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#might not even realize it until after the fact or don’t understand exactly how your words can affect other people. kris wasn’t reacting abd

notafunkiller · 3 months

Text

best daddy ever

Summary: When Sam drops by unannounced, he discovers something new about Bucky.

Pairing: thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: teasing, pet names, daddy kìnk, language, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 1K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“You know that’s not funny, right?”

You giggle when you hear his broody tone as you make your way to the kitchen. You don’t realize that his words are not directed at you until you almost have a heart attack.

Of course you scream in shock when you see Sam sitting casually at your table while Bucky is leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed.

He immediately rushes toward you, though, when you place a hand on your chest. Your heart is beating so fast.

“Are you okay, honey?”

The way he casually wraps his arm around your waist casually to pull you closer in front of Sam makes you melt. You might never get used to him initiating PDA, but it makes you really happy.

“I’m okay, I’m sorry for screaming.”

You know he’s about to scold you for apologizing, but thankfully Sam speaks first.

“Hi, cutie. No worries, I came to annoy your tinman.”

You don’t even have to look at Bucky to know he’s rolling his eyes, his grip tightening on your hip as he groans.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call her that?”

“So you don’t think she’s cute?”

You bring your hand to his chest just to distract him a bit. Sam loves to push his buttons almost as much as you do.

“Yeah, James, don’t you?”

You know you’re playing with fire after earlier, but it’s too fun not to. Especially when he gives you that look... you’re in trouble look. And you love to be in trouble with him.

“Get out of our house, Cap, so I can show her exactly how cute I think she is.”

Neither of you expected this since you both gasped. Bucky is sassy, that’s for sure, but you didn’t anticipate this type of casual sexual innuendo comment. Because he meant sex, right? There is no way he didn’t unless he is cruelly teasing you in vain.

“Guess the Winter Soldier is not so wint-” But Sam doesn’t finish his sentence, throwing his hands in the air in defense while still laughing when Bucky looks at him again. “Glad it still works, I was a little worried.”

“No need to worry, Sam, I promise.“ You smirk, patting Bucky’s ass twice before going to the coffee maker, stealing a whine out of him. “Want to stay for breakfast?”

“No,” Bucky answers for him, and you roll your eyes. You know Sam doesn’t mind his attitude because he’s known him for a long time, but you still want to be a good host.

“I can make crepes if you-”

“Doll, please.”

Sam looks at Bucky, then at you, and winks, smiling widely. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. But don’t forget what I told you and stay out of trouble.“

It’s too vague for you to understand, so you’ll just wait for Sam to be gone to interrogate Bucky.

“Goodbye, Cap.”

And there he is, softer Bucky. You grab a cup for him too, and he smiles. You’ve never seen a more beautiful man in your entire life. He is magnetic and charming, and you feel like kissing him all the time. You don’t know how you managed to get him as your boyfriend, but you’re grateful.

“What is this? Oh my god, you kinky old man!”

Confused, you immediately make your way to the living room, following Bucky. You don’t know what Sam could have seen to say that, and you definitely didn’t expect him to hold Bucky’s cap in both of his hands, analyzing it. Your gift... Shit!

“Best. Daddy. Ever?”

You close your eyes, embarrassed, but Bucky, surprisingly, doesn’t seem to feel the same way. You don’t sense any shame or change in his vibes or posture. He simply stares at Sam as usual and snatches the cap from his hands.

“That’s mine.”

“I realized, daddy.” Sam can’t stop laughing even when he turns his head toward you. But when he sees you all serious, his face drops. “Or do you mean…”

“Mean what?“ You snap, a bit annoyed about the fact you two got busted in such a stupid way. And it’s all Bucky’s fault since he’s the one who left it there.

Only when Sam lowers his eyes to your belly, do you realize what he means.

“No, she’s not pregnant, idiot!”

“So you really have a fucking daddy kink? How do you even know-“ He stops mid-sentence, still totally taken aback, and Bucky sneaks behind you to open the entrance door. “How did you manage to corrupt this old man?”

You can’t help but laugh this time. If only he knew the truth...

Bucky puffs, pushing Sam out. “Goodbye, Sam!”

Thankfully, before Bucky could close the door in his face, you manage to say goodbye and wave:

“Trust me, I was not the one doing the corruption with this.”

You wish you could see Sam’s face. What a loss!

“He won’t stop talking about this, you know that, right?”

“You’re the one who left it here, so blame yourself.”

You take the cap from the table, where he put it, and walk straight to him, getting on your tiptoes before placing it on his head. Bucky looks at you with a mix of surprise and amusement as you adjust the cap to sit just right. He is the best daddy ever, indeed. If Sam heard how dirty Bucky could get during sex, he’d die. Contrary to what he believed, Bucky is the one who came up with this whole daddy thing while you were in the middle of fucking raw, right after he finished a mission. It rolled shyly but naturally of his tongue, and of course you liked it. You love calling him daddy even if you do it just to tease him. But it must be so hard, probably, for Sam to picture this mountain of a man, quiet but also sassy, knowing his past, like this.

“You’re staring.” Bucky smirks, and you feel your knees weakening. God, that smile! “And you’re horny.”

“What if I am? Gonna take care of me, daddy?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu #sebastian stan #sam wilson #blurb #bucky barnes blurb #my fanfics #my stories #tfatws

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iconicstoner · 1 month

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I don't feel like Emmett gets enough love...maybe something where reader really wants his attention but he is hunting (or something like that) and really misses the feeling of his lips and hands...I'd also prefer to see how cheeky and lighthearted he can be...thank youuuu

a/n: I really loved writing this and thank you sm for the request! Emmett is a super underrated character and I always love getting to write about him. I hope you enjoy the story :)

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miss me?

gn!reader x emmett cullen (fluff)

words: 1243

summary: You can’t help missing Emmett, your boyfriend, while he’s away hunting. When he’s finally back he learns how much you missed him, which results in him playfully teasing you.

“Is it even fair that you’re playing Scrabble with us?” you ask Edward, frustrated about your losing streak. Esme, Carlile, Edward, and you are all playing Scrabble together in the living room. Alice and Rosalie are there too, but neither of them are playing. Rosalie is watching a soap opera and Alice is knitting something. She says it’s going to be a sweater, but it doesn’t really look like one.

“It’s Scrabble, not poker. Reading minds doesn’t exactly help me with this game,” Edward responds as he lays down the word fuliginous.

“What the fuck kind of work is fuliginous?” you ask, annoyed with him.

“It means sooty,” Edward said sassily. Carlisle laughed under his breath, trying to hide it. Carlisle and Esme had really embraced you as one of their kids, but like most siblings, you and Edward were always teasing each other about something. In fact, most people in this family were always teasing each other. It made everyone feel more human to not be so grim all the time. That’s what had originally attracted you to Emmett. He was always laughing or cracking jokes, and he reminded you not to take everything so seriously. That’s why when he first confessed his love to you, you thought it was just some joke. Right after, when he started kissing you, you realized it was serious.

“I forfeit,” Carlisle said.

“What?” You asked disappointedly. In the Cullen house it was widely agreed that if someone forfeit it felt like no one truly won.

“Yeah, he’s got nothing he can play,” Edward responded. Clearly his mind reading was helping him with Scrabble.

“Why do you seem so upset?” Esme asked you, softly touching your hand. At heart, she was such a mother.

“Because Scrabble was an effort to pass the time while waiting for Emmett to come back,” Edward responded while looking at you, trying to embarrass you. Yesterday, Emmett and Jasper left to go hunting together and they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Emmett returning had been all that you’d thought about since he left, and it was starting to drive Edward insane. You couldn’t get his lips off your mind. Cold, soft, always ready to kiss you with so much passion. The thought of his hands was even worse. You reminisced on how large and strong they were. You constantly replayed in your mind the memories of Emmett holding your hips like someone holding onto their favorite mug. Tightly, tight enough to never drop it, but gentle enough to not make it shatter.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back early,” Alice tells you from across the room. “But when they’re back you might not be so happy about it,” Alice warns you playfully. Edward laughs, presumably having already seen whatever Alice predicted. You just roll your eyes and start to clean up the board game.

The next day you stayed in bed all morning watching reruns of your favorite show, hiding away under your comforter. You only got out of bed and got dressed for the day after Alice told you to “look presentable for when Emmett gets home.” Even if she also teased about how much you missed Emmett that weekend, you knew she’d understand. According to Edward, she’d been thinking about nothing but date ideas for when Jasper was back. You were biased, so of course you thought that you and Emmet were the cutest couple, but you had to admit Jasper and Alice were a very close second.

“They’re here!” Alice shouted excitedly from downstairs. You quickly rushed down, excited to see Emmett once again. It had been a long weekend, and even if you had infinite time with him, it never made the time away from him any easier.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jasper says as he walks through the front door, quickly grabbing Alice’s hand and kissing it gently. Emmett walked in a few seconds later and began to lean on the doorframe. He had one hand on his waist and the other propped up against the door frame, trying to look seductive. As always, it worked.

“Miss me, sweetheart?” Emmett asks you playfully. You laugh and he quickly walks over to envelop you in a hug, running his hands through your hair after he does.

“How do you know about that,” you ask confusedly, reluctantly removing yourself from the hug.

“Well, according to the rest of the family you just couldn’t stand to be without me. Constantly talking about how you miss my muscles and my mouth and my-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you say, embarrassed. He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you have to try not to laugh.

“Y’know, I remember you thinking about how when you got Emmett alone again you were gonna-” You immediately cut Edward off the same way you had Emmett. It’s a miracle Emmett can’t blush, because he knows if he was human he’d be firetruck red.

“Oh, I’m gonna kill you,” you shout as you try to jump at Edward. Emmett quickly grabs you by the waist, pulling you back as you make an attempt to strangle Edward. You hear Emmet laugh at your antics as you send a piercing glare Edward’s way.

“Calm down, killer,” Emmett remarks lightheartedly. Edward hisses at you like a cat that’s been dumped in water, so you reach an arm out to him, pretending to try and claw at him.

“Oh! They’re having another cat fight!” Alice exclaims, causing the whole room to laugh.

“Let’s get you away from this moron,” Emmett jokes, throwing a cheeky glance at Edward. Without warning, he quickly throws you over his shoulder and begins to walk toward your bedroom. That vampire speed and strength really allows him to do anything. You make an attempt to playfully hit his back as you dangle from his shoulder, but it’s a fruitless endeavor. You hear small laughs from everyone else, but you're not even embarrassed. They’re your family.

“So, what was it you were gonna do to me when we’re alone?” Emmett asks playfully as he walks up the stairs, still carrying you. He sets you down on the ground when the two of you make it to your room, looking at you with an expectant smirk. You sit on the bed, and he looks down at you curiously.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” you tease.

“Don’t taunt me,” he warns with a grin. “Besides, I don’t blame you. Who could resist a big strong man like moi?” He asks as he begins to flex his biceps.

“Yuck,” you joke, pushing his arm away.

“Oh please,” he rolls his eyes playfully and sits down next to you. “I heard about how much you missed me. And my hands. And my lips.”

“I really will kill Edward,” You respond, deadpan.

“You’ll have to get through me first,” Emmett teases. He wraps his arms around you and flexes his muscles, causing them to tighten around you.

“No way, I’ll feel too bad when you lose,” you say, trying to hold back a smile as you pretend to be worried about him losing a fight to you.

“In your dreams,” he scoffs, removing his arms from around you, pretending to be hurt.

“In my dreams for sure,” you respond flirtatiously, causing Emmett to laugh.

“Dork,” he responds, kissing you right after. He would probably be teasing you about how much you missed him for a while, but that might be something you could get used to.

#twilight #emmett cullen #emmett x reader #the cullens #emmett cullen x you #emmett cullen x y/n #twilight fanfiction #twilight oneshot #twilight imagine #emmett cullen fanfiction #emmett cullen imagine #emmett cullen oneshot #emmett cullen teasing you bc of course he would

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moumouton4 · 7 months

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We Just Met And This Is Crazy... || Tobirama Senju x reader

A/n : Prompt 16 of the Smutember 2023 ( This is for all my fellow friends that I know crave this pretty boy )

The list of promps is HERE

Smutember 2023 Masterlist ⚜

Warnings : no mention of gender for reader, love at the first sight, kinda exhibitionism, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 693

He never was one to be softened or coaxed by those who'd known him for years, let alone those he'd just met. In this case, how to explain the fact that he had you lying under him, on his brother’s desk as he made love to you, only an hour or so after you both just met ? Yes I said made love and not fucking, because that’s exactly what he was doing right now. His hips worked steadily on a rhythm that seemed as old as time, following every one of your cues that were proving to him that he was indeed giving you pleasure.

He too didn’t really understand why nor how you ended up in this situation. He who had originally been so difficult to approach and so high on principle was now balls deep into a complete stranger - met just a moment ago - in the Hokage's office. But damn, it felt so right though. He never knew he could make such an encounter. His gaze originally fell on you because he sensed that your chakra was different from anyone he knew in the village. It’s only after that Hashirama introduced you as a messenger from the Mizukage with a view to the possible signing of a treaty.

Not being allowed to attend the discussion, you stood in front of the large meeting room. As luck would have it, Tobirama, who was in charge of guarding the premises, stumbled upon you. And without so much as a hello, in a flurry of kisses and tongues you found yourselves up against the desk of the elder Senju, with the aim of making the passion that had just ignited between the two of you shine like a blazing fire, regardless of your respective duties.

His mouth placed gentle, increasingly hungry kisses wherever he could, careful not to leave any marks that might compromise you. When his lips returned to yours, your eyes met, silently expressing the same passion. He loved the way your body clung to his as if it could bring you what you were looking for and that he had never found until now. As you gently pulled his white locks you heard a faint and low moan escape his lips.

The desk creaked on the floor but he didn't care, you were the only thing that mattered at that moment. No words were needed at that moment, just the language of your bodies was enough to communicate to each other the pleasure felt. And then suddenly nothing, a void in both your heads for an instant as your bodies convulsed with pleasure. He wanted to pull out but strangely you tightened your grip on his waist with your legs and so he poured himself into you in long white ropes. But that seemed right too.

Your breaths caught for a moment, and as he held you in his arms he felt as if he'd known you for years. He gave you a rare small smile to match yours as you slowly untangled your limbs. As you looked at the clock on the wall, you realized that the meeting was about to end and that you'd better think about getting dressed and presenting yourself to the Hokage.

"Thank you" you said softly, even though you didn't really know why you were thanking him. Maybe you just wanted to prolong this timeless moment.

"I-it's all right" he stammered, the red rising to his face as he hurriedly got dressed.

"Y/n" you said as you prepared to leave the office, having put your clothes on first, as you both didn't want anyone to see you leaving the place together.

"Excuse me ?" he asked, his mind still clouded.

"Y/N L/N" you repeated, "If you're passing through the Land of Rain, go and see the Mizukage and ask to see me"

He nodded, still pensive. He had just made a mental note to always protect and watch over you no matter how far apart you were "Tobirama Senju. Got it"

( Hopefully he is going to open the window because Hashirama is going to notice that the smell is unusual here 😂 )

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto smut #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #naruto shippuden smut #tobirama senju #tobirama senju imagine #tobirama senju x reader #tobirama senju smut #tobirama #tobirama x reader #tobirama smut #smutember 2023 #smut #miri-writes

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idv-sunsxin3 · 4 months

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Horropedia // Dating Headcanons

Note// First Reverse: 1999 writing. A bit suggestive in some parts. This is my version of Horropedia, so if you don’t like it,,,, you might as well have to write your own because this is meant for my self-indulgence;; sowwy <//3

// preferably female s/o- gender neutral is also okay since I didn’t exactly mention a specific gender :)

As a strange autistic guy, I just imagine him to be the type of guy who probably have indirectly confessed to you earlier before you can even realize that months after- like you're just laid down on an armchair and you suddenly connected lines on the previous lines you once heard him before-

"Ah, hey! I've been waiting all my life to meet someone like you, so I had to come and say hello."

...he literally just say a simple remark with that smile as he gifted you a spirit catcher pistol- and then left....

Sometimes, you might not understand him. But you eventually asked him out on a date (in a normal way for once-).

"Oh? A date? Great! Let's go get coffee together. " :))

Little do you know, he also plans to have a ghost hunting date after that---

___

Kissing scenes in horror films? Horropedia at first felt a bit skeptical about them, finding that unnecessary... Until he got a crush on you, and then FELL for you - That's when he lowkey wondered in his autism brain... how would a kiss with you feels like?

Oh gosh, so many possibilities;;;

Horropedia would slowly realize the fact that he would unconsciously check his mouth breathing and fix his hair a bit whenever he spots you entering the room. "Who knows when that kiss scene happened cough cough -"/hj

There was a time Horropedia sneakily slipped during those ironically cute kissing scenes in a horror movie.. You may think you would just slip away from the unknown opportunity he would be searching for - But no, you wouldn't even get the peace to resume watching or have time to recover from a jumpscare that happened few minutes ago when there is this silly dork softly nibbling and smooching on your face and neck like that;;;

aaaand now you're making out with him in the middle of the movie ..

It seems there are now more reasons for him to ask you to stay over. ;)

He wants to impress you so bad ever since the moment he heard about you - You just happened to be... ordinary? But at the same time, refreshing... someone who easily connects with almost anyone.

Darn, I think you’re made for him. ☺️ (lol)

At first, he wanted to be the Mr. Mysterious and only introduced himself to you as "Horropedia. "... At some certain point after, he would bashfully let you call him "Joshua." Just don't get too cocky...-/ih

If you're just as comfortable with dark humor and other kinds of morbid stuff, there is this small scenario where you and Horropedia would roleplay a bit as to help him make up stories involving these morbid antagonists and anti-heroes...- He would be kinda a bit down bad if you say Wednesday Adams stuff technically./hj

He is not sure If he has the right to die or laugh when he gets called "Joshy"... it's cringe, but he finds your silly demeanor very cute and funny.

You happen to be a big listener when it comes to horror movies, horror stories, and horror video games- whatever horropedia rambles at you at 3 am. as if it is a nearly daily basis/ih

He loves sharing hobbies with you, even cherishing the moments when you get to do whatever activities with him that are close to his interests and what he's passionate about...

You can already tell he's not interested in anything else other than that sense of thrill he has for phenomenon or violent drama... but he'll try his best to be flexible when it comes to giving you quality time... Like crafting, cooking, maybe painting?

You might know what he will create in his own hands...- ghost cupcakes, a sculpture of Friday the 13th's killer, Michael Myers mask---

Jumpscares are out of date for him, of course, but then... he still watches those classical horror movies once in a while since they're pretty much fundamental to the art of fear.

Ironically... He does like surprise back touches! Well... As long as it doesn't have to imply his poor posture, back hugs are good to go.

He finds it pleasant to have you sit next to him or on his lap as he plays those Indie horror games(?), "mmmm... Dark deception? World of Horror? Resident Evil? The Last of Us? What about Outlast? What do you think, Babe? :))"

FNAF would be obviously a breeze for him... Bro, imagine him going crazy about fnaf lore, hahahha-

DDLC gave him mixed feelings. He is half glad his baby is not that mad crazy because of that/ih

LITTLE NIGHRMARESSSS- Man, imagine him having these silly moments with how he just concerningly reacts so happily at a kid eating a gnome who just offered a sausage oh gosh-

Watching horror movies with him would be like watching a live commentary channel as you feel a slim hand rubbing your waist throughout the movie.

You might have mixed reactions alongside him when accidentally encountering sex scenes on horror movies...- things might get awkward but he would make sure to close your eyes if you don't like to see that kind of stuff- intercourse is not the option,,,, mass arson it is/ih

I can only imagine Horropedia calling you either your name, Babe, Baby, or Boo (NOT PUN INTENDED I SWEAR FJNFNF;;) Is usually your name being called normally. Unless he is so so happy,,, or is because he just did something you probably not going to like~ 😇✨️

“Is your name Boo? Because you’re making me scream in delight.” ♥️

Oh boy-

#reverse: 1999 #horropedia x reader #horropedia #reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 x reader

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meiliarotten · 9 months

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Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Two: Electric Boogaloo

Day 7: Mechanical Intervention (Overstimulation)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Engineer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Engie keeps going to bed late in the night and decided to make sure you don’t feel neglected.

Tags: Overstimulation, inappropriate use of the Gunslinger, vibrators

Word Count: 2.7k

The Masterlist

The oversized shirt you wore to bed was far more important to you than most would think. Having once belonged to Dell, you had ‘borrowed’ it from his half of the dresser one night when you happened to forget to do your laundry. Now it was an item of comfort for you. It made you feel like he was here with you, even though the two of you had been apart for so long.

You rolled your eyes, realizing for a moment how melodramatic you were being. It wasn’t like Engie had gone off to war. In fact, he was literally under the same roof as you, just a few rooms away in his workshop. However he had been holed up in there for so many nights now, working tirelessly on his sentries and dispensers, writing calculation after calculation, all of which you had no hope of understanding. To put it frankly, you missed him.

With a sigh, you opened the door of your shared room, glancing down the hall towards the workshop. You could see the light shining from under the crack in the door, indicating that he was still hard at work. You began to walk towards that light, unsure of what your goal was exactly. It wasn’t likely, but maybe you could convince him to turn in early for once. At the very least, it would be nice to pay him a visit.

You opened the door to the workshop slowly, finding Engie sitting in a chair, hunched over some blueprints with a half disassembled sentry at his side. It was a position you had found him in many times before. It was a wonder how his back wasn’t in constant pain. You walked up behind him, not realizing how quiet you had been until you wrapped your arms around Engie’s shoulders, only for him to jump before realizing that it was just you.

“Good lord, darlin,’ don’t sneak up on me like that!” he said, holding a hand to his chest. Engie was always weary about being approached from behind, especially with how often he was the victim of spies on the battlefield. That fact had apparently slipped your mind.

“Sorry,” you sighed, nestling your face against his shoulder. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“What’s wrong?” Engie asked, noticing the twinge of sadness in your voice. “Aren’t you usually in bed by now?”

You held onto him tighter, biting your lip. Eventually, you decided not to hesitate and simply come out with it. “Come back to bed.” You could tell by the sigh you got in response that you weren’t going to get the answer you were hoping for.

“I’m sorry darlin.’ You know I have to get my work done first.”

You walked around to face Engie, giving the best damn puppy dog eyes you could muster. You weren’t too proud to beg. “Please, Dell?”

His eyes lit up at the use of his real name, softening as he reached out and pulled you close. “Oh honey, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” he asked. You nodded, letting yourself be pulled into Engie’s lap. “You sweet thing.”

He leaned in to kiss you. You eagerly reciprocated, desperate for the sensation of his lips against yours. It was more than the two of you had shared in at least a week, and you were practically starved for it. You tugged incessantly at his shirt, a silent plea for more. When you parted for breath you pressed your face into his shoulder again, muffling a needy whine.

“Now, I might not be able to come back to bed just yet, but I know the perfect way to make it up to you,” Engie said, pulling at the waistband of your pajama bottoms. You quickly stood and removed them yourself, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and a loose fitting shirt. Before you could take off anything else you were pulled back into Engie’s lap. “You look cute like that, you know?” he said. “In nothing but my shirt and your panties, just lovely.”

You blushed, but gave him a confused look. “Well, the shirt can stay, but doesn’t the underwear kinda have to come off eventually?”

“Not necessarily,” Engie said with a hint of mischievousness in his voice. His gloved hand ran up your thigh, and you let out a soft sigh. His other hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you steady and secure on his lap. Your body was already beginning to heat up as he reached your hip, caressing you gently and making you whimper. Usually such a small gesture wouldn’t get a reaction out of you, but it had been so long.

It felt like an eternity before he finally moved to run his fingers over your clothed slit. “Oh fuck,” you murmured as the fabric slowly began to dampen. You leaned your head on Engie’s shoulder, eyes rolling.

“That’s it, just relax and enjoy yourself,” Engie whispered into your ear, placing soft kisses on your jawline and trailing down to your neck. You moaned softly, unable to resist the urge to roll your hips as his fingers found your clit. How were you already so close? You must have been really pent up. “Are you close already, sweetheart?” Engie asked, seeing how you were squirming in his lap.

“I think so,” you stammered, gripping Engie’s shirt as you tried to hold back. “Fuck, it just feels so good.”

“You poor, sweet thing,” he crooned. “Laying all by your lonesome for so long. I’ll bet you haven’t even touched yourself in the past week.”

He wasn’t wrong. Most of the time you just went to sleep, hoping you would get some attention the next day. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the desire or the means to get yourself off, you just wanted to let your need build. You knew that the more it built the more rewarding it would be when Engie finally made time for you, and in a way, you were now getting exactly what you had been craving.

“How about you just go on and come for me?” he said, smirking as he circled your clit with his fingers. “I know you want to, and I wanna see it. I don’t want you to hold back.”

The idea that Engie was eager to see you come coupled with the pressure of his fingers was enough to push you over the edge. You called out his name in broken syllables, gripping onto him tightly as you rode out your orgasm.

“Ah ah, keep those pretty eyes open,” he said. You hadn't even realized you had been squeezing your eyes shut until he pointed it out. “I want you to look at me, honey.” You groaned, opening your eyes with some struggle. The look of admiration on Engie’s face immediately made the effort worth it.

You were breathless, panting as he held you in his arms. Your face was flushed down to your neck and the fabric of your underwear was slick with your release. You looked like a proper wreck, yet you couldn’t be happier, especially since Engie hadn’t stopped showering you with kisses since you came down from your high.

“So pretty,” he sighed. “I want to see more. You can come again for me, right sweetheart?”

Oh, you liked the sound of that. You gave him a nod and a breathless, “I think so.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, pressing your lips to his in a surprisingly chaste kiss. “Just be gentle. I’m still sensitive.”

“Of course. Here, let’s get these out of the way.” He pulled your underwear down your legs, letting them drop to the floor. You spread your legs wider, watching as Engie removed his glove, revealing his prosthetic hand.

The Gunslinger had always fascinated you. In fact your inquiries about that marvel of craftsmanship was what had initially drawn you and Engie together. The metal glinted in the yellow glow of the workshop’s lights, highlighting every miniscule detail.

When those mechanical fingers ran over your thigh, you were pleasantly surprised to find that they weren’t cold at all. You had no idea how, but despite being made of metal, the Gunslinger always seemed to match an average human’s body temperature. Sometimes it could even be a bit warmer, which was quite comforting if you wanted some extra heat on an especially cold night. You whimpered as his fingers dipped between your thighs, slowly pressing into you.

Engie watched your face, checking for any sign that you were uncomfortable, that it was too much. When he saw none he continued, sliding his fingers into you to the last knuckle. That earned some louder sounds from you, especially when he began thrusting his digits in and out. You were lucky that no one but Engie came to this part of the base during this time of night. Anyone who overheard you would have immediately known exactly what was going on within the workshop.

“I love those noises of yours. I wonder how loud you can get?” he mused, watching your expression melt into one of ecstasy. Then those fingers curled inside you, striking that sensitive bundle of nerves that was guaranteed to have you moaning. And you most certainly did moan, bucking against his fingers with a harsh cry. However your sounds only reached their peak when Engie paired the curling of his fingers with the stroking of his thumb over your clit.

Your thighs shook as you came again, arching back as your fingers dug into Engie’s leg. You would have fallen to the floor if it wasn’t for his free arm being wrapped firmly around you, keeping you seated safely on his lap. “God damn, that was intense,” Engie chuckled. “I must be doing a good job!”

“Don’t tease me,” you gasped, still trying to catch your breath as your orgasm subsided.

“I would never, darlin.’ But I can’t deny that you're boosting my ego a bit, and I appreciate that.” He waited for you to come down fully, your breathing evening out and your trembling beginning to subside before he continued. “Now, there was one more thing I wanted to show you, if you’re up for it. You see that button at the base of the Gunslinger?” You nodded, following his gaze and immediately spotting the red button where metal met flesh. You were pretty sure it had always been there. It never even occurred to you to ask what its purpose was. “How about you go ahead and press it,” he suggested.

That was all the temptation you needed. Nervously, you reached out and pressed the button, only to let out a startled gasp when the metal appendage started vibrating. “Holy shit,” was all you managed to say in response, making Engie laugh.

“Yeah, that was about the reaction I expected,” he said. “I’ve been working on this in my free time. It was originally gonna be a Valentine's Day gift, but I just couldn’t wait to show it off.”

You were both impressed and baffled. “Are you telling me this is what you’ve been doing in this workshop these past several nights?”

“Not entirely,” Engie said. “Like I said, it was just a pet project.”

You sighed, knowing that you were still recovering from your second orgasm. A third would be a difficult feat, but you couldn’t deny your own curiosity. Where else would you find a man who would literally program his own hand for your pleasure? Plus, you liked the idea of a challenge. “Well, how about we take this little innovation for a test drive?” you asked, giving Engie a seductive look.

He mirrored your expression. “I was hoping you would say that, sweetheart.”

Engie took everything much slower this time, only circling around your clit. Any direct stimulation would surely overwhelm you, and he didn’t want that, at least not yet. Still, you immediately started trembling, not at all prepared for the intensity of the vibrations. That’s not to say it didn’t feel quite nice though. You bit your lip, stifling any moans that tried to escape.

“Don’t start holding back on me now, honey,” Engie said the moment he noticed you were trying to keep quiet. “I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He began kissing your neck, rubbing firmer circles until your muffled whimpers turned into full on moans once again.

His fingers slipped into you, offering a whole new range of intensity as they curled and thrust against your most sensitive spots. You rocked shamelessly against his palm, forcing his fingers deeper. It was exhausting yet so immensely pleasurable. You bucked and he worked his fingers, both of you ever so gradually working towards a third orgasm.

When you finally did come it happened rather suddenly, starting as a small building of pleasure that quickly escalated until your thighs were quivering and your back was arching. The sound you made when you climaxed was more akin to a sob than a moan.

“Good girl. There’s even more where that came from,” Engie said, not even pulling his fingers out. The implication was clear.

“Dell, I don’t know if I can,” you whimpered.

“Just one more time for me, darlin’,” Engie said between soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks. “I know you can do it.” His words and his touch were paradoxically comforting and overwhelming. Still, you were effectively tempted to try, signaling your willingness with a shaky nod. Even so, you couldn’t stifle your rather harsh reaction to the feeling of the vibrations becoming stronger.

“Dell! Oh fuck!” Your body sizzled, every sensation feeling like electricity on your skin. If your mind had been clearer you would have been astounded at the effort it must have taken to add not only a vibration function to the Gunslinger, but also multiple settings for said vibrations. However your mind was anything but clear. Engie may have been speaking to you, perhaps crooning words of praise, talking about how much he enjoyed your sensitive body, or how helplessly adorable you looked when you squirmed in his lap. Whatever it was, it all faded into the background as your other senses began to take over.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure became overwhelming, almost unbearable. It was a constant barrage of touches, moans, and trembling bodies. There was barely any buildup to the fourth and final orgasm, only an unwavering sensation and a sudden, shaking, screaming climax that seemed to hit you out of nowhere, leaving your body as an over sensitive wreck, squirming and reaching for anything to ground yourself.

That thing you were reaching for ended up being Engie himself. You clutched onto him for dear life even long after the aftershocks had faded, still shaking, face red and hot from a few tears that managed to escape. “I’ve got you, darlin,’” Engie whispered, keeping you steady even as your body trembled beneath his touch. The last thing he wanted was you falling off his lap. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, your body stopped shivering and your death grip on Engie’s shoulders finally loosened, leaving you to go limp in his arms. Your tears dried and your heart rate dropped, the rush of adrenaline fading until all you were left with was blissful relaxation.

“I’m guessing that you’re more than satisfied now, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Engie asked, allowing himself a smug look once he was sure you had recovered enough. “Did I manage to make up for all the nights that I missed?”

You let out a weak laugh. “God, you definitely did. I just hope you don't expect me to go back to bed. There’s no way I’m going to be able to walk back to our room after that.”

Engie chuckled, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Of course not, honey. Just relax here.” His hand rubbed up and down your back, a soothing and welcome sensation to your still quite sensitive body. “Just close your eyes. If you fall asleep, I’ll carry you back to bed, alright?”

“And you’ll stay, right?” you asked, looking up at him hopefully. He gave you a soft smile, brushing your hair out of your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Of course darlin.’ I’ll stay.”

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #team fortress 2 #cross posted on ao3 #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #kinktober #engineer x reader #engie x reader #engineer tf2 #tf2 engie #engie tf2 #tf2 engineer

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oleander-nin · 8 months

Text

A/N, not important: So y'all picked Friday. Hopefully this won't last too long, I just need some time to get my act together. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: sick mentions, dark themes, yandere, assumed kidnapping, medicine

Words: 1052

Summary: Yandere Rottmnt when you're sick

Mikey:

The moment he realizes you’re sick, he completely 180’s and gets the most caring he can. He makes you homemade soup, fluffs up your pillows, and just tries to make you as comfortable as possible.

He knows how much being sick sucks, and as his darling, he just has to make sure you’re not in too much pain.

Makes your favorite soups and keeps a full glass of cold water by you at all times. He doesn’t want you to need something and not have it.

Will not leave your side until you’re better.

Despite you being sick, he still clings onto you. He even does it more than usual. Because of his superior immune system(due to him being a war machine and living in the sewers his whole life), Mikey isn’t worried about getting sick himself.

This leads to him cuddling you even more than before. He doesn’t want to leave you alone for even a second.

Gets super grumpy if you don’t let him take care of you. This is how he’s being helpful. He knows what to do, so he doesn’t understand why you’re being so stubborn.

Refuses to let you do anything. He practically becomes your personal servant, if not for the fact you didn’t ask for any of this.

He gets really upset when you try to deny him anything. He’s just helping you, why can’t you be more grateful.

Donnie:

He noticed the second your temperature rose. As soon as you showed the smallest symptom, he immediately went into doctor mode.

He figures out exactly what’s wrong with you. He made sure to get you your immunizations and shots when he took you, and you aren’t exposed to many pathogens or viruses while in the sterile and clean lab, so he gets really frustrated.

Even more so if the cause was because you weren’t eating or sleeping like his schedule demanded.

Donnie keeps an eye on you the entire time. He doesn’t want you to get worse.

Robs a pharmacy to get you prescription medicine if you need it. He has no problem forcing you to take it either.

Moves his work to his laptop in his room instead of being in his lab. He wants to be near you in case you need him.

Gets frustrated when you’re too stubborn to let him help. He’s not beyond strapping you down to make you eat or drink. He wants you to get better so he can go back to ‘normal’. He doesn’t like not being able to keep you by his side in the lab.

Pays more attention to you. He doesn’t let you out of his sight. Despite his ‘bad boy image’, he’s really worried. Especially since he most likely could have prevented this in some way. He’ll just be more stern next time.

Raph:

Gets really worried. He has never dealt with a human being sick before, and you’re his human, which makes it worse. You’re his responsibility, his lover. You being sick just makes him worried.

Is constantly checking with Donnie and Leo to make sure he’s doing things right by you. He won’t let them see you, of course, but he does get advice. He wants to take care of you himself.

Pretty much treats you as if you’re dying. You’re weak and fragile, this just proves it. He can’t let you try and heal without his help, you’d just shrivel up. But not on Raph’s watch.

He’s constantly bringing you your medicine. He gets upset if you don’t take it. He tries to play nice for a while, but then gives up and forces you. He can’t have you getting worse after all.

Panics at every cough and sneeze. He knows it’s something simple, but he’s still worried he might do something wrong that causes you to get worse. He couldn’t bear it if something happened to you and it was his fault.

Keeps close to you. For once, he ignores patrol and most training. He only does bicep curls in his room since he refuses to leave your side.

Gets mad at his brothers if they bother you, either on accident or on purpose. Makes his brothers text him if they need him since he doesn’t want you to wake up. Raph yells at them if they mess up. He’s stressed and fed up with them not respecting your rest.

Pretends the reason you’re fighting him is because you’re sick and not because you don’t want him around you.

Leo:

Is ecstatic now that you have to rely on him even more. You’re sick. It hurts to move, and you feel really bad. It’s the perfect opportunity for Leo to dote on you with minimal backlash.

He knows pretty quickly what’s wrong and gets the appropriate medicine. As much as he enjoys your reliance, he doesn’t want you to be sick forever. He is still worried after all. He’s just not too scared.

You have him to take care of you after all! There’s nothing to fear.

Acts very sickeningly sweet the entire time. He pretends all of your complaints are just you being delirious from the fever, or you headache messing with your thoughts.

If it persists…. He can always deal with it when you’re not in such a fragile state.

Makes you food himself. He can make pretty good soups and stews, plus, he would despise having Mikey technically be assisting. It’s his job to take care of you, and he will even if it kills him. Or some random passerby.

Actually keeps you decently comfortable. Despite being obnoxious and slightly scary the entire time, he knows what he’s doing. Your legs are propped up and a movie is almost always playing. He even lets you choose what’s playing sometimes.

Absolutely treats you like you’re unable to function. He won’t let you leave the bed unless for the bathroom. He likes babying you during this. It makes him feel more in control.

He almost makes it like a game. The more you protest the way he treats you, the worse he gets. He goes from baby talking to hourly cuddles to ‘keep morale high’.

He doesn’t care how far he has to go. He knows you’ll get better. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

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blonde-love · 11 months

Text

Rings with a promise sealed with wine…

Summary: An old friend of Larissa's visits her office, reminiscing about an old promise that unfolds in a night of love, passion, and wine.

Warnings: Smut, cunnilingus, I don’t know(?)

Parts of the story:

Rings with a promise sealed with wine… [1].

Rings with a promise sealed with wine… [2]. Soon.

Rings with a promise sealed with wine… [Extra]. Soon.

Author's Note: Hello, I'm sorry if this writing is a disaster, actually English is not my first language and this is my first fanfic, but I hope I have done a decent work… any constructive criticism is really appreciated! There is also an extra part of this that I don't know if you want to read...

The academy had changed since the last time you had visited it, although it still maintained most of its essence, there were small modifications here and there, which made sense considering the many years that had passed since then. You had evolved, so it was logical that the place would too, especially under Larissa's command now.

You sighed remembering her, wondering how she would have become too, thinking that surely she would still be that beautiful and intriguing lady with light hair and blue eyes as when she was young all those years ago...

You were a few years younger than Larissa, but you had met her at one of her speeches at the academy. She was always as upright and neat a student as she could be, so she quickly caught your eye when you saw her, just perfect. You chatted a bit when it was over, she presumably proud of her work, saying that you could do the same if you tried hard enough, so you really pushed yourself to make it through a few years later even though she wasn't around to see it…

You stood in front of the door that had her name engraved on it, looking doubtful as you raised your fist to knock, biting your bottom lip uncertainly. You finally filled yourself with so much courage as you could before knocking on the door a few times, overly nervous as a couple of seconds passed in silence that felt like eternal centuries until a voice was finally heard inside.

“Come in”. A beautiful voice called out, so you followed the lead, walking into Larissa's office, looking at her, she sitting at her desk.

You let out a longing breath when you finally looked at her; her hair tied beautifully, an almost whitish blonde, while her blue eyes moved reading the text on the paper in her hands, wearing a beautiful elegant dress...

“Good evening... To what do I owe your pleasant visit?”. She asked as she finally put the document in her hands to the side to look at you, realizing that you weren't one of her students, snapping you out of your trance, jumping slightly in place and finally closing the door behind you.

“Good evening, Ri-… Lari-… Principal Weems”. You said, regretting using that nickname or her name, too scared of how things would evolve between you after so many years.

Larissa's eyes narrowed as she heard you hesitate, being too familiar to her, not knowing exactly where she'd seen you from before. Nearly three decades was too long to remember properly.

“I... I come to visit, I don't know if you would like to see me... I...”. You started to ramble, until she interrupted you.

“I know you?”. She asked almost like a sigh that the wind would have carried away if you hadn't been so nervously attentive to her.

“Y-Yeah... I mean… yes... you might not recognize me now”. You muttered foolishly, shyly approaching her desk, swallowing hard and removing a ring from your thumb, placing it on Larissa's desk.

The older one looked at it skeptically for a few seconds, not understanding why you would leave it there until she realized that in fact the original owner of the object was her.

“[Y/n]”. She called your name under her breath, knowing who you were then, since the ring had been given to you so many years ago as the seal of a promise that both would fulfill your goals no matter what obstacles stood in the way when you consoled her to try to push aside her negative feelings about she comparing herself to Morticia.

“Yes…”.

“You… you don’t…”. She looked at you without finding the right words, getting up from her seat to approach you, placing that ring back on her index finger.

When she was close to you, you took a step back due to her imposing figure. You remembered her being tall, but not that tall, especially with the heels she normally didn't wear when she used her school uniform so long ago.

“What are you doing here?”. She finally asked, looking at you with those blue eyes that you had fallen in love with when you were in high school.

It took you a moment to answer, because you simply couldn't, with the sight of that ethereal woman in front of you, who had become the most beautiful person in the world over the years if she wasn’t before.

“[Y/n]”. She called, placing a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently and bringing you back to the ground.

“Ah… yes… That…”. You stuttered for a moment, before taking a deep breath, looking up at her burning fireplace. “The promise... remember?”.

“The promise…”. Larissa repeated almost mechanically, looking at the ring before returning her gaze to you once more…

“I came to return it… you said that was the deal when we exchanged them… that we would return them once we both met our goals…”. You remembered, looking at the hands of the taller woman.

“Oh… I-I… had forgotten…”. She confessed, and that's when you realized that she wasn't wearing any ring besides the one you just gave her, proof of her words, evidence that she hadn't considered you as you did for her during all those years.

“I…”. The words caught in your throat, feeling partially disappointed by that, taking another step back. “Yeah... sorry, that must have been a young joke...”. You shrugged, trying to downplay the importance it clearly held to you, the woman clenching her jaw as she realized you really did take it seriously.

“[Y/n], listen…”. She tried to say, but you shook your head.

“No, I understand. Still, I couldn't stay with that, it's too expensive… Anyway, I'm glad that apparently things turned out well for you, becoming the director of Nevermore is impressive”. You assured, a smile on your lips, tightening your grip on your bag.

Silence reigned in the room, discomfort running through your body, looking down at the floor after a few seconds.

“That was all... At the entrance they told me that you were a little busy, maybe I shouldn't interrupt you anymore”. You said, with the best smile you could get in that situation. “It was good to see you again, Weems”. You turned, walking in the direction of the exit before she stopped you, placing a hand on your wrist and pulling you back.

“Wait a second…”. She asked, acting on instinct more than logic, getting you to turn once more to look at her. “You… grew up…”. She muttered seeing your appearance.

That would be a logical statement, almost bordering on the absurd, but not for her at that moment, since upon seeing you more closely she realized that you had indeed changed and, just like her, you had become a woman, so beautiful in her eyes, going against the image she had of you, because when she thought of you, usually had in mind the face of a young adolescent, a little clumsy and distracted, not an attractive woman.

A small laugh escaped your lips at her, smiling genuinely at her this time. “You too”.

“Sorry... Would you like to stay and chat a bit and have some wine, perhaps?”. She proposed, tempted to touch your face for a moment before dropping her hand without even getting close enough to you.

“It would be a pleasure... if you're not too busy, of course”. You muttered, to which she smiled softly.

“I'm not”. That was a lie she hoped you wouldn't find out. “Come on, sit down”. She requested, pointing to a seat near her fireplace, walking to a cabinet until she pulled out a bottle and a couple of glasses, placing them on the table in front of the sofas.

You sat down, analyzing her movements as she served you; her hips as she walked to reach the bottle, her hands as she performed each of her actions... You ended up looking away in embarrassment. You weren't a teenager to go on with that.

“Here you have”. She said, handing you the glass of liquor, erasing her insecurities about her invitation by looking at you once more like an adult, sitting next to you before taking a small sip from her own glass.

“Thank you…”. You said shyly, your lips moving closer to the glass and drinking too.

Larissa stared at your mouth perhaps more than necessary, noticing that you were wearing some lipstick and realizing that she had never seen you use it before, when you were young you always clinging to the idea that you didn't need it.

“Mmm… the wine you drink is quite good…”. You said, savoring the taste, she blinking a few times in bewilderment, blushing as she realized she'd been staring longer than she should have.

“I have good taste. I guess you became a doctor considering the return from a few minutes ago”. She communicated, referring to the ring you had given her, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, actually for a couple of months, but it took me a while to find you… that was until I talked to Morticia. I ran into her by chance... well... not so much... her daughter broke into my work area last year's vacation to try to remove some pieces that we had preserved in formaldehyde, but those are minor details”. I narrated while remembering the incident, drinking a little more.

“Oh… Wednesday Addams…”. She muttered, placing her fingers on the bridge of her nose with a frustrated expression.

“She entered this year to study here, right?”.

“Unfortunately... It's been a disaster... Morticia must have been simply incapable of raising a decent daughter...”. She commented with annoyance, taking a longer sip of wine before pouring more for both of them.

“It's just an Addams, I guess”. You said, remembering so many things about her parents in their student days. “Maybe she inherited some of Morticia's... particular charm...”.

“I still don't understand what you saw of her when we were young”. She announced out of nowhere, quite confusing you.

“To Morticia?”. You asked in confusion, tilting your head to one side for a moment.

“Yes, you were crazy about her in high school as I remember”. That confused you even more.

“She's always had her thing, but I didn't like Morticia. When I was younger I was more into blonde girls, you know”. You commented without thinking, deeply embarrassed as you realized your own words.

“Blondes?”. She asked, to which you nodded sheepishly. Larissa had always thought you had a crush on Morticia with all your frequent visits to their bedroom, but the black-haired girl wasn't the real reason you went to the Ophelia Hall.

“Something like that... well... actually my experience with people was almost null since I was in love with the same person for many years”. You commented, laughing a little at yourself, now you being the one who poured some liquor to both of you, nervously drinking from your glass.

“Oh my… I didn't know you had a date in high school”. Larissa said impressed, moving closer to you with interest on the subject.

“I didn't, I never really told her”. You shrugged, downplaying the matter. “She was a couple of years older than me, and she probably never would have seen me as more than her... admirer to put it in a way”.

“Aw dear... What year was she in? Did I know her?”. She asked, both taking another drink, to which you nodded your head.

“She was from your generation actually… and I'm sure you knew her pretty well”. You muttered, giving a couple of faint hints, to which Larissa thought, trying to remember as many blonde girls that were her age as she could.

“Rose?” She asked and you denied, drinking some more. “Miranda?”. She suggested again, shaking your head once more and sipping your drink, following this pattern a few more times, Larissa pouring you some more liquor as she realized you'd finished it.

“I was more into… tall girls…”. You murmured softly, a soft blush on your cheeks from how little resistance you had to the alcohol and the nervous sips you were taking faster and faster.

“Tall girls…”. Larissa repeated, her mind wandering away from the answer, though somewhat closer than before.

“Yes… tall… blondes… blue-eyed… elegant…”. You said, drinking unaware of the fog that was beginning to build in your mind, placing a hand on the sofa as you leaned into her unaware. “Shapeshifter who gave speeches about the importance of introducing our society with normies”.

And that was when the realization hit Larissa like a bucket of cold water. “You…”.

“But she never realized...”. You repeated, about to take another drink when Larissa placed a hand on your wrist, drawing your attention to which you turned to her, noting the deep blush on her cheeks that reached her ears.

Of course it made sense when she thought about it, that girl's silly blushes when you were younger, how you refused to change with her at little sleepovers, how much you offered to help her no matter what she needed… the flattery, the discreet gifts…

“Oh look…”. You murmured noticing the reddish tinge on her ears, gently touching the skin with your fingers as you set the glass down on the table and approached without thinking. “They are red…”. You said innocently too close to her ear, your hot breath hitting her skin, causing a shiver to run through the older one, who placed one of her hands on your arm to stop you.

“Yeah…”. She admitted sheepishly, turning to look at you only to realize that you were both so close to each other, your ragged breaths mingling with each other.

“You smell like wine…”. You commented vaguely, to which she chuckled softly.

“You more than me, that is a fact…”. She said, realizing that your eyes rested on her lips for a moment, your hand coming down from her ear to rest against her cheek.

Larissa's heart began to beat faster, looking at your eyes as if they were the most expensive jewels in the world and then at your lips as if they were some more of that delicious drink you had been consuming during the night.

“Was it me you liked?”. She asked in the middle of the silence, to which you nodded gently.

“So much... You were so attractive, brilliant, perfect in every possible way of the word...”. You said softly, your voice somewhat hoarse. Larissa swallowed at the sound of you, that tone of voice making her feel things she never thought she would feel for you in her life.

“Do you still think so?”. She asked, almost in a low whisper, but you didn't answer, instead just sighing softly, smiling for brief moments before closing your eyes and leaning in, both lips brushing against each other in a kiss.

The older one moaned softly at the feel of your lips pressing against hers, closing her eyes and leaning in, reciprocating the show of affection, enjoying the taste of her favorite drink in your mouth, not thinking twice about receiving you when you straddled her, sitting on her thighs while she placed her hands on your waist, gently pressing you against her, she licking your lower lip, to which you opened your mouth gently, allowing her entry to savor you even more, letting out a lecherous moan as well.

After a few seconds, you both finally pulled away, gasping for air after the kiss, breathing heavily, both noticing the lipstick smudges on your lips, two different colors blending better in some places than others.

“Larissa...”. You called softly, your lips sliding down her neck like a light ghost, too intoxicated not only with the wine but with her, with her figure, her smell... her taste...

“Mmm… darling, I don't think I should have served you that last drink…”. She commented, clutching at your head and letting out an unholy moan as she felt your tongue snake around her neck.

“Perhaps, although I am glad to receive that extra courage…”. You murmured, licking her neck once more, she moaning softly, feeling your lips suck on her skin before she pulled your hair back.

“No visible hickeys, dear”. She announced, although it was already too late, since her skin now had a mark that she would have to cover later.

“Oops...”. You said with fake regret, your fingers slipping down the front of her dress, beginning to unbutton her clothing. “Perhaps I should find a more suitable place…”. Your pupils were dilated, staring longingly at Larissa's exposed breast, her red lace bra peeking out after letting go of a few buttons, your tongue beginning to lick the newly uncovered skin, leaving a hickey on one of her breasts now.

“Mmm... my dear, you are playing with fire right now, if you continue you must bear the consequences”. She warned, pressing harder into your hips.

“I'm curious to find out those consequences...”. You murmured, sucking once more on a second mark before soothing the skin with your tongue, gasping for air in a strangled moan as Larissa pressed down on you, her thigh between your legs. “Ah...!”.

You looked into Larissa's eyes, realizing that she was just as affected by the whole situation as you were, her eyes full of desire, leaning over your neck to begin to leave open-mouthed kisses on your skin.

“Do you really want that, naughty girl?”. She asked in your ear, watching you sway your hips against her thigh, nodding a couple of times at her question. “You really are quite a case…”.

“Rissa... please...”. There was that pretty nickname, coming out of your lips in a desperate way, too eager to feel it and to alleviate that pain that had been building between your legs for a while. The blonde hummed content to hear you, her hand sliding to the back of your dress to unzip it, letting it fall over your waist, exposing your black bra, she smiling to see you exposed like that, caressing your chest.

“Come, help me with this…”. She requested, to which you stood up for a moment to let your dress fall all the way around your feet, also exposing the matching panties, Larissa biting her lower lip at the sight of you.

Just as pretty as you were, Larissa taking no more time to grab your thighs and pull you up, her carrying you easily enough, devouring your lips once more with hunger, her tongue dipping in as if it had been done thousands of times before, your two bodies fitting in perfectly as she led you to her bedroom.

She released her lips only when she dropped you onto the bed, pulling away to lock the door before turning back to you, slipping out of her dress and heels.

You took a quick note from her room, obviously as elegant as her, but you had better business that mattered more to you right now, spreading your legs in a silent invitation to the woman who looked at you before stepping between them, her lips on yours for a few more seconds before caressing your thighs, pulling you apart with a moan when her fingers got too close to your center.

“[Y/n]”. She called to you softly, caressing the same place as before, causing another chill. “Do you really want this?”. She asked, though neither of you was exactly in the best state of lucidity, but she wanted confirmation of your consent anyway. She would never do anything you didn't want.

“Yes Rissa... do you want it?”. You asked, she kissing you softly on the lips before answering.

“Of course…”. She murmured, sliding her hand up your chest, you sitting up for a moment to undo your bra, letting your breasts fall for her to look at, Larissa letting out a breath as she looked at your nipples. They were hard, desperate for attention as much as the rest of your body, so it didn't take long for her to connect her mouth over one of them, licking the bud before sucking, leaving you with a pleasurable sensation and a moan, your hands on her back unclasping her bra too, she pulling away for a moment to take it off and toss it to any side of the room, letting your curious fingers touch her too, moaning when you pinched one of her nipples just the way you liked it.

But you both really needed more than that, so Larissa lowered her hand slowly over your body, running her fingers over your nipple, stroking gently before moving down your stomach, sucking gently on your neck, while letting your hands one on her head and another on her white sheets, she finally brushing her fingers over your clothed pussy.

“Look how wet it is here dear…”. She murmured running her fingers once more, drawing a pleasurable moan from you as she pressed more firmly on the bulge of your clit.

“Larissa… please…”. You begged softly, lifting your hips for more friction. You really needed her, more of her, all of her, but the woman placed her hand on your hip, anchoring you to the bed.

“Please what, dear?”. She asked, pretending she doesn’t knew what you wanted.

“Please Rissa… fuck me…”. You stretch your legs closer to her, pushing aside your panties to give her a glimpse of your bare pussy, completely wet from her. “Don't make me wait any longer after all these years… please…”. You begged again, a tender smile on the woman's lips as she leaned into you.

“Sure dear, I'm sorry”. She murmured against your ear, playing for a moment with the elastic of the only clothes you were wearing. “Would you let me take this off?”. She asked, to which you nodded almost desperately, the woman laughing softly as she removed your panties... “Impatient, aren't we?”.

A shiver ran through your body when the cold air from her room came into contact with the humidity of your pussy, that part contracting, Larissa licking her lips when she saw that.

“Just look at this, how precious…”. She said as if she were looking at the best piece of art in any most famous museum you could think of, running her fingers over the liquid to collect a bit, looking at her wet finger and licking it as she looked into your eyes, drawing you a moan of anticipation as you watched her take it clean out of her mouth.

“Rissa oh my god...”. You said, closing your eyes when she again slid her finger over that sensitive part of your anatomy, rising above you to admire your entire body in full nakedness.

“You have really become a divine woman my love… my good girl…”. That, that was the fucking nickname that she had used with you all through high school and that had made you feel so many things with your raging hormones.

“Rissa...”. You stifled a moan and arched as she began to insert one of her fingers into you. You had noticed that they were long, quite graceful and beautiful, their perfect touch on you, though they certainly felt even better on the inside.

“Tell me [Y/n] Who does this good girl belong to, hmm? Who has she stood for these years to get her pussy full?”. She asked, finally reaching to the knuckle, gently pulling her finger in and out to gently dilate you, the bottom of her palm crashing against your clit each time, resulting in a shiver from you with moans each time.

“To you Larissa... ah... for you... everything for you...”. You moaned, clinging to her shoulders as you trembled under her touch, being so wet it didn't take much to slip a second finger inside.

“That's right, precious… good girl…”. She fawned as she began to curl her fingers inside you, bumping into a spongy area inside you that made you arch, her other hand placing her thumb on your clit to trace circles over the swollen bud, a bit of her ego seeping in as she traced her name with her finger on your bud, smiling as your pussy finally contracted for her.

“Ah… ah… Rissa… that feels good…”. You moaned, your legs shaking sweetly for her, arching at the pleasurable sensations.

“Your pretty pussy is happy to have my fingers in it…”. She said, dropping to her knees on the ground. “I bet it will feel even better with my tongue too…”.

“Wha-? Oh my-!”. You moaned in an exceedingly indecent way as the texture of her tongue flattened against your clit, her fingers continuing inside you, your legs instinctively closing around her head, but she placed one of her hands on one of your thighs to prevent that.

“Nothing like that my dear, I don't want to have to honor the firm principal they say I am by having to punish you... so spread your legs for me...”. She ask before plunging back into your pussy, you helping her grip with one hand on your thigh to pull the leg she wasn't holding against your own chest, just as she requested, opening you wider for her.

Deeper moans began to come out as Larissa's attentions increased, the inside beginning to clench in certain patterns more quickly, your free hand on Larissa's head…

“Rissa…! Oh god… I'm going to…”. You were breathing more and more heavily, requiring all your effort to formulate a fairly congruent sentence.

“You're close, aren't you? Come on darling, drop it for me”. She said, requiring a few more thrusts with her fingers and tongue before you collapsed, bucking and moaning her name aloud as your orgasm crashed into you, Larissa carefully pulling her fingers out.

“Fuck…”. You moaned at the sense of loss, shaken and gasping from your climax, watching the woman lick her fingers just like she had at the start.

“Very well done my dear...”. She murmured, getting up from the ground, to which you sat up, intertwining your fingers with hers.

“It's your turn…”. You looked at that woman's soaked panties. “Lie down on the bed…”. You asked softly and the woman nodded, following your instructions. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw her, her bare breasts resting on top of her, her panties drenched only for you and her head rested on the pillow, her hair a mess, golden curls falling carelessly over her shoulders. “God… you are simply more beautiful than when we studied here…”. You breathed, spreading kisses down her bare chest.

“Is that so?”. She asked incredulously. “I'm…grateful to hear it darling, but I'm afraid time hasn't been kind to me”. She muttered, to which you chuckled softly.

“Oh dear, I assure you that it is so... you are like one of those wines that you like so much...”. You murmured, lowering yourself between her legs. “Simply more delicious with the passing of the years…”. You whispered against her pussy, your tongue tasting the smear of liquid on her red underwear, eliciting a strangled moan from the woman.

“Ngh… then you should drink me, dear…”. She said suggestively, so you took the liberty of sliding her panties down her legs, leaving little kisses on her thighs.

“Can I bite here?”. You asked, planting a kiss on one of her thighs not quite sure if her skirts or dresses would fully cover it.

“O-Of course…”. She gasped when she felt your teeth against her porcelain skin, letting her head fall back against the pillows, her pussy twitching happily before your eyes, a sign that she'd liked it.

“If you knew the times I had wet dreams about you in high school…”. Your tongue getting closer to where she needed you.

“Wet dreams?”. She asked breathlessly, your tongue sliding around her entrance, parting her lips with your fingers to expose her even more, her clit twitching as if greeting you impatiently.

“Yeah… or the sinful thoughts in your school speeches… how much I thought about fucking you in front of everyone and then berated myself for having such thoughts about you…”. You said, hot breath hitting her wetness.

“That- Ah!”. A moan escaped her lips as you thrust your tongue inside, your nose pressing against her nerve cluster on purpose, watching her close her eyes and lean back against the pillows once more.

Sure enough, you drank her like a fine wine, savoring her delicious flavor on your taste buds with each lick you took, occasionally interspersing your fingers when you decided you wanted to leave more hickeys down her thighs so she could see them when she took that perfect director facade off after a tiring day at work, and hopefully you too would be there to see them and maybe do more.

Larissa's moans were simply music to your ears, a lusty harmony that filled the room as did the wet sounds of your mouth, her leg hooking over your shoulder to press you closer to her core.

“Ah… [Y/n]”. And when you looked up, oh my god that damn view.

You were between her legs slurping her tastefully with her thighs decorated with your passion marks, but that wasn't all, as the woman placed her hands on her own chest, kneading and pinching her nipples while her mouth was open, panting and moaning meaninglessly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes more black than blue at that point, her hair already completely out of place falling freely, the eldest trying not to miss the sight of you devouring her, getting her eyes to roll back with pleasure from time to time.

“I'm going to cum… ah… darling…!”. She warned, to which you smiled softly, slamming three of your fingers in to rub her sweet spot as you sucked on her clit, watching her arch fully, moaning gutturally as her head sank back into the pillows.

The principal ended up panting, just like you a few moments before, so you lay down next to her with the same exhaustion as her, trying to compose yourself, seeing her turn on her back to look for something in her dresser next to her, thinking it was your signal to go.

You were about to sit on the edge of the bed when you felt her hand catch your wrist.

“Mmm… Stay… if you don't have something to do…”. She asked sweetly, so you smiled, laying back down, this time her pulling you to her chest she caressing your back gently, her hand clenched into a fist with something inside.

“Larissa?”.

“Um... I really hope there isn't someone else waiting for you at home if you know what I mean...”. She said hopefully, realizing that she hadn't asked about it before doing it with you.

“Of course not... and I hope it's the same for Larissa Weems...”. You whispered, planting a kiss on her cheek, hearing her laugh softly.

“No… although I would like there to be… a woman a couple of years younger than me… doctor… with your eye and hair color… by name [Y/n] I don't know if you find a suitable candidate…”. Now it was you who laughed.

“I think I know someone very interested in the proposal…”. You murmured, both leaning in for a kiss, this time without raw and pure lust, but something more chaste, with the same immense love and appreciation that you had for each other after so long.

“Here…”. She whispered, opening her palm and showing the two rings you had exchanged, hers that you gave her when you arrived and yours that she had put on her dresser some time ago.

The difference between the two was clear, a gold one with expensive jewels and a cheaper one but quite beautiful. You thought she would hand you the second of those, being the one that originally belonged to you, but instead she placed on your thumb her ring, placing a kiss on the object on your finger afterwards.

“A new promise, which I swear to always keep in mind…”. Explained. “Staying together, so that we both get to know each other again, to have more nights like these and days that we can enjoy”.

“Mmm... seems like a good promise to me”. You whispered, placing your ring on her little finger as you both intertwined your fingers gently.

A pair of beautiful rings that sealed a promise in a night of love, passion and wine...

“Would you like to go to Jerico for a coffee tomorrow?”. She asked softly, her voice sleepy as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“A date?” You questioned and she agreed. “I'd love to…”. You said, being equally tempted for Morpheus to take you to the world of dreams.

“Good night, my good girl”.

“Good night Rissa...”.

#larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa x y/n #larissa weems x reader #fanfic #smut #weems

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natty-taffy · 2 months

Text

the handmaiden - [natasha x reader]

Interactive fanfiction

series masterlist

Summary: Natasha is not exactly keen on the fact that Wanda has erased your memories

Previously, on this path: Chapter I.I.I.0

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ CHAPTER I.I.I.0.I

“Dear God” Wanda whispers to herself as she stares at you flabbergasted, praying that you were just being a little shit and pranking her, she will be so so fucked otherwise.

“I asked you two questions” You raise your voice slightly to try to hide the tremble in it. You’re sure this woman is not the one behind the Romanov attack, since she looks on the verge of tears- was she not expecting you to wake up? In fact, why is she so close to you?

As she draws in a shaky breath, you use this time to take a look around the room you’re in, trying to make a way out- you had never seen a room so geometric before- every surface is made of perfectly straight lines, and there is too much gray, white, and glass for you to consider comfortable. There are objects you’re not sure of what to do with- portraits, perhaps? Maybe a dark-tinted mirror, it doesn’t feel like a room someone would willingly live in.

Wanda, on the other hand, is freaking out for very different reasons- your guarded posture and rapid gaze are more than enough proof- besides your forlorn eyes- that she has royally fucked up. She should have never pushed your mind for more- she had promised you she would be careful, even after warning you of the consequences, she should have never agreed.

Even worse than having your entire recent memory erased is what Natasha is going to do to her, once she finds out- and, unfortunately to Wanda, she, herself, is somewhat of an ethical person and knows that it’s the best path to follow, for both your and Natasha’s side.

“[Y/N], get up” Her strong, heavily accented, and fearful voice gains your attention. Huh, you also realize that the both of you, for some reason, are not speaking Russian, but English- a language you have been taught by Anastasia.

God, and where is Anastasia? You start to grow antsy as the woman shows no intentions of answering your questions- if she won’t listen nor answer you, why are you even here?

“I will not do anything until you tell me-” Your voice is strong, focused, and you are on the path of threatening her before she cuts you off- for a small ego matter, you thank her for it, given that you didn’t have anything to threaten her with, in the first place.

“I’m taking you to her , Christ” Her distressed voice makes you stand up and get ready to follow her, afraid she could change her mind- you’re still very much confused as to your surroundings and the circumstances of it- so you just agree when she tells you “Let me handle her first, please keep quiet”

You pretend you don’t flinch when her doors are opened without the use of the doorknob, nor that your eyes don’t immediately burn with the strength of the lightness that the corridors of this place bear- stronger and unnatural in a way that you can’t understand. Is it possible that you might have ended up in a military facility? That is the only answer you can fathom to create when snaking after the woman for the endless hallways- all covered in some sort of metal, cold, straight-lined, symmetrically built as the room you were once in.

A small spot of fear starts to stain your thoughts- is she even really taking you to Natty? Can you trust her? If you don’t, is it even worth it to try to run? is there a way out of this place? Maybe if you had counted how many turns, if they were to the left or right-

You bump against the woman as she abruptly comes to a stop- there is a door, just as the room you had just left did, and you know- because you feel Anastasia’s heartbeat against the door, rather than because you believe in the redhead in front of you- she is behind it. The uneasy feeling that has been hunting your peace, and rushing through your veins finally eases enough for you to take a calmer breath.

“Remember, let me talk to her first, okay?” The woman whispers at you, she now looks as if she’s about to burst into nervousness- you swear you could almost see her eyes changing colors- but her smile is still trying to appear calm- you can’t help but wonder if is she in any danger “Things are not the same since you’ve last seen each other, much has changed”

At this, you take a step back, trying to gather what it could possibly mean- how long has it been since you’ve last seen each other? For how long have you been kept here? Why are you both here? Does she know Anastasia, too? What could have possibly changed?

The one spot of worry grows considerably larger as a looming possibility crowds your mind, dark and heavy as a tempestuous cloud- suddenly much of her behavior makes more sense, could she be, now, close to Natty as you once were? Is this why she has to be the one to talk while you stand in the background?

She finally knocks on the door- the both of you hold your breaths in apprehension and fear, for very different reasons. The answer doesn’t arrive immediately, but you can both tell she is here.

“Yes?” Says the voice you would recognize in every single universe- you release a deep breath, oh, she truly is here, and how you are enamored of it!-, but that holds such an unfamiliar undertone- something has, indeed , changed- she sounds somewhat bitter, guarded, shielded in a way she has never before.

You try not to focus on the fact that she sounds older, too, that’s not a thing you would like to think about, right now.

“Tasha?” The woman asks and you can almost feel a dagger being aimed, pushed, and twisted into your chest- her tone carries so much vulnerability, her nickname carries a history that you do not know of- you once knew and shared everything with Natty.

The door doesn’t take long to be opened after this- in fact, she was almost yanked as Anastasia stands behind it, stepping outside to immediately take a careful hold on the woman’s wrist- that is, until she stops on her track, after catching sight of you.

You try not to blink as all the blood from your body turns into tears under your eyes- she is older, she looks exactly as you had always imagined- a sight to be beckoned, to be reverenced, to be worshipped- you can even see a touch or two of her mother, not that you would ever mention it, as tyrant as that woman could be, you were not blind.

“What is it?” She, almost hastily, asks the woman, but keeps you in her peripheral vision- something she has been doing ever since you can remember- but she usually wouldn’t ignore you, nor pretend to, as she is now “Wanda?”

“Nat, I-” The woman- Wanda, apparently- takes a step back, staying away from Natty’s reach “I am so sorry, I really fucked up”

You both frown at her behavior- Natasha, because she was still as blind to what had happened and as to why you, of all people, are standing in front of her door, behind a hysterical Wanda, and you, because, well , you don’t really have to explain it, do you?

“Wanda?” She eyes the woman carefully, taking a step back herself, trying to calm the woman down, before- finally - turning at you, with some urgency “What- are you okay?” You don’t know what exactly has changed, but there is no way you could ever meet her eyes and not swoon under its gaze, there is just so much you have read in it to not completely melt in the spot.

“I am, Natty- are you? What happened? Can you please- do you know- no, firstly, did we have a fight?” You immediately bite your cheeks at the very same second you close your mouth- you really should have rehearsed something.

Her eyes are staring back at you with a mix of fear, hope, and love- there has always been love here, for you-, you don’t know what to make of it, so you stay put, assuming you probably are bearing a similar mix, you hope someone actually says something concrete, soon.

“What?” She whispers, it sounds wet, defeated and somehow enlightened- she sounds like she has come out of a dream, in a very realistic sense, she doesn’t sound very grounded “[Y/N], have you-”

Wanda opens her mouth before you can utter another sound- and she doesn’t stop “I got into her mind- she pleaded with me to do it, I know I shouldn’t have- I am so sorry, Natasha, I think I went too far and now… she has no memory, again-”

Her voice disappears as the words start to sink in for the older woman, who now bears a look you have never seen before- Anastasia could have never done something like this, to burn someone so easily with a glare icier than snow itself.

You watch quietly as Wanda scurries to finish her next set of confusing words, glaringly afraid of the woman you have always loved you so “Well, no memory but of you, of the, um, before ”

Anastasia blinks once and turns at you, eyeing you as curiously as a cat, she has always been very much cat-like, you ponder with a small smile- fear still floods her eyes and now love has given space to longing. Her beautiful face looks as if you are but a fragment of her dreams, too scared to move a wrong muscle and lose you.

“[Y/N], dear, what’s my name?” Her voice is guarded, under what sounds like a thousand armors, but still sweet as has always been.

You can’t even frown at the question nor register the words Wanda has said, because of the blinding smile that takes over your face- she still holds you close to her heart, her eyes can never lie, not to you “For me it’s always been Natty, Anastasia for the others- and, I guess, Natasha for her”

Natasha has always prided herself on managing to remain impassive under any type of circumstance, no matter how gruesome or unthinkable it could get, she knew how to wear her armor very well. The one thing her heart couldn’t conceal with her mask, however, was when matters came to you- not, in a hundred years of grieving, her heart could get used to not having your smile by her side.

“Oh” When a heavy tear makes its way to Natasha’s chin, and her voice can’t seem to find the right path to her throat, Wanda knows she has messed with a very dangerous thing. You, however, don’t seem to mind as much, having seen Anastasia cry a handful of times- she has the most sensitive soul.

“Please” Anastasia’s voice, weak as your knees have been ever since you have cast your eyes on her, fill the hallway with its strength “Let me hug you, kotenok ”

You don’t have to be told twice- although there is something different about her, although there is definitely a lot you seem to have missed, although she seems like a completely different person to the girl you once knew, there is not an inch in your body that could be able to deny her such thing- she is your home, after all.

You curtly step away from Wanda so you can finally, finally , meet the warmth of Natty’s body again- you weren’t expecting to feel so whole, so beautifully you , after being enveloped by her surprisingly strong arms. Something in your soul finally seems to be complete, grounded on Earth in the way you were meant to be.

Natasha, on the other hand, feels the planets aligning with her heart, she feels the world finally taking a breath, she is one with the universe once again. Having your body in her arms once more has been nothing but a dream for so long, she doesn’t think she is able to understand all of the emotions breaking every surface of the armor she has built for so long.

“Dove, I-” She starts, but can’t really make sense of anything, she just needs to talk to you, feel you, look at you- to finally keep you safe, after so many years of her having done so, for her.

That’s exactly why her eyes find Wanda’s, still a few steps away from the two of you, looking as out of place and regretful as she felt. She doesn’t hate Wanda, she never will, but the witch has broken the one promise she has ever made, with none other than you , of all people- she can’t help it if, right now, all she sees is red, so dark it could almost be black.

“Wanda” Her voice, alien to your years, makes the witch face her once more “I don’t want you near me, us- her ”

Wanda is not surprised by her words, nor by her tone, but, of course, it doesn’t make it any easier- she was expecting it, almost praying for the woman to berate her- because, at least, she wasn’t angry to the point of start ignoring her. Gloom settles into the witch as a well-known friend, she knows it’s her fault, but she can’t believe she has lost two of her best friends in spite of a day.

“Yes” She all but hums under Natasha’s gaze- and, before she makes any motion to leave, she defends herself- futilely, she knows-, one more time “I am so sorry, I was just trying to help”

Natasha knows this, but it’s still not enough- you could have been seriously injured and Wanda, of all people, should have thought about it before trying to do what you asked for- it is hard, but that’s exactly what she has been doing for so long, to keep you safe- Wanda almost put it all to lose “You promised you would never do it again”

“I know” Because, against Natasha’s judgment, Wanda did know, but the fate of not knowing your past was almost as bad as this aftercome, she just had to try to help you.

She is almost turning the corner of the hallway- a little bit in a hurry, eager to just take a shower and let her tears be the guide of her decisions for the rest of the day, oh how she wishes she could call you to her room and just tell you everything, so you would make her laugh and distract her from everything until the world no longer hurt. How she already misses her best friend.

“Wanda?” Natasha’s voice calls her once more.

She turns back at her almost too quickly, almost too eagerly, almost allowing a small smile in answer.

“Find Bruce” Natasha asks, not without coldness under her words “You need to find a way to fix this”

Wanda nods- she doesn’t wear forlorn eyes anymore, now, they are determined, fierce- she will find a way to fix this, she has to- for you, for Natasha, for her forgiveness. She sends you one last smile before her small, decided, steps are lost somewhere in the maze of hallways you came from.

It’s when you’re finally alone, that you find the courage to untangle yourself from Anatasia and whisper, still unsure about the environment you have found yourself in “What is happening, Natty? I am so lost” You confide to her, watching as her attentive eyes drink from every word you say- you can’t lose another second before you whisper one of the phrases you have told her the most “You are so beautiful”

Her blush, one of her most given answers, is accompanied by the most beautiful smile there can ever be “Oh, darling owner of my heart” She whispers back at you, opening the door she has come from, not long ago and tugging your hand softly “Come in, I shall tell you everything”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Final paths coming soon!

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x y/n #interactive fanfic #natasha x you #natasha imagines #nattytaffyarchive

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hello, I hope your doing ok! And I love your work with writing. Hopefully your in a good mental health right now cause I got a Agnst request!

So the reader and clone of your choice, have been together for a while and she or he introduces them to there parents. The parents don’t approve because they are clone racist! And would rather her or him be with someone nat born. How would clones react to that?

(Also if you wanna go for the headshot and really spice it up, the reader is pregnant. That gonna be a real messy one! P.s this is for when every you feel like it or get the time. I understand writing is just a hobby and some people can be rude. So when ever you get time or you just don’t wanna do it. That’s cool to. P.s.s I’m still support your blog weather my request gets answered or not. You’re awesome writer!)

Aloha!

Still breathing! Thanks for asking :)) Hope you are doing great!

Oh, that's an interesting idea, one I can actually imagine would be true for some people if it was reality... Let me try my take on this one. I hope you don't mind me leaving out the pregnant part, though, I'd like to focus on the 'racism' part itself.

The Bad Batch x Fem!Reader HCs - The Worth Of A Clone

Warnings: Angst/Tension/ uhm, Clonecism? (racism)

_____________

Meeting your parents for the first time is excitement enough for your batcher, the whole thing takes a nasty turn when it turns out that your family doesn't have a good opinion of clones, especially when it comes to courting you.

AC:

Keep in mind that I am writing this from my point of view, how I would imagine the situation, and also how I might react. I cannot guess how others would react. Well, I could, but then I would have to have at least ten versions.

_____________

Initial situation (For everyone but Echo): Your batcher and you are invited to dinner at your parents' house. Your parents finally want to meet the man in your life. When asked what your beloved does for a living, soldier for the republic army, the first reaction is restrained but quite sympathetic. When your father makes the joking, casual remark, "At least you're not one of those clones," disaster takes its course.

Hunter

He takes a breath, collects himself, he already feels that the truth will not make him any friends here, but he does not intend to lie.

"I am a clone, not exactly like the others, but I am created in the same way and do more or less the same job".

The looks he earns are at first puzzled and incredulous. Your parents scrutinize him.

Your mother says quietly to your father, "I didn't know there were different ones, he doesn't look like the others".

Your father frowns critically, it takes a while until he finally says something again.

"I can not tolerate this connection, and I certainly can not support it".

The words sound rough and harsh. He seems annoyed, as if you and Hunter had deliberately tried to deceive him.

"With all due respect, your daughter is an adult, we don't need your permission. We're here out of respect and decency."

"Decency," echoes your mother, "How can someone like you talk about decency, you're not even a real person."

Shocked and deeply disappointed, you want to retreat with Hunter. Your parents give you a choice, "Family or clone".

The decision is easy thanks to their disrespectful attitude.

"I'm going with Hunter"

Hunter feels touched, hurt and guilty at the same time. He is overjoyed that you stand by him, despite everything, but he feels guilty because you break with your family because of him.

Echo

From the start, your parents react very dismissively and Echo feels very insecure. He wants to be polite, because after all they are your parents, actually he had hoped to make a good impression. However, he realizes very quickly that clones are not very welcome here, and the fact that he is not even an 'intact' clone anymore makes things even worse.

"A clone, a broken clone, half a droid," your father growls to himself, not even having the decency to address Echo directly.

Your mother stands in the background, not giving Echo a second glance, a steep, stern crease between her brows. When she finally speaks, she sounds reproachful and disappointed.

"How can you do this to us, bringing this thing here?"

Echo says calmly, "I'm not a thing. A clone I am by all means, yes, but a human being nonetheless."

Your father points disparagingly at his prosthetics, "That one doesn't look human."

Echo sighs, he feels anger, but mostly a heavy disappointment and pain over this situation.

"Yes, I lost a few limbs fighting for the Republic. Other soldiers are decorated for that"

"Because they're real human beings," your father rumbles.

"Echo is a real human being!" you exclaim angrily.

It quickly becomes clear that the evening is over. You retreat. You are so sorry for the way things have gone, for the things Echo has had to listen to.

Sitting alone with you in your apartment, Echo says after a while of silence, "They're not wrong about one thing, you deserve better".

When you try to contradict him, he says, "Cyare, I know I'm a good soldier, I'm a real person, whether I'm a clone or half a droid. Still, you deserve better."

You hug him warmly, kiss him and say, "There is nothing and no one I love more, you are wonderful Echo, the best thing that has ever happened to me. What we both have, I will never give up, no matter what anyone else says".

Wrecker

At first, your parents are thrilled with the friendly giant. Especially your father seems pleased with your choice, "A soldier and what a soldier, look at this guy, I don't have to worry if my daughter is protected," he says enthusiastically and shakes Wrecker's hand with pleasure.

Wrecker smiles, very happy to have made a good first impression.

The mood shifts drastically, however, when it is revealed over the course of the evening that Wrecker is a clone soldier, obviously not a regular one, but a clone soldier nonetheless.

Your father sighs and says, "I'm sorry, but I can't condone that."

Wrecker asks in surprise, "Why not? Did I say something wrong? I assure you, I respect your daughter and love her very much."

"That's not the problem, it's more what you are" your mother says.

Wrecker looks at you questioningly, he can tell your heart is sinking right now, you already seem to know where this is going.

"I'm human," he says calmly.

"You're a clone, a copy of a human," your mother says somewhat snidely.

Wrecker blinks, then sighs. He's had this reaction before, only here, and now he didn't really expect it. Somehow he had hoped, or expected, that your family would think like you and be just as wonderful people.

After this evening, Wrecker is very unsettled, but he still behaves calmly. He is afraid that you will end the relationship. His pleased, relieved face when you make it clear to him that you will not be influenced by your parents' opinion is priceless.

He pulls you into his arms and cuddles tenderly with you all evening, incredibly happy that he can be so close to you.

Tech

"That would explain why he talks so pompously, like a droid. He's not a real person at all."

Tech raises his eyebrows in shock. He's used to hostility towards his heritage, but he didn't expect this, sitting at a table with you and your parents.

"Mother!" you exclaim, startled and annoyed.

"It's true, isn't it?" your father says, making a throwaway hand gesture.

Your gaze bounces back and forth between Tech and your parents. You feel ashamed of their behavior and the expression on Tech's face pains you, he looks genuinely surprised and hurt.

Tech clears his throat and says, "I guess I should go, I'm obviously not welcome here."

"We agree on that," your father says.

Tech swallows the comment that's on the tip of his tongue and stands up, still politely indicating a bow as he departs. You grab your jacket and hurriedly follow him, against your parents' calls for you to stay.

Tech looks at you in surprise as you catch up to him and reach for his hand.

"Mesh'la?"

"You didn't think I was just going to let you walk away from me because my parents had a stick up their ass, did you?"

He blinks, then smiles gently.

"I'm honored, my dear, but I don't want you to fight with your family because of me."

You stand on the tips of your toes, and he leans toward you. Gently kissing his cheek, you say, "My beloved, I don't care what they think. Admittedly, I would have been very happy if they had accepted you, but the fact that they don't, doesn't change my feelings for you. I won't turn my back on you".

Crosshair

"At least you're not one of those clones"

Crosshair's gaze moves from your father to you and back again, slowly, with what you realize is a suppressed sigh.

"Well, I'm no ordinary clone, a special version if you will, but a clone nonetheless".

"Can you clones feel anything at all. Can you even love?", asks your mother.

Crosshair says dryly, "I can only speak for myself. Theoretically we are all capable of emotion, I just like it in small doses, however with your daughter I make an exception"

Your parents are not very enthusiastic, neither about him as a clone nor about his dry humor. Crosshair faces a well-known hostility.

The mood is tense, but Crosshair is not the sort to put up with this nonsense. He stands up and says sharply, "The clones are the reason we can sit here at dinner tonight and not be under Separatist rule. But keep being condescending and ignorant, that seems to have gotten you a long way in life."

You also hastily get up, leaving your perplexed parents in the dining room. You follow Crosshair out, hastily quickening your steps to keep up with the strides of his long legs.

"Wait, Crosshair, don't run like that."

He stops, turns around and raises his brows.

"I'm not running, your legs are just too short" he says teasingly, finally smiling at you.

"I'm sorry-"

He raises his hand to interrupt you.

"It's okay, I'm used to this kind of behavior. I was hoping your family would be different, but I'm not exactly shocked that they're not."

He strokes your cheek and says, "It's okay, I don't blame you."

"I don't care what they say or want, I still want to be with you."

He smirks and says, "Of course you do, Kitten"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@taskfork-archive

@cpnt616

@starwarsnerd111

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mc-lukanette · 1 year

Text

Luka groaned into his pillow as his phone started to ring. Most rock stars would probably be up by now, but Luka was not one of them. He appreciated the sound of nighttime but not quite that much.

Blindly reaching for his phone, his fingers came across the familiar shape and tightened around it. He managed to just barely lift his face from the pillow so his voice wouldn’t be muffled, then tapped the 'accept call' button and brought the phone to his ear.

"H'llo?" he mumbled.

"Luka?" the female voice on the other end called in reply. "Wha—were you napping?"

"'M in America," he responded, only semi-coherent at the moment.

"Huh? Then—wait, I woke you up!" the voice panicked. "I'm so sorry! I wanted to call to see how you were doing, but I didn't realize that you'd be in another timezone! This is a disaster, I should go, I—!"

Something clicked in his head, triggering him more awake as he registered the familiar way of rambling. "Marinette?"

She stopped, confused even as she confirmed, "...Y-yes?"

His body protested, but he pressed his hand into the mattress to push himself up. "It's alright. I'm up now anyway, and I always have time to talk to you."

"Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

He pulled the phone away, staring at the giant 2 AM on-screen in big white letters. Throwing care to the wind, he threw the covers off of himself and got up out of the bed, assuring, "Let me just get something to drink."

"Oh... okay, I'll wait."

She stayed on the call as he headed into the kitchen to start up the coffee machine. It was a minute after the fact when he realized that it wasn't fast enough, so he opted for a glass of cold water instead, hoping that it might hold him over until the coffee was brewed.

"Marinette?" he called into the phone, checking if she’d hung up or not.

"Mm?"

"Okay, I'm not dreaming then. I had to make sure." He was only half-joking.

She giggled. "Yeah, I’m here. Still, I feel a little bad. If I knew it was so early for you..."

"Don't worry about it, really. It's just—it's been so long. I'm happy to hear your voice again." He paused, considering, "Sorry, is that weird to sa—"

"No, not at all! I mean, if it's weird, then at least I'm also weird? Because I'm happy too!" She took a breath to calm herself down. "It's... nice to be on the same page. I don't really have anyone else like that."

He almost blurted out 'what about Adrien' but bit his tongue to stop himself. He knew better than to so randomly bring up Marinette's husband at a time like this, as well as question what she says. He could understand and acknowledge the idea that she could have a stronger wavelength with someone she was friends with rather than her spouse.

"Me neither," he admitted, leaning against the counter and pulling the phone away briefly to hide his yawn from her. "So, how have you been?"

"Better than I have been in a long time, but I'm still tired. I only just got a moment to call you after all the chaos settled down." She sighed, but he could tell that she was smiling. "What about you? How has music been?"

He chuckled. It was adorable that she referred to "music" as if it was a good friend of his. "Do you mean the tour?"

"Not exactly? Just—" She whined. "Never mind. It's a silly question."

"No, please. Go on," he urged gently. He really wanted to know.

He could almost sense the pout on her face.

"I guess... is it still as important to you as it was before? You used to play music for the sake of music, but now it's your job. It—it's not like I'm doubting your choices or anything, of course! I just... I worry about you."

That coffee really needed to get done. He wasn't awake enough for this.

Face flushed pink, he turned away from the counter and paced, trying to focus on the rhythmic sound of his footsteps.

Marinette continued, "I never said anything because it didn't seem like my business, but music's such a big part of you—" She halted. "...Luka?"

She must've heard him.

"I'm okay, sorry." He cleared his throat. "It's... different. I like it enough, but there are deadlines and contracts, so there's pressure that wasn't there before."

And I wish I was there with you, he didn't say.

"I know what you mean," she said sympathetically. "Things change."

"Yeah. What about you?" he questioned in return.

"Me?"

"Your career was really taking off around the time I left," he recalled. "I remember it being a lot too. Did you get used to it?"

"Oh, yeah! I got used to... it."

There was something unspoken there, but Luka could sense that it wasn't something that should be explained in a call at such an early hour.

"Honestly, compared to that, the move was nothing," she said idly, "but I had other things to deal with so I still couldn't call you until now."

"You moved?" That was news to him, though not in a surprising way. They hadn't caught up in so long, after all. "When?"

"A while ago? I mean, I realized that the house I used to be in was still too close to everything after the divorce, so I wanted more distance."

Luka stilled. He ran that sentence over in his head, then again, then once more for good measure. The coffee had finally finished brewing, so he took a large sip whilst ignoring the way it tried to burn him.

Nevertheless, his comprehension of the word - divorce - remained the same, and it was only when he realized how long he'd been quiet that he managed a weak, "W-whose divorce?"

"Mine, of course." There was a pause, after which she said, "Wait, Luka, you—you didn't hear?"

"No." He'd heard nothing of the sort. He didn't have a lot of friends back in Paris, much less ones who would talk about something like this, and the news hadn't reached America. "When did you...?"

"A couple months ago," Marinette replied casually.

Months. Luka gulped down the rest of his coffee in sheer disbelief, making a hissing sound when the heat was still a little much. Setting the cup aside, he admitted again, "I really had no idea."

"Good to know that you're not perfect and not as observant as you thought," she said with a chuckle. "Anyway, it was a long time coming. I had to get out."

He was silent, waiting for her to elaborate while his brain was rebooting.

"It was... stifling. Suffocating. I couldn't handle the paparazzi and everyone just seeing me as Adrien's girlfriend while he was practically basking in it. Maybe it seems weird that I didn't notice for a long time, but when I really thought about it, it made sense. Back when I was a teenager, everyone was pushing for me to get together with him, and after that, everyone started pushing for us to get married. Then, after that, there was no next step, which is what being with Adrien had always been about. We were married, we were living together, but then I finally got to take a look around and realized that I wasn't happy."

"I—" His throat felt dry. He had no idea she'd been feeling like that, and he hadn't heard about it or been there either. "I'm sorry that happened, Marinette."

"No, I needed it. Now I can focus on myself and..." She swallowed audibly, adding in a softer tone, "the people I hold the closest to me."

He was torn, happy to hear her again yet upset at everything she'd been through to make such a heavy decision. He'd never imagined the actual pressure in such a relationship, having the eyes of everyone on her and knowing that breaking it apart would mean “wasting the efforts” of all who tried to make it work.

He tried to find comfort in the knowledge that she was at least alright now, not wanting to drag down the mood further.

"...Luka," Marinette uttered, as if she’d been mulling something over, "maybe it's weird to say it now, but—"

Though still recovering from their previous topic, Luka put on a smile even if she couldn't see it. "Now I'm curious. You can't leave a string unplucked when your hand's already on it."

She snorted in amusement. Good, he'd brightened the mood. "Just... I missed you."

Ah. Luka almost criticized her, wondering how it was fair to call him in the middle of the night, tell her that she was single, and casually throw out an 'I missed you' like it was nothing.

"I missed you too," he said instead.

"I'm glad. Not that I'm glad you've been missing me, because that would mean you've been sad, but—" She groaned and it became clear that she'd been trying to lead into something. "What I meant to say was... do you think—or, I don't know how busy you are, but..."

"What is it?"

"Would it be okay if I called more...?" she asked hesitantly. "You'd have to let me know whenever you change timezones, but—"

"Why wouldn't it be okay?" He spoke perhaps a bit too quickly to be casual, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He'd blame it on the coffee (that clearly wasn't doing its job anyway) if he had to. "I'd love to talk to you more."

"I'd be keeping you," she said as if it was a bad thing.

You can keep me forever. "I'm not busy enough where I can't talk to you, and I don't get that many calls from anyone else."

"But what if they were frequent? So I called you all the time?"

"What do you mean all the time?" he wondered, still not understanding the problem.

"...D-daily?"

He nearly laughed, stifling the noise he made with a hand and being glad that he’d set his cup down earlier. He might’ve dropped it otherwise. "Daily sounds great. I can even call you instead if you want."

"Oh. Oh!" She gasped excitedly. "Yes! Yeah, that'd—that'd be great!"

Conversation from there went smoothly, Luka's brain constantly buzzing from the sheer joy of what was happening. There was music coursing throughout his entire body, but he settled for jotting down notes over playing his guitar, not wanting to risk waking the whole city up. He didn't consider himself a needy person, but he was already craving those future calls with her.

And if they went on talking for over an hour, neither minded.

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #type: salt

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di-writes-stuff · 6 months

Text

Cowboy Like Me

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Chapter 2

TW: Mentions of alcohol? Literally nothing, which is weird for me.

It’s of no shock that Valentine isn’t exactly a land of dazzling opportunity. It seems Mr. Mallory was about the only person worth robbing in the whole damned county, and of course that chance slipped right through Arthur’s fingers.

All thanks to you.

You wouldn’t exactly say you felt guilty. That’s not the right word. Empathy is better suited, although you’ve never been one to let a good job slide right past you. Nevertheless, there was something more driving your decision to send that letter.

You would never admit it, not openly. But something about him…you wanted to see him again. Maybe it was his looks, maybe the fact that for once, a man might understand you.

Or maybe it was how sweet he was that first day, coupled with the danger that comes with a man like him. The thrill of knowing damn well you’ve seen that face before, and only later realizing where. In the middle of a bounty poster with a reward of more money than you’ve ever even gotten close to.

Five thousand dollars on his head alone. You’d be a damned liar if you said that didn’t make him more enticing. And so, after you heard about a goldmine in the midst of the barrenness that surrounds Valentine, writing to a certain Arthur Morgan didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

After all, everybody deserves a second chance.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Outlaws don’t typically get mail from random women, so when Miss Grimshaw let Arthur know there was a letter from a lady sitting on his cot, confusion was the first thing that sprung to mind. After he saw your name on the envelope, then came the recognition.

A poster pinned up outside the sheriff's office a couple towns back. He could have gone for your bounty, it was decent enough, but something in him told him to go with the man next to who he now knows to be you.

He’s never felt better about that decision than now as he reads your swirling handwriting.

Dear Arthur,

You don’t know me very well, and I’m not quite sure I know you at all. But, I figured if the price on your head is of any indication, your skills could be useful to me, and mine to you. See, there’s a train running through these parts this Saturday, full of all kinds of rich folk with plenty to go around. If you’re as interested in this prospect as I believe you will be, meet me on Friday morning at the Valentine saloon. I’m sure we can think of some kind of plan together.

Besides, I’m afraid I’ve been in your debt since poor old Mr. Mallory “misplaced” some valuables. I figured it was high time I repaid you for that little incident.

- Y/N

He sits on his cot like a fool for a few moments, a boyish grin on his face before the realization hits him. It’s Friday, and it’s already well past sunrise.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

For a moment you started to believe he wasn’t coming, imagined images of him throwing away your letter in confusion filling you with humiliation.

That is until the man himself walked through the doors of the saloon, although if his appearance had anything to do with it, you’d say he rushed. His hair is a little messy as he removes his black leather hat, and you can’t help but notice that the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, hair peeking out of the loose collar of his shirt.

His steps come down heavy on the creaky wooden panels of flooring as he makes his way over to you, willing his heart rate down to normal as he does.

You, on the other hand, look like a perfect picture of a civilized lady. The vest you bought with the money from oh so generous Mr. Mallory fits snugly around your waist. Enough to be attractive, but not too enticing, that wouldn’t be very lady-like, of course. Your skirt hangs off the edges of your stool, covering any bit of skin that would leave the rather judgmental citizens of Valentine scoffing and tugging their daughters away from such a bad influence.

In short, you look innocent, something you’ve mastered after years of being the exact opposite.

You also look beautiful, something Arthur notices very clearly as his eyes sweep over your waiting figure. The saloon had few windows, flickering candlelight creating shadows that seemed to dance along your face. You can’t help the smirk that creeps onto your face at the relief on his upon finding you awaiting him.

He walks over slowly enough, not too eager, although the way his fingers rap along the leather brim of his hat tell you otherwise, the the dull tapping the only sound made between the two of you as he sits on the stool beside you.

You break the silence, seeing as you’re the one who invited him here. “You came.” Is the only sentence you utter, his presence in front of you a little nerve inducing, if you’re being honest. You keep your voice at a low murmur, watching as he leans in ever closer to hear you better.

He nods slowly, and you watch his lips move as his gruff voice sounds. “I’ve learned enough not to keep a lady waiting.” The smile on your face only grows at his words as you examine every detail of him that your previous meetings were too short to notice.

His honey-colored hair is choppy, only a few tufts growing long enough to brush along his forehead. Tanned skin shows little crows feet by the corners of his eyes, ones that you assume are from years of squinting against the desert sun rather than laughter. His eyes are just as entrancing as the day you met, swirling shades of blue and green trapping you like a moth to flames. Stubble adorns the lower half of his face, the only spot untouched a little scar on his chin.

The most noticeable thing is that Arthur Morgan is handsome, distractingly so. The sleeves of his faded blue shirt are rolled up to reveal the strong build he has underneath, a sheen of sweat across his forearms.

Your eyes snap back up to his face to find a rather cocky smirk waiting for you, a clear sign that your admiration hadn’t gone unnoticed. You don’t mind too much, seeing as his didn’t either. After the pregnant pause you find your voice again, enough to respond to his little quip. “Good choice, Mr. Morgan.” You watch as shock flits across his gaze for a moment at your knowledge of his full name.

It’s a small victory, but impressing him once again fills you with a bit of pride. “Now, about that train.” You begin carefully, not wanting to abandon the small talk too forwardly.

After all, men can have such fragile little egos.

Although, it seems Arthur had been waiting for you to bring it up, his eyes lighting up at the thought of a good job. He nods, waiting for finer details than what he found in your letter.

It seems as if the train is on a scenic trip through the countryside. Giving all the stuck up rich folk from the big city what they think is a taste of western life. All from the from the safety of a train, of course. After all, what would they do if mud disgraced the bottoms of their fine, imported shoes? It couldn’t be further than the reality of living out here, but you imagine they don’t care to know what it’s really like. They never do, it’s all about if something looks nice.

For a moment you find yourself thinking they’d like the sight in front of you then, too. He’s certainly easy on the eyes, but you try not to linger on that thought too long.

You receive only nods and the occasional “mhm” as he listens, sipping a beer as he does. Once you’ve finished explaining he looks confused for a moment, and you wonder if getting him involved with this was a mistake. The question that leaves his mouth next certainly isn’t what you expected. “I’ve seen you work. You’re good, so why do you think ya need me on this?” He asks, his southern drawl hushed to avoid any gaining any listeners.

You can’t help but blush as little as you look down, a lock of hair falling in front of your face. The truth is, you don’t need him. You could do this job yourself and be out in no time. Sure, two people might get it done faster, but working with an outlaw as known as Arthur comes with it’s own slew of risks.

The truth is, you wanted to see him again. For some foolish, girlish reason, you did. Enough that the payout wasn’t the first thing you thought of upon hearing about this job.

It was him.

You clear your throat a bit, resisting the urge to look away again when you see a certain glint in his eyes. You’ve seen it before, on different men, on different days. The only difference is they were all, well, them.

Dull, cookie cutter versions of the same man over and over. No cracks in the surface, nothing to strike your interest. So dreadfully un-ordinary that they could all be clumped into the same category of men trying to be what they assumed you would be attracted to.

Perfect.

It’s not as if you know Arthur well. Some would argue you don’t know him at all. Maybe it’s foolish of you to think he’s different simply because he’s not so eager to take a step into the new world. Void of outlaws and freedom, of wild land untouched by gluttonous men who believe that it’s something to be owned, dominated.

Void of people like you and him, living with the land rather