, it is strange that they broke up and whoever it is ran to you. Maybe they did it as a way to get back at Steve for something," Carol said without thinking.
I sat there in shock as Maria slapped her on the arm for her insensitivity.
"My money is on Steve. He's always had a thing against Y/n and it would make sense if it was an enemies-to-lovers situation," Sam boomed confidently.
"Nah, I think it has to be Nat. If we're going off of what Carol said, she would want to get under Steve's skin by sleeping with his best friend who he dislikes," Thor chimed in with his own theory.
Everyone began agreeing with Thor and even I couldn't help but consider their theories. After all, Nat and Steve were always on-again-off-again. But the thought of either one of them using me as a pawn in their love triangle made my stomach churn.
As I looked at her, my heart ached and tears began to fill my eyes. She was about to say something before she was stopped by Tony's outburst.
"STOP IT! Can't you all see what this is doing to her? Look at her, she is on the verge of tears. You are all making her feel like a piece of shit, like some cheap hooker," Tony defended me passionately.
I looked up and saw Bruce standing next to him, offering his support. Tony protectively placed his hands on my shoulders while Bruce sat beside me, gently placing his hand on my knee in an attempt to comfort me.
"You should all be ashamed of yourselves. We have all gone to Y/n with our secrets at one point or another, and she has never said a word. Is this how you want to repay her? By speaking about her personal life with such lack of empathy?" Bruce's tone was harsh as he scolded the group.
A tear streamed down my face, which I quickly wiped away as everyone's eyes turned to me. I could feel their gaze, but some were shamefully looking at the ground. Without warning, I felt someone wrap their arms around me from behind - it was Natasha.
"Well, I'm telling you now it wasn't me," Wanda spoke up with a smile.
I wrapped my arms around her, taking in her comforting scent. She truly gave the best hugs. As I cried softly into her shoulder, all the hurtful thoughts and accusations that had been swirling in my mind disappeared.
"It's okay, you're okay," she whispered softly to me.
But suddenly, everything came flooding back as I remembered what they had done. "No, please get off of me," I pushed Wanda away and stood up.
Feeling disgusted and betrayed, I walked away from the group. Carol was right; Natasha had used me to get under Steve's skin, and he watched me leave with a smug grin on his face - I could see it from a mile away.
From Natasha's point of view, Y/n had just stormed out of the main hall. As she looked at the rest of the group, they all wore expressions of guilt. Anger rose up in Natasha like never before.
"Baby, did you do this to make me jealous?" Steve approached her.
"Don't fucking call me that," Natasha snapped at him.
"In fact, I don't want any of you to even call me your friend anymore. None of you are my friends after what you did tonight. The only people who I consider friends are Tony and Bruce. The rest of you are just horrible colleagues that I have to put up with," she yelled at them.
"Nat, we're sorry. We didn't think she would..." Wanda started to apologize, but Natasha cut her off.
"Out of all the people, you were the last person I expected to do this to her - to us," Natasha said, disappointment evident in her voice.
"Actually, no, scratch that. I didn't think any of you would be so cruel. But here we are. So since you all are dying to know - YES, I slept with Y/n. And NO, Carol, it wasn't to get back at Steve. It was because I genuinely love her with every piece of my body, and I would die for her. It was the best experience I've ever had because I was with someone who truly cares not only for me but for everyone around her. Y/n would go to hell and back for any one of you. So fuck you all," Natasha stormed out.
She went to her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Frantically changing into her comfortable pajamas, she grabbed Y/n's favorite hoodie which always goes missing when she's away on missions. Determined to fight for her and prove her love, Natasha left her room and went down to find Y/n's room. She had to show her girl that she was willing to go to great lengths for their love.
Your POV
The weight of disappointment and hurt settled heavily on my chest. With a heavy heart, I trudged to my room, eager to shed the facade of happiness that I had worn all day. Taking comfort in soft, loose clothes, I wiped away the thick layer of makeup and let myself succumb to tears.
As I lay in bed, memories of Natasha and the events of the day flooded my mind. How could I have been so naive? Of course she slept with me as a way to get back at Steve. The realization stung like a fresh wound.
But amidst the pain and betrayal, one moment stood out - our encounter in the shower. For a brief moment, she had smiled at me with genuine affection before kissing me again. Was it all just a ploy to manipulate me?
My thoughts spiraled into self-doubt and anger towards my friends, especially Wanda for exposing my vulnerability and feelings for Natasha.
"Why did I trust her?" I cried to myself.
A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts, but I ignored it. Using my powers to lock the door, I refused to let anyone in unless it was Bruce or Tony. But they persisted and eventually picked the lock.
Ready to defend myself with my magic, I sat up on the bed as they entered. To my surprise, it was Natasha who walked in with a gentle expression on her face.
"Did you not hear me? Last time I checked, you're not Tony or Bruce," I sniffled, trying to regain composure.
"I may not have a clean record like them, but I promise you, I'm not here to hurt you," she spoke softly as she approached me.
"Nat, please just go away," I pleaded.
"You'll have to make me if you want that to happen," she challenged with determination in her eyes.
I braced myself, ready to use my powers against her despite my reluctance to do so. But her words and gaze softened me, and I slowly dissipated the energy ball in my hands.
"That's it, Natasha. It's just me," she whispered, sitting at the end of my bed with a familiar hoodie in her hand - my favorite one.
But even the comfort of my cherished item couldn't ease the disgust I felt towards myself. "Giving me this hoodie won't change how I feel about what happened," I told her bitterly.
Her face fell at my harsh words, and for a moment, I regretted lashing out. But I pushed away any guilt and continued, "Why wouldn't I be disgusted? You slept with me to spite Steve, and now everyone sees me as a cheap whore you use when you need a boost."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she asked softly, "Is that how little you think of me?"
I paused, realizing I had let my hurt and anger cloud my judgment. "You're not denying it, so yes, I did think that lowly of you – no, wait, that's not true." My voice cracked with emotion. "I don't want to believe that about you."
"Y/n, listen to me. I didn't sleep with you to get back at Steve. I don't care about his opinion. But I care about yours," she pleaded with sincerity etched on her features.
She gazed into my eyes, her expression filled with sincerity and love. "You're not some cheap hooker or a whore, Y/n. I slept with you because I have real feelings for you. I couldn't resist acting on them the first chance I got," she confessed to me.
I felt a lump form in my throat as her words touched my heart. I was about to respond when she silenced me with a gentle kiss. My body responded instantly, melting into her touch. She pulled away after a few seconds, leaving tears in my eyes.
"Why the tears?" she asked, cupping my face in her hands.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Nat. It wasn't fair of me to judge you like that," I apologized, my voice trembling with emotion.
"Don't worry about that. I'm okay. Let's talk about it and I'll help you through it, if you want me to," she reassured me, rubbing my cheek tenderly.
I couldn't shake off the looks of judgement from everyone at the party. They made me feel dirty and ashamed. I know some of it may have been in my head, but Carol's words really got to me and made sense. I had been suppressing my feelings for Nat for so long, thinking they were wrong and that no one would accept us. But then we shared that moment in the shower and it felt right, until Carol's words brought all my doubts rushing back.
"Fuck it. I'm so in love with you," I blurted out, tears streaming down my face now.
Nat looked at me with so much love in her eyes that it made my heart swell with emotion. I wrapped my arms around her tightly and buried my head in her shoulder while she drew soothing patterns on my back.
"Thank you for listening to me," I mumbled against her.
"Hey, it's what I'm here for," she replied sweetly.
We pulled away and I took the jumper from her lap and put it on. She chuckled at me and I pulled her into my bed, pulling the covers over us. We both decided to keep our relationship private, but not a secret.
"You looked breathtaking tonight," Nat complimented me, her eyes filled with admiration.
"Thank you. The dress was for you," I blushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
"But I have to say, you are effortlessly gorgeous," she said with a smile.
"That's not true," I shook my head.
"Yes, it is. Even right now, lying here next to me. You are perfect in every way," I whispered softly.
"I'm not perfect, Y/n. Trust me," she said honestly.
"ты всегда будешь идеальной в моих глазах Наталья Романова," I whispered against her lips, reminding her of how perfect she will always be in my eyes.
She smiled into the kiss and lightly held onto my waist as I gently ran my fingers through her red hair.
"Не важно что," I mumbled against her lips, reaffirming that nothing else mattered to me.
"When did you learn Russian?" she asked with a curious smile.
"I learned it for you a while ago. I'm now fluent," I bragged a little, feeling proud of myself.
"How come you never spoke it before?" she questioned playfully.
"I was learning it to ask you out, but then you started dating Steve and all I knew how to say at the time was 'Natasha Romanoff, will you go out with me?' and 'I love you'," I laughed a little at the memory.
"Stop, please tell me you're lying," she groaned, burying her head into my chest in embarrassment.
"Unfortunately, no. But I continued to learn it so I could say things to you without the team knowing," I smiled softly at her.
Nat's eyes sparkled with love and adoration as she leaned in for another kiss, grateful for our secret language that only we shared.
My heart skipped a beat as her beautiful smile lit up her face. "Wait, you learned how to say 'I love you'?" she asked, looking up at me with shining eyes. "Yeah, it was one of the first things my teacher taught me," I replied, a fond smile tugging at my lips.
"Say it in Russian for me," she requested, her smile growing wider.
"But you already know how to say it in Russian," I said, confused by her request.
"Amuse me," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.
My heart swelled with adoration as I spoke the words in Russian: "Я люблю вас."
Her smile softened and she echoed the words back to me: "я тоже тебя люблю, Y/N." It felt like an exchange of promises, a declaration of our feelings for each other.
She leaned in and kissed me, and I eagerly returned the gesture. In that moment, as we stood there with our arms wrapped around each other, I knew that I never wanted to be anywhere without her. She had tricked me into saying those three little words, but they were more than just words. They were a reflection of what we both felt deep in our hearts - love.
©Elena do not copy, edit, or translate my works.
#marvel smut#natasha romanoff x reader smut#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff smut#wlw smut#gxg smut#natasha x y/n#natasha x reader#bottom natasha romanoff#sub natasha romanoff#top reader#dom reader#x reader
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
☆༉ — CHRIS STURNIOLO. The unwritten rule.
about. Everyone knows the rule, don't fall in love with your best friend's boyfriend.
word count. 2K
a/n. This is the Chapter 2, I hope it sounds interesting to you. My first language is not English, you will read this under this warning. m.list.
I've liked Chris for a long time. A shameful long time, and no one, not even Anna knows it. She thinks that in eighth grade, when he asked me to the dance and I said yes, he was just being nice, and when I said: "I like it a little, okay?” waiting for her to say she was.
She just said: "Come on, you can't really like me. It’s Chris.”
I could still remember her telling me how lucky I was because it turned out that he couldn't go because his grandmother had passed away and he had to fly to Boston for the funeral. At that point Chris wasn't worth Anna's time or interest, so he wasn't supposed to be worth it to me.
But I thought so. I wanted to go to that dance with him, I wanted to be his girlfriend, but we couldn't go to the dance, and when he came back from the funeral Anna had told everyone that I hadn't wanted to go out with him and was too kind to say no.
He listened, of course, and we didn't speak again until the end of our freshman year of high school, when we ended up standing next to each other waiting to leave the school during a fire drill. I can't be the only person who sees the problem with that, right?
We spoke only one day.
"Hello, what's happening?" And guessing how burned we'd be if there was a real fire, And after that, I admit that I thought, wait, maybe, someday...
And then, something from six weeks ago, I saw him at a party.
I saw it, but Anna had it.
I see Anna waving at him as I get on the road. Chris raises a hand too, and I try not to think about that party. About what I thought at that moment.
About his hand touching mine.The party that Anna and Chris got together at was a thing where summer oh shit school is going to suck, and all the usual suspects were there. Anna ran into a bunch of people from the drama club, and everyone was talking about what work they wanted to do.
I was looking around the house, greeting everyone who passed by and talking about summer, We all agreed it was too short.
I wandered off to the studio, which was his usual study. A haven for dad complete with a comfy, stubby chair that they clearly didn't allow into any other space in the house, a collection of newspapers and magazines, all open in articles about sports, and two huge shelves, They ran from floor to ceiling and were filled with paperback books and what looked like old manuals, but there were also some books on the coffee table, of the kind that are all photographs. One of them was shoes.
And here's the thing about me: I like shoes. Good sneakers. I have twenty seven pairs, and twenty-five of them are ones that I decorated myself or bought already designed. Two pairs are in my room now, stark white and waiting for inspiration to strike.
Which leads me to what happened. There I was, flipping through the shoe book and wondering if I could get a copy and decorate a pair of sneakers with shoe cutouts. I saw heels around the edges, boot dancing across the top, and bright yellow lace with lovely tiny silver slippers on the ends. When I saw a painting on the wall.
I don't know much about art, but the painting was clearly valuable. It was nicely framed and had one of those little reflectors that say "Look! Look at this picture!" about her. I had also been waiting to see one of those little white cards screwed to the wall next to the painting with a little title like "the internal struggle of the human spirit", but there was nothing there, just the paint and the light.
The paint, well, it looked like shit.
I didn't mean it figuratively, I was serious, literal.
I moved a little closer, interested and horrified, and I practically had my nose against the glass frame when someone entered the room. I looked over there, and it was Chris. I smiled at him.
And then I felt my heart drop into my stomach because... Well, the summer had been very, very good with him.
Chris had always been three things: silly, joker and obsessed with music.
During the summer, had grown to the point that I had to look up to meet his eyes, and he had a pretty muscular body. Not the big, bulky kind you always picture when you hear those words, but long and toned ones.
He seemed... I wish I were a poet, but he looked beautiful in a strange, exotic way and when he said "Hi, Ada", I wanted to run up to him and trace the lines of his cheekbones with my fingers and then touch his hair.
And that's fine, the rest of it.
Although, I did not do it. I just said "Hi Chris, can you tell me what this is?, like he was normal old Chris, the one who had vomited just before giving an oral assignment in fifth grade and is not suddenly a wonderful creature whose face, that had all angles and was huge, with amazing blue eyes, It had come together in a way that worked and made me shiver.
"It's a painting” he mentions smiling at me. I had always liked Chris's smile, She was friendly and warm, but now in that face he had become, it was lethal.
“I, I kind of realized that.” I cleared my throat.
I knew from Anna that being beautiful wasn't all that great. Anna had changed in second and third grade. One day we were both first year girls, the next day, She was a supermodel who had an A-list girl as a best friend. Maybe it wasn't so dramatic, but it was quite sudden.
Anna had always been pretty, but she became beautiful quickly, and people had noticed it. She liked it at first, it was even all they noticed. And then she got used to it. That took a while though, and I remembered her screaming "I am more than breasts! You know?" to a boy we met at the shopping just after everything had changed for her, and then how I had cried that night in my room, hating that people looked at her and saw nothing more than her body and face.
“Looks like…" Chris remained silent, narrowing his eyes and looking at the painting.
"Shit?" I said, and then he smiled back at me. My stomach did a somersault with that smile and I swallowed hard. I told myself it was Chris, and that I had known and liked him forever.
The thing was, I had always liked him.
“That's what it looks like, but I don't think it is.” It still sounded the same, I still sounded like Chris, a voice that had been a little serious and deep for him before. Now he was laughing. “I think it's dust.” He pointed to the painting, careful not to touch the glass. “Look, do you see this?”
As soon as I saw Chris' reflection in the glass, I nodded anyway.
“Looks like a smudged handprint” I give it a short look, and then go back to see where it says. “Just like someone leaves a mark, time and nature wear it down. Maybe it's about what's left after you create something. The little you're not supposed to see, but that's what it has to be for a painting to exist.”
Now he actually sounded like the Chris I knew, the one who had greeted in the hallways every day last year, the one who was my friend.
“Or some boy just thought, hey, I have this gob of coffee, why don’t I smear it on a canvas?”
“Disgusting” we both laugh. “Where have you been all summer, anyway?”
"Me?" I'm ashamed to admit that I yelled at him.
“Yeah, I didn’t see you around.”
“That's because I was at home, helping out and all that.” explained. “My father paid me to paint the garage.”
Brilliant, now she sounded like a fourth grader. My dad paid me to paint the garage! I had no life!
“I painted too” speak. “Houses, I mean. Do not paint to paint. I did some of that, but most of it was at home, like I said.”
I relaxed a little more then, despite his appearance he was still Chris.
“So, that's how you got those muscles” I hit him on the arm. He shrugged, blushing a little.
Imagine a boy, He is a little taller than you, with the perfect skin of those that scream "Touch me!" and long disheveled hair. He looks so sweet, and it is. Surely you can understand why I dropped the book I was still holding.
He bent down to take it at the same time as me, and for a moment we were so close that I could have leaned over and kissed him.
“Take” He extended the book to me. We were still so close, and he was looking at me, the smile in his eyes darkening into something deeper, more intense.
“Thank you” although I bet it sounded more like "garatyuhrh", and then I reached for the book and he handed it to me, his hands touching mine for a moment.
And then he said "Ada", and took my hand again. I looked down, my ears stained with the dark green my father wanted for the garage, and his hands were stained too, white and yellow, and the book slid to the floor as he did more than touch my hand. He held it, and slid his fingers into mine.
Our palms were pressed together, And all I could think of was a line I had read somewhere, about palms pressed together like a kiss, and he was still looking at me and then we were standing, still holding hands, and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move, I could only watch and wait, waiting and breathless for him to move closer and closer and….
“Ada, You won't believe what I heard the game would be. It’s… Oh”
It was Anna.
He looked straight at Chris, and smiled the smile she gave when she saw a boy she wanted to see.
"Hello you” she was splendid, tanned, Tall and beautiful, her black hair curled around her heart-shaped face, and I saw Chris smile back.
"Hello Anna” Chris greets her.
“What have you been doing this summer? “Come and tell me everything while I go to the store for some soda.” she smiled to me. “I have to go in a while. One more story about camping and I'll start screaming I swear, I wish I could have gone.”
"I know” Because he had been there when his mother said no, I tried not to notice that my hand was no longer touching Chris. “Don’t just bring Grape, okay?”
“I wouldn't just bring Grape , ok. I would, but I won't." He put his arm in Chris's as he led him out of the room, driving towards her as only she could, and by the time they returned with a few six-packs. Anna smiled at me, a pleasant, bright smile. “Chris likes Grape , too.” He throws me a can of Pepsi. "Your favorite."
“Mine too” Chris made that comment, but he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at Anna, perplexed I would even say stunned, and I knew he wasn't going to turn around.
I looked at her, and she was smiling the smile she made when she saw a boy she wanted., and that's when I knew I was going to get it because that's who she was and what she did.
I saw that I had already achieved it.
I went to the kitchen to drink my Pepsi. I served it in a glass with ice. I waited for the effervescence to dissolve. Delay techniques, and by the time I took it and returned to where Anna was, she and Chris were sitting together, talking.
Anna was nodding attentively, like everything he was saying meant to her. Chris was still looking at her slightly dazed, but then he looked at me and started to say something, and then Anna touched his face and kissed him in front of everyone.
And there it was. He was hers.
He could have talked to me first. He might have even held my hand first. But that didn't matter.
Except for me.
જ⁀➴ taglis. @l34n @jetaimevous @jnkvivi @loveyoumatthewbernard @d1tzy-bl0nde @laxbabe131147 @slut4chriss @dontellaf1lms @surniolozzzprincess @sturnlova @inlovewithchriss @whicked-hazlatwhore @mattsgirlsblog
a.n. If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment below and I will add you. Thanks for reading, remember to like, share with your friends and leave a nice comment ^^
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#chris x reader#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo soft#chris sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo#christopher owen sturniolo#christianity#christopher sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfiction#sturniolo#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo smut#matthew bernard sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fluff#sturniolo x reader#੭ 🤍 ! 𝓈
69 notes
·
View notes
Note
AITA for how I handled the end of a relationship?
i genuinely thought it was simply communication struggles, and some shitty chance circumstances, but some of my friends thought i was a dick about it, so here we go.
I (16 M) started talking to this girl, let's call her K (16 F), last summer. we bonded over shared interests (zelda, mostly) and some shared trauma. without getting into it, we both helped each other through some very hard times. a month or two after we met, she asked me to homecoming (school dance). at the time, i was unsure of my sexuality, but I'm a pretty touchy/flirty person in general, and i guess we had been flirting. anyways, i ended up saying yes, and i genuinely thought i liked her romantically.
anyways. school starts up again, and we decided to call once a week, because we live a decent distance apart, and didn't see each other in person. over the course of these calls, i started to realize that i really wasn't sure if i knew what romantic love was, if i felt it for her, and stuff along those lines, but i always said "i love you" and stuff like that. now, about a month into us dating, it really hit me that i did not actually like her romantically, and that i simply felt very strong friendship feelings for her. i confessed this to her, telling her that i thought i was aromantic.
and that's where i fucked up. i told her that although I didn't romantically like her, i felt more than platonically toward her, something along the lines of queerplatonic, and said i would be okay with it if we kept dating, as long as she knew i didn't romantically like her. she agreed.
I don't know if she fully understood, at the time, but it ended up not mattering. about a month later, I brought K to my school's homecoming dance. she met all of my friends, and we had a lot of fun. but the big thing that happened was that i was struck very aggressively by the fact that i liked another friend of mine (X, 17 M) probably romantically, definitely aesthetically, possibly sexually. This led me to realize that i was, in fact, gay and some form of aromantic. (X still does not know i feel this way about him)
I didn't tell K the night of homecoming. Three days later, i was freaking out really badly ahout being in his relationship i probably should've ended already, and i texted her and told her i couldnt handle a relationship and that i was probably gay but that i still wanted to stay friends with her.
at the time, K seemed super chill with it, but i found out later from a mutual friend that she was actually super upset. K and i have talked about it since, and she doesn't seem upset anymore, and i think i was just doing the best i could with what i knew at the time and trying not to hurt anyone, but another friend of mine thinks i was a dick about everything.
so, Tumblr, AITA?
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eddie was excited. It’s hard not to be when you get to hang out with your best friend who you hadn’t seen for TWO WEEKS. Steve had been clocking a lot of overtime at his new vet tech job. While he loves that Steve is doing something he enjoys now, he misses his beautiful face. Robin was coming much later in the day because unfortunately, she still had to work. Eddie was so excited to get some alone time with Steve. He could hear the stereo playing from the front door. Not really Eddie’s music, but if it makes Steve smile he’ll listen to anything. The scene Eddie was met with when he walked into the house turned his brain into mush.
Steve was dancing through the kitchen in his briefs that left NOTHING to the imagination and using a spatula as a microphone. Eggs were frying on the stove, almost seeming forgotten as Separate Ways played. Eddie officially loves Journey, in fact, he needs to go buy their tapes right now. He’s frozen. Looking away from Steve being happy and free (read: in tight little briefs) is the most monumental task he has ever attempted. He failed. Much like his first two attempts at senior year. He was debating on clearing his throat to let Steve know he was there when he pointed the spatula right at him. Steve froze. Eddie, still frozen, gulped and kept staring. Really, what else was he supposed to do? He has been in love with his best friend for the better part of a year and he walks in on this? His brain is gone. It has leaked out of his ears and been replaced with his dick. His dick that had very much chubbed up without his say so.
“Eddie!” Steve sounds shocked.
It broke Eddie out of his brainmushdickhardfrozen state, and he panicked.
“I’ll go, um, I should leave, yeah. I’ll leave and you can call me, uh, when you’re decent. NOT that you aren’t decent. You’re the most decent man I know and I really respect you so much. So I gotta go.”
“Eddie! Eddie! Wait don’t go.”
“You’re…. IT’S really fine, Steve. I can come back later I’m sorry to interrupt your morning.”
Eddie convinced his cinder block feet to turn so he could walk away. A hand wrapped around Eddie’s wrist before he could take a step.
“Eddie, please stay. I’ll.. I’ll put on some clothes and we can hang. I just didn’t realize you’d be up so early.”
“I would rather you didn’t put on clothes.”
Steve’s eyes widened and Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Oh, really?” Steve asked.
“Oh my god!” Eddie shrieked not hearing Steve’s seductive tone. “I can’t believe I said that out loud! I’m so sorry Steve, I will go. I’ll just go. I don’t need to be here today. I’m just making a fool of myself. I’m…”
Eddie was shut up by a pair of lips pressing to his. Operation brainmushdickhard was back in full swing as he was pressed against a wall.
“Shut up, Eddie.” Steve whispered when he pulled away.
“You, uh, you are really good at making me.”
“I gotta get my eggs, but then we can discuss further what our plans are for the day.”
Eddie has died. This is the only explanation. He’s dead and this is his heaven. The only thing that would make this better is if Ozzy Osbourne burst through the door asking him to join his band. He stared at the door waiting for it to happen. Then he realized looking at the door was making him miss Steve’s ass jiggling. Can’t have that. Steve was turning back towards him. Plate of eggs abandoned on the counter, pan in the sink. Eddie imagines that this is what it feels like to be a prey animal stalked by a lion. Steve kissed him again and Eddie was helpless, his knees weak as Steve ran his hand down Eddie’s torso. Steve nipped at his ear and Eddie /whined/.
“What do you say we see what we can do about this, hmm?” Steve whispered in his ear as he palmed Eddie through his jeans.
“Is this real?” He asked
“If you want it to be.”
“I want it. I want you so bad.”
“You have me, baby.”
Eddie melted. When Robin got to Steve’s house they were clothed on the couch (thank God). Eddie was practically in Steve’s lap.
“Oh, you finally got your shit together.” She said when she saw them, “also, I’m not staying over if you didn’t change your sheets.”
Eddie blushed and Steve laughed opening his other side for Robin to join them.
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie is a disaster#Steve just wanted to dance and have some eggs#or did he?#what if it was planned?
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
omg I just find you and your writings are amazing♥️
Can you please do some husband headcanons please?
surely, i can try my best, thanks for the ask!!
Husband Headcanons
for Iruka, Kakashi, and Itachi (with wildcard appearances from Jiraiya and Obito) (GN!Reader)
Warnings: couple swear words, couple sexual references (Reader Discretion advised), fluff, lmk if this sucks
Iruka
Would suggest the springtime for the wedding, but Iruka would still happily marry you whenever your heart desired
Danced with you throughout the entire reception, only getting tipsy (enabling you to get comfortably inebriated)
Begs to carry you over the threshold like a gentleman, and the two of you spent the whole night consumating the union
Best sex you had ever had, and Iruka was of the same mind - both of you were totally in your element on your wedding night, and couldn't stop until noon the next day
Honeymoon takes place in the Land of Flowers, within a small settlement near the coast
Iruka pays for a week's stay at an Inn, and the two of you spend the days watching the water and walking through wildflower fields, collecting colourful, fragrant bouquets as you went
Domestically, such a teamplayer - Iruka will happily do the dishes after you cook dinner, and vice versa, he'll mop after you sweep, he turns on lights for you while you open windows
Would happily have a pet, probably a cat (orange or calico), but wouldn't be opposed to something a bit more spunky like a gekko or a rat
Dances with you in the living room while it rains, takes you (and your pet) out in the sunshine - he just loves to spend time with you and be with you
Kakashi
The wedding was small, kept to just close friends and your immediate family, probably just within the courthouse with a nice little reception after
Kakashi would carry you all the way from the reception to your shared apartment, right over the threshold, and it would take only a Hokage-level emergency to get him away from you after
Can't take a very long honeymoon because of his duties as Hokage, but will take you out for a long weekend in one of the coastal villages of the Land of Fire
Despite the long hours he works, Kakashi is the most attentive husband ever
Fresh flowers decorate a crystal vase on the coffee table, replaced every week, the trash is always taken out without you having to ask, he'll surprise you with full breakfasts on the weekends AND do the dishes after
Gets all bubbly every time he hits someone with a my spouse and is constantly bringing you up in conversation just to do so
Many nights are spent cuddling on the couch after dinner, reading independantly
You want a dog? Lovely! Kakashi wants a dog. You want a cat? Great! Kakashi wants a cat. A bird? A snake? A gerbil? Bring it on, that sounds fun.
Such a funny man, still needing to parade around the village with you in his arm, as if not everybody is already aware
Itachi
We're doing an Everything'sFine!AU because I'll cry otherwise
Massive wedding, so many floral arrangements, easily half the village shows up, Itachi cannot stop smiling the entire day
Literally tears up at the altar when he sees you, can't contain himself, you're such a vision
Takes you to the Land of Waterfalls for the most peaceful honeymoon of all
You two spend a week, or two, meditating with each other, drinking special teas, swimming for hours, wrapped in a lover's embrace that knits your hearts together even closer
Of course, in the hustle and bustle of the weekdays, Itachi establishes Saturday as Cleaning Day, and will clean the entire house, top to bottom, by himself (but will very much appreciate any help you provide)
Sunday is the day Itachi reserves to spend with you, either out on the town, or in the house, resting and relaxing together
Compliments every single look of yours as if it's the first time he's ever seen you, Itachi just can't believe his luck, and gets heart palpatations every single time he hears you call him your husband
Gets way more vulnerable after marriage, allowing himself to open up with a different level of confidence
Jiraiya
Destination wedding so people don't want to come, he wants the ceremony to be perfect and intimate
Gets so fucked up at the reception that you have to carry him over the threshold
He's such a sweetie about it when he wakes up though, apologising and fucking you reaaal good the entirety of the next day
Takes you on a month of travel, literally to every single Land
Writes you special poems and stories to wake up to while he's cheffing up the best breakfasts ever
Writes an entire book about you, and it was a best-seller
No one makes a better cup of tea than Jiraiya, and he's always got a tea ready for when you wake up, when you come home, after dinner
The absolute king of being in the same room while doing separate things, you're in his lap or holding his non-dominant hand, and every once in a while you'll share a brief kiss that might evolve into something a bit more distracting
Hugging and kissing as soon as you come home - he missed you so damn bad and needs to let you know
Is a very organized messy, but not at all dirty, Jiraiya doesn't mind when you clean up after him but would honestly prefer you didn't (he can't find things after, even if you tell him exactly where you put things)
Birthdays, Anniversaries, any opportunity to shower you in love and gifts, Jiraiya will take it and run with it
He just adores you and lets everyone know about it
Obito
Goofball gets an Officiant Certification and marries the two of you, himself
His vows are so long and so sweet that you can't even get yours out without stuttering and crying
Obito whisks you away to the Land of Hotsprings for nearly a month, immediately after the rings are exchanged
Finds nothing more fun than going out on dates with you while married, he almost likes it more than when you two were just going steady
Can't stand to let you sleep while he's awake, no matter how poorly he feels about depreiving you of sleep
Kisses and hugs every time the two of you are reunited
Obito won't ever shut up about you when you're apart, and it gets on everyone's nerves but Konan who finds his musings sweet
Lives, loves, laughs domestic life - he will do anything to make you happy, including the most grueling chores (those fucking baseboards)
Always makes you laugh, no matter how you're feeling, and he loves your laugh more than anything
#itachi x reader#kakashi x reader#iruka x reader#jiraiya x reader#obito x reader#itachi uchiha#kakashi hatake#iruka umino#jiraiya#obito uchiha#naruto headcanons#headcanon list
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
So the latest discourse is that saying that Sonic isn't a hugger and his clingy behavior towards Shadow in Prime is proof of how much the fandom loves to complain about the smallest things. In fact, "yall say Sonic should be free but yall don't want him to do anything".
I find it fascinating. One, the language that implies that fans who say "no Sonic wouldn't do X because it's OOC" are actively stifling a person's freedom. My dudes, Sonic is a character, not a real person. Please don't conflate the two.
Second... this is the same fandom that has been crying for 10 years that Shadow is being written terribly. That now he's just Vegeta, that he's nothing like he used to be, that his Boom portrayal was a travesty, that his prickliness towards Sonic is completely wrong because he has always respected him, really, go play SA2 where he was at his peak!
Why is Shadow's perceived character defended so staunchly, but defending Sonic's character comes off as restricting the freedom of the very character?
It's as if Sonic, to these fans, simply doesn't have a personality in the first place. He can be whatever we want him to be. Shadow, on the other hand, can only be how he used to be in a game 20 years old now, because we loved that one.
So the latest discourse is that saying that Sonic isn't a hugger and his clingy behavior towards Shadow in Prime is proof of how much the fandom loves to complain about the smallest things. In fact, "yall say Sonic should be free but yall don't want him to do anything".
youtube
If we're gonna treat Sonic like he's a real person, it's only fair to respect his boundaries, no? Why should your desire to see him be cuddly supersede his boundaries? Would you do that to a real person?
Ofc the better retort would be "Sonic is a fictional character with an established character and you're misconstruing his love of freedom to suit your flanderization; pull your head out of your ass," but since this argument was made in bad faith, you gotta meet it where it lives.
People have been misinterpreting Sonic's whole attitude towards freedom to justify OOC non-game portrayals. First they insisted that Sonic has some dutiful love for the platonic ideal of freedom and that was why he always showed his enemies mercy. Now they're saying "you won't let Sonic do anything," as if fans are physically preventing poor third-party creators like Prime's showrunners from creating Peak Sonic(tm) by... criticizing Sonic's behavior after the fact. Because that's totally how reality works.
No, Patrick. Just because Sonic is "like the wind" doesn't mean any and all behavior is automatically in-character for him.
I suppose tomorrow's discourse will contend that Sega should let Sonic take the fattest rip off that bong because ST put a gag drawing of Classic smoking cigarettes on the break room door thirty years ago.
lol 420 blaze it
Anyway, if you look at the games, you'll find that Sonic isn't actually that touchy-feely. He rarely, if ever, hugs other people, but is typically the party being hugged instead. And he is usually portrayed as awkward or uncomfortable: he doesn't know what to do with his arms.
While some may argue that Frontiers!Sonic now feels "comfortable" enough to put a hand on Amy while she clings to him, he isn't... exactly reciprocating? He only seems to feel comfortable being glomped on when focusing on his other friends:
He's still not looking at Amy, he's looking at Tails lmao. More like he's just waiting for her to finish because he's come to expect getting glomped for long periods of time.
Whenever Sonic "touches" someone who initiates contact, he usually holds them at arm's length.
This is how he holds his best friend in the entire world, the second half of the Unbreakable Bond. If not even Tails is exempt from the junior prom dance rule, what makes folks think Sonic would act even chummier towards Shadow of all people?
Besides, I'm sure Game!Shadow's reaction to Sonic even attempting to hug him would be
---
Second... this is the same fandom that has been crying for 10 years that Shadow is being written terribly. That now he's just Vegeta, that he's nothing like he used to be, that his Boom portrayal was a travesty,
It's really bizarre. I swear this is the only fandom where the main characters' IC behavior is derided as OOC purely because it doesn't gel with the fanon fandom has built up in their heads. Mostly because we've fostered this environment of "the games suck" through a constant background radiation of disparagement, with such messages seeping through every pore of Sonic fan spaces as:
1.) "Sonic is inconsistent"
2.) "the series was never good"
3.) "the Sega-Sonic character design standard is too generic and cookie-cutter"
4.) "the games are incapable of being as complex or as deep as [insert spinoff media here]"
5.) "Sonic is a static character [and therefore that's bad]"
6.) "Sonic vs. Eggman is boring and routine"
7.) "game purists think the games and/or Sega can never be criticized."
that his prickliness towards Sonic is completely wrong because he has always respected him, really, go play SA2 where he was at his peak!
Thus, the conundrum of being an SA2 fan in a day and age where fewer and fewer who hype it up have proven they've played it, much less understand the game's themes. I get stuck between this rock and hard place of being just as tired of the overhype, yet being forced to admit over and over again that I acknowledge my favorite Sonic game it isn't nearly as unimpeachably Peak(tm) as everyone portrays it so people won't think I'm... for lack of a better term, the kind of SA2 fan who thinks SA2!Shadow is the GOAT. Battle!Shadow is the GOAT and nothing anybody says can change my mind. None of you fake-ass Shadows ever said anything nearly as metal as "This is the final voice of the last war machine," have you? I thought not
It can't be understated how much Gerald's brainwashing mitigates SA2!Shadow's portrayal. Although it doesn't completely invalidate the entire portrayal, it does beg questions of how much he was driven by forces outside his control.
While there are aspects of SA2!Shadow's character worth genuine analysis, people exaggerate his better qualities while ignoring or downplaying his less palatable traits (traits he displays in later portrayals as well), like the showboating and arrogance. And like I always say with Shadow, you can't cut him up into pieces like that. You have to accept the whole, rough edges and all.
It also doesn't escape my notice that SA2!Shadow advocates imply the only time Shadow ever had a "good" portrayal was before he underwent character development, which is another stereotype of us SA2 fans: that we perpetually huff nostalgia think the past is better simply for being the past.
Meanwhile, I've been saying for years that I would love for someone, anyone, to give Shadow something to do that has nothing to do with the ARK. That's why my first reaction upon hearing about SxS Gens was to headdesk. You have a character who's all about forging his own path and moving on, yet you're always sticking him in the same goddamn hamster wheel. Why.
---
Why is Shadow's perceived character defended so staunchly, but defending Sonic's character comes off as restricting the freedom of the very character?
It's as if Sonic, to these fans, simply doesn't have a personality in the first place. He can be whatever we want him to be. Shadow, on the other hand, can only be how he used to be in a game 20 years old now, because we loved that one.
Tbqh, I don't think it's fair to pit Sonic and Shadow against each other like that because the entire cast, really, is being gutted by a fandom that insists the games have nothing of substance to respect. God knows people make shit up for Shadow and claim it has canonical basis too. And, you know, sometimes they don't even bother to do that - they just make things up simply because they figure the tropes that are good enough for other franchises must be good enough for Sonic as well. Looking at you, "Shadow was tortured on the ARK."
Sonic, Shadow, Eggman, Rouge, Cream, Tails, Amy, Knuckles, Silver... Most, if not all, the core cast has it bad these days. And I don't think this fanonization is going to get any better unless there's a change in fandom culture. Not until people stop thinking of the games as inferior and game purists as the no-fun-allowed fiction police.
26 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ghostface Sam! x reader fluff using the prompt "Stay with me" Please and thank you!!
Stay? - Ghostface!Sam x reader
The news had spread through the town fast. A masked killer. People were scared to leave their houses, scared to go to the school, scared to even be in their houses. You however had to go to school, you needed to keep your grades up and besides your best friend, Sam, he’s not afraid of anything and if he’s going then so are you. You smile as you notice him approaching your locker. People have always looked at him weird due to his blue hair and unusual sense of style but you loved it. “How are you?” He asks as he stops beside you. “Honestly?,” You question, he nods “I’m terrified, there’s a killer out there and he seems to be targeting people from our school” You say seriously.
“I would never let anything happen to you” He assures you. “You know I love you but how are you going to fight off a killer?” You ask, he looks as if you just asked him an insane question before he smirks. “I’ve got some skills” He says, before you can question him he tugs you into your history classroom. The two of you sit at your desks. You continue to think about the killer and what you’re meant to do considering your parents are going out tonight. “Sammy?” You whisper over to him. He turns his head in your direction. “After the party tonight, would you walk me home?” You ask quietly. He nods immediately before turning back to his work.
After school you get ready for the party and head to Liliana’s house, meeting sam there. Unfortunately it was a costume party and what better costume than your towns own killer, so it appears most people were dressed like him. You startle as a pair of hands wraps around your waist. “What’re you doing here alone angel?” A voice questions behind you. “Waiting for a friend” You say stepping out of his hands. He holds firm. A silence grows between the two of you before he shouts boo at you. He slides the mask off revealing it’s just Sam. “You’re an asshole you know that?” You say covering your face with your hands. “Oh i’m sorry angel” He says mockingly as he flicks your angel wings.
The two of you join the rest of your peers on the dance floor. You dance for about an hour before Sam tells you that he needs to head to the bathroom. He walks off leaving you alone, dancing with no one. After a strange amount of time you’re confused by his absence. You head to the bathroom in search of him, upon the realization that it’s empty you assume he left you. Heading outside you stand on the porch. A scream sounds from inside as someone says that rick is dead. You didn’t know rick well though he did have a tendency to flirt with you. Everyone sprints away from the house but you still can’t find Sam.
You turn and start to head back into the house before a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you away. You sigh in relief at the realization that it’s Sam. “Where have you been?” You practically yell. He shushes you, and leads you down the street towards your house. Once the two of you settle into your living room you take the time to look him over, admiring him, your best friends always been pretty. You notice a slight hint of red on the fabric of his costume but assume it was just something stupid from the party. “Can you believe ricks dead?” You say, pulling your legs up under you.
He joins you on the couch after taking his costume off. “that’s crazy” He says in a tone that suggests he doesn’t really care. “Let’s get you to bed yeah?” He adds. The two of you head up to your bedroom, you head into the bathroom and change before settling on your bed. “Sam? Will you stay with me?” You ask quietly. “My parents are gone and I don’t want to be alone” You add hoping it’ll convince him, not that he needed any convincing. He nods “Of course” He says sliding into the bed with you. You close your eyes and begin to drift off. “Sweet dreams angel” He whispers at the top of your head. He then smiles knowing rick or any other guy will never be able to talk to you again without meeting… well the sharp edge of a knife.
#sam monroe#sam monroe x reader#sam monroe x you#sam monroe x y/n#biggestsimponhere#ghostface!sam monroe#sam monroe fluff#hayden christensen characters#hayden christensen fanfiction#hayden christensen
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
first love chronicles
first love comes in all shapes and forms. and every single one of them is every as beautiful as the rest. i have poured my soul into each one of these so i hope that you find love in these, for each of these stories have been filled with it.
something about these mirrors
you and shotaro have always been friendly with each other. as in, you have to be friends with each other because you've been each others' dance partner for the past twelve years. it's as though no matter how old you grow, how many different styles you try, or even how far apart you move, the two of you always manage to find each other on the dance floor. it's a blessing and a curse but when a dance competition for charity brings the two of you together after years apart, something about the way your body moves with his makes shotaro rethink all your years of dancing together.
find love here: still searching for love
mr. brawn and ms. brain
you hate athletes. eunseok is an athlete. eunseok is in love with you. it doesn't take a genius to see that there's an issue with this equation. after a one-sided love for the past three years, eunseok is saved when the two of you are partnered to work on an english project together. which means that eunseok's first step of getting you to fall in love with him is done. next step: get you to give him the time of day...
find love here: coming soon!
why ares fell in love with aphrodite
sometimes first love doesn't come in the form of sandbox friendships or in shared popsicles under sweltering sun. sometimes, first love is the smell of diesel from revving engines. or the feeling of cool beer cans under your fingertips. or the look in someone's eyes when you know that you shouldn't be caught dead with them. sometimes, when first love is learning that ares fell in love with aphrodite because love can be just dangerous as war.
find love here: still searching for love
listening to the ocean with the seashell you brought from home
there's something about permanent fixtures in life. parents, best friends...siblings. and sometimes most importantly, siblings' best friends. park wonbin has always shone a little too bright. the kind of bright that gives you butterflies, even though you know that he's never meant it in that way. you've loved wonbin from the day your brother had brought him home. so why is it that thirteen years later, you still love him?
find love here: might have found love...
and i feel it now
seunghan sees his kid sister as just that: a kid. he's always been the overprotective type, chasing his sister around with sweatpants to go over the micros she preferred. and by proxy, as her best friend, you've kinda always been someone that seunghan has felt protective and somewhat overbearing towards. but when he sees you for the first time in years at college graduation, seunghan is forced to face the reality that all the boundaries he'd created in his head were just in his head and that maybe he'd never quite seen you as the kid he'd always thought you'd be.
find love here: still searching for love
slip away
sohee knows two things: he wants to be a singer and he wants to grow old with you. he doesn't quite care about in which form that he grows old with you but sohee can't even imagine a world where you don't exist. you're just as necessary to him as food or water. but as the two of you grow older and start to grow apart, sohee understands that distance only makes the heart grow fonder and that he's been in love with a long damn time with you.
find love here: still searching for love
i like me better
there are a few givens in life: birth, death, and the fact that neither you or anton will ever confess your feelings to each other. even though the two of you have been in the same friend group for years, and everyone around you know not to make a move on either of you because you were spoken for, those three words would never come out. but then the summer that changes everything comes and you find yourself realizing that matters of the heart never stay hidden for too long.
find love here: still searching for love
#jnnul#riize x reader#riize masterlist#riize fic#shotaro x reader#shotaro fic#shotaro fluff#eunseok x reader#eunseok fluff#eunseok fic#sungchan x reader#sungchan fluff#sungchan fic#wonbin x reader#wonbin fluff#wonbin fic#seunghan x reader#seunghan fluff#seunghan fic#sohee x reader#sohee fluff#sohee fic#anton x reader#anton fluff#anton fic#riize imagines#riize
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
if i could go back in time — hwang hyunjin
⇨ chapter one : a loop of fate
⇨ pairing - hyunjin x fem!reader
⇨ word count : 1.4k
a/n -- first chapter !! i swearrr i have longer and better chapters coming ( they will be unscheduled for now, so join the taglist if you want to be tagged for them ty ) 😭😭 this was sort of a crappy "first draft" that i was too lazy to edit.. anyway pls enjoy to the best of your ability
series masterlist | next
is there ever that one memory that your mind can't help but wander to occasionally?
mine constantly played like a broken record in my head, flickering like an undying candle in the crevices of my brain. an unwavering light in the blurry paraphernalia of memories.
i remember that day quite clearly. the day i lost one of the people i loved the most. the day my world came crashing down on me.
every day i throw myself into a whirlwind of grief, blood, and tears subconciously. i was locked in a cinema, forced to watch it over and over again in front of my eyes.
it physically hurt, but it was uncontrollable.
we were in the middle of the road.
drunk at a university party, the alcohol and endorphins in our system were going through the roof. we ended up stumbling outside the house for a breath of fresh air, and we were waltzing in the middle of an empty street.
what a stupid decision.
and i thought it was romantic.
it was, technically speaking — if you were drunk, that is. the dim street lights cast a warm glow over the street, showering our intertwined bodies moving in synchronized steps in a splash of illumination. if someone captured the scene with a camera, with the shadows of two figures dancing on the ground, you’d consider the view sentimental somehow. straight out of a cliché movie scene.
every once a while, through all the movement we'd step away from each other, and i would twirl under his arm with our hands still entwined. then smiles were exchanged when our gazes met, and his beautiful eyes would sparkle. i felt like i could continue on like this forever and not get tired at all.
but he suddenly stopped me and his hands rested on either sides of my waist, prompting me to face him. i stared up in his face, a smile resting on my own. a smile that was reserved for him, and only him.
then he kissed me.
it was slow and passionate. my eyes fluttered closed as he held me in his arms, time slowing down around us as there was no one except us.
and maybe it was the fact that we were drunk. maybe it was because we were so lost in the moment and so focused on love—
maybe it was both.
because we didn't hear the sound of a humming car motor until it was three feet away from us.
he heard it first.
i felt his body stiffen against mine, hands going rigid on my hips. my eyes opened, only to be looking up at a face filled with horror and shock, a strange light that i didn’t know from where it came brightening his side profile. confused, i opened my mouth to speak, but i was abruptly pushed away to the side of the road, my head hitting the cement before i could realize what was happening. my ears picked up on a crash, the deafening screech of brakes.
and a body falling to the cold, hard ground.
the last thing i saw was a familar silhouette through my half-closed eyes and a car just beside them.
then the world went black.
six years later
different people process breakups in different ways.
some people go on with their ordinary lives like it was just a speck of dust on the table. they pick it up, and throw it away.
other people, however, see it as a tablecloth, covering the entirety of the table. then they go get their best friend and cry to them about it. or if they’re unsociable, then they usually go to the club or the bar to cry with the accompaniment of alcohol.
that was you, frankly. unsociable and introverted.
were breakups always this depressing?
the atmosphere of the dimly lit bar was humid and damp. the air smelled of dried sweat and liquor. music sounded around the space, supposed to lift your spirits, but your face as wet with tears.
it was straightforward proof that unpleasant luck had landed upon yourself. your latest acquaintance, a guy named wooyoung you met at a club, was one another addition to the pile of failed relationships.
he was a perfect person, to be direct. he was sweet, bought you gifts, and cooked. a literal angel. not to mention, he was incredibly good in bed.
average boyfriend material, or so you thought.
it happened one night, when he was in the shower. he was over at your place, staying the night. you had hoped that tonight would be what you thought it’d look like.
then everything happened in a blur. a text tone, you getting curious, then accidentally finding out there was someone else.
another girl. it was almost funny how your suspicions were always right.
you confronted wooyoung about it, then he got mad and left after a very heated argument.
all the plans of an actual peaceful future were shattered in that one small moment.
you thought you had finally found someone who you loved, and loved you. someone who you thought could cover up all the pain that was buried deep in your heart, hidden by the bigger worries of your career and life.
thought, thought, thought.
all thoughts, never reality...
the hurt that your mind experienced when you thought of the cause of the pain could not be beared.
you couldn’t remember the last relationship that made you happy, truly happy. the only one that actually did ended devastatedly.
you also couldn’t remember the last time you got drunk like this.
usually you were nowhere near open to big amounts of alcohol.
the last time you’d downed more than five shots consecutively was back in university, at a party. but that was for a different reason than why you were drinking now. it was for fun, purely fun.
and that supposed fun had been cut off disastrously. it ended up in a pool of tears and blood.
but somehow every single thought in your brain always took a turn and led to thinking of it. the day that made your life become a turn of events.
it was a never-ending loop, and your thoughts constantly ran in circles, always leading to the same place. like a song on repeat on a broken cd player that couldn’t be turned off.
you took a swig of your shot glass, swallowing all the thoughts away.
you gestured to the bartender for more. your head felt light, and dizziness was seeping into your system by the second.
looking around the bar, you took in your surroundings. this bar was one of the popular ones in the city, the space larger than most others. the dance floor was bustled with people, but you never participated in the crowd activities, being too unsociable even under the influence of alcohol. you would’ve preferred to stay home and drink, but you forgot to purchase liquor after your last breakup.
the bartender placed another rack of tiny shot glasses on the table, promptly leaving to take another customer’s order. picking up the miniature cup, you stared at the brownish liquid before taking a big swig and finishing the whole thing in one go. your throat burned as you swallowed, but you didn’t care.
it felt good, strangely.
why was everything turning into something bad? something that you were scared of happening?
you felt like everything in life, supposed fate, was cornering you and forcing you to plunge in eternal darkness. the harder you tried to make things better, the worse they became.
fate was what ruined your life and was still ruining it. when would something good actually happen?
you picked up another glass from the rack as another customer sat down in the high seat next to you.
they were two guys, chatting and laughing loudly. you closed your eyes at the headache coming on at all the noise, adding on to the already bustling atmosphere of the club. you should leave soon and suffer your hangover.
“yeah, just back for some business,” one of them said with a laugh.
through the blur and ache in your mind, your eyes shot open. was it just your imagination? the glass of liquor stayed in your grasp as your gaze turned towards the guys.
you swore that you knew that voice, that laugh. it was one that you would never get tired of hearing.
but after what happened years ago, you thought you’d never hear it ever again.
the guy turned towards the bartender standing behind the counter to order his drink. your eyes scanned over his features, and you almost let out a cry.
it was the curve of his nose, the brightness of his eyes, and the pout of his lips that you knew so well. his hair, kept in the same length as it was six years ago, was now pitch black. you swallowed the bile that had risen up in your throat. it couldn’t be him.
hwang hyunjin.
taglist : @hildaortara @203sucks @iovecb97
-> join taglist here
#skz#stray kids#stray kids hyunjin#skz hyunjin#hyunjin stray kids#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#fanfic#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#skz x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#hyunjin x you#hyunjin x y/n#hyunjin x reader#stray kids blog#stray kids x y/n#div cr to their respective creators !!
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Becky is apologizing for him now 💀
#“sorry for my dumb friend”#“he's being dumb”#“but i still want him to dance with my best friend#“so sorry”#damianya#becky blackbell#spy x family#sxf manga spoilers#sxf manga
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Ahhh got harassed by a random guy at the concert after-party could y'all just fucking not
#tw harassment idk what to call this#first interaction: hi you dance good and are hot#second interaction: him asking me out and me saying no#third interaction: saying im hot#fourth interaction: him asking me on a date then asking if im married#me saying I have a wife and pointedly calling my partner my wife#him going great I have two new best friends and asking for a hug and us turning him down#fifth interaction: him letting me know that he's leaving and asking me out before remembering I already said no#sixth interaction: him asking me out again before remembering I said no and saying goodbye again#last interaction: him coming to say bye to me again#me really quickly saying bye and not really giving him much attention#and him getting all upset about my not giving him attention to a friend he was with#mind you this is all happening while I'm trying to focus on watching a really cool local band perform#like this guy got upset I wasn't giving him attention during literally the last song on the set when I was just trying to enjoy the moment#fucking hell can entitled people with no respect for boundaries get the fuck away from me#I want to be nice but then people treat me weird and I don't like it#but how can I stop that while still being nice?#and is it my being nice that's the issue or do I just want to feel like I have control so that I can feel safe?
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
i'm hurt 🥲
#it's been 8 years and i still dream of my best friend who i was in love with in high school#last night was way too much though#like i met him again and replayed all the memories we had.. like dancing around in the rain#and since it was raining i told him to dance with me again even though it felt different#i knew he didn't feel shit for me bc he rejected me back in hs too but when i started talking about another guy he did NOT like it#and he admitted it... questioned me about him and then we kissed ???#he told me to call him every now n then bc up until now it was always just him calling. like the jealousy was SO OBVIOUS#we kind of get together.. literally my 18 y/o's dream coming true like y'all i was SO IN LOVE WITH HIM LMAO#and then i ask him 'be honest did you feel something for me back in hs' and he just won't answer 🥲 keeps dodging the question...#suggests smth that sounds like a yes but then i woke up 😐#i just wanted to let this out... idk it's crazy to me that even after all those years i still think of him#like if he approached me today and asked me out i just KNOW i'd give in. even though it's been almost a decade. i would definitely give in#first loves.. especially unrequited ones... leave an impact fr#my dream sounded like a fic i'd like to come true but well that's not how life works#anyways i'm just sentimental lol tdl ??#personal
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:
Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.
Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.
Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.
Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.
If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.
Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.
Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.
Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.
Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.
Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:
Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.
Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)
Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.
How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.
30K notes
·
View notes
Text
Little Heaven
Synopsis. He’s just your friend-with-benefits, right? So why - in the still haze of the soft sheets and you, fúcking you so sensual and tenderly - does he feel like he’s found his own personal heaven?
Pairing. Multiple x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, kinda fluffy, he’s both pússydrunk and in love, slow to rough, marking, mentions of marriage and kids, morning, swearing.
Word count. 1.3k
A/N. Probably the fluffiest smút I’ve ever written.
You were just his friend-with-benefits, right? No strings attached, right?
So why was he here? Sinking into your plush mattress, quiet morning sun just barely peeking in through the curtains as he wraps his arms around your naked figure.
God, he really shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be laying you on your side, drinking in your soft little, “G’mornin’.” Both of your movements languid and still burning with soreness. Your hips pushing back desperately into his as he positions himself so that his leaking tip was just kissing your swollen folds.
He shouldn’t be whispering soft kisses into the marks that littered your skin. Licking one, long stripe up the sinful trail of hickies down your neck. All sensual touches where it was bruising grips last night.
That was rule #1, right? No marks.
Or was it #4…
Ah, right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck. Not when his greedy eyes wander the expanse of your face, fingers trailing along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Tracing delicate patterns across your skin, snaking down, down, down to leisurely lift your leg a little higher.
Bare chest warm against your back, his voice is low and gravelly in your ear as he whispers, “I had a dream y’know.”
Mind still thinly veiled with sleep, you lean into his warm touch, “Mhm?”
Your breath hitches at the way he drags his swollen head teasingly across your slit, pooling your slick on his achingly hard tip. Smearing your juices with his thumb as he pumps himself lazily. It’s so torturously good. You almost miss the way he buries his face into the crook of your neck, murmuring a soft “Had a dream of us.”
Oh?
Before you can overthink his words, he’s nudging in gently. So agonizingly gentle. And you can do nothing more than let out barely-audible whispers of his name as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt.
You feel so full. So drunk off of the delicious burn of your pussy and him.
And it seems he was drunk on you just as much, because as soon as his hips are flush against yours, the words escape him. So quiet and groggy with sleep, that you almost don’t catch them.
“Had a dream that I made you my beautiful bride.”
Oh.
That was new. His words hung heavy in the heady air.
Shivers run down your spine - all the way to where he was buried in your dripping cunt. Your voice is slightly shaky as you let out a humorless laugh, “Oh yeah? Must’ve been a nightmare then.”
Soft lips press against your forehead, breathing in your scent. Absolutely searing as he mutters out a muffled, “No, was the best dream I ever had.”
And then, with the audacity of someone who didn’t just send your mind reeling, he pulls his hips back unhurriedly. Immediately fucking into you at a slow, sensual pace. Tip kissing your cervix as he rolls his hips languidly into yours, making sure you feel every bump and graze against your tight walls.
You don’t know what’s more maddening - his agonizing pace or the words that tumble out of his lips. “Y’looked so beautiful in white. So pretty walking down the aisle to me.”
His lips brush against yours, hands dancing across every inch of you he could reach. Gently caressing the skin like it’s something divine, soothing over the marks from last night as if an apology. “Don’ think I’d want to see anyone else there.”
You glance back at him - only to find his eyes already on you. A jolt of electricity runs across your skin at the pure warmth in them. And you realize that, no, this wasn’t a joke.
Not trusting yourself to speak, you simply grind your hips down to meet his, abs rubbing against your ass. Letting out a broken whimper of what sounds like his name as he moves down a hand to press rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit.
“Saw a little something else too.” he hums, a sly smile curling his lips as his other hand dances across your body to press down on your stomach. Hard. “Saw that I had some competition - two actually. Funny, right?”
“Hah- h-hilarious.” you manage to choke out as his thumb speeds up on your clit, hips moving a bit more purposefully. A bit more like you were used to. Rock-hard cock plunging into your quivering cunt in deliberate, sloppy thrusts that have you white-knuckling the sheets.
“Though…” he trails off dangerously, pulling back all the way until his furiously hard tip was just kissing your waiting hole. “I wouldn’t really mind.”
And with that he’s sheathing his throbbing erection in your wet pussy completely. A gasp of delight leaves him at the way you take him so readily. Walls sucking him up so sinfully - perfect. You were always so perfect for him.
“Dreamt we had a lil’ house with a big garden.” God, he can feel his cock harden so painfully at the fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your pretty lips each time his hip smack into yours. It’s music to his ears, such a shame he just can’t shut the fuck up right now. “And then you dressed the kids up while I made breakfast.”
“Then you made us do taxes and I didn’t even fucking mind.” His voice is strained now, words slurring together as he rams his cock deeper and deeper, glistening with your slick in the soft morning glow.
“And finally at night, I say we should make a third one.”
He looks at you, a sly grin stretching his lips, eyes half-lidded and a dangerous twinkle in them that has you wondering whether everything he said before was merely a ruse to fuck you silly. And it probably shows on your face - because he grins lowly in your ear, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we have till our wedding night f’me to fuck you slow.”
And oh he almost feels guilty. But he can’t bring himself to slow down at the way your swollen lips drop into such a pretty oh! at his words. Mewling at the sting of his heavy balls as they smack your ass. Walls clamping down desperately on his dick, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy as he focuses on making you lose your mind.
He shifts his angle slightly, grinding expertly against your g-spot just right, and you throw your head back, releasing a low moan of his name.
“Shit. Yeah, say m’name, sweetheart. Jus’ like that.” he moans breathlessly.
His name - soon to be yours.
Maybe.
You turn your head to face him, eyes fiery as you capture his in an equally scorching kiss. Cock slamming into your poor, abused cunt with an intensity that matches that of your lips.
Probably.
Biting down on his lower lips, soft yet insistent. Humming deliriously against his mouth - and in the heat of it all, he feels you smile against his lips. Ever-so-slightly.
Definitely.
And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure behind your eyes, walls clamping down so deliciously around his twitching cock. It sends him over the edge as well - whispering your name as if a prayer, voice hoarse with emotions neither of you could name at this very moment.
Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your trembling cunt white, milking the soul out of him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forming around his base as some truly animalistic part of himself fucks his seed into you - a promise, he likes to think.
“I’m serious about the dream.”
Almost as gentle as that one.
As the haze settles, his thrusts slowing down to just shallow grinds, a fragile silence envelopes the room as neither of you speak. Because maybe no other words were needed.
And right now, morning sunlight harsh on his skin, strong arms pulling you warm body flush against his, no one but you two in this quiet world - he doesn’t think he’d like to be anywhere else.
All is well in your little heaven.
- GOJO, GETO, Choso, SUNA, ATSUMU, Tsukishima, Kuroo, EREN
A/N. Bro it took longer to think of what to write than to write this.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#aot x reader#aot smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#gojo x reader#gojo smut#choso x reader#choso smut#geto x reader#geto smut#tsukishima x reader#kuroo x reader#suna x reader#atsumu x reader#eren x reader#suna smut#kuroo smut#tonywrites#eren smut#atsumu smut#tsukishima smut
5K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
thehapahulksblog
Thehapahulk
classyalpacayouth
Untitled
tomluongo
Tom Luongo
her-sissy-faggot-bf
Her Sissy Faggot Boyfriend
fatiiiimmmma
Untitled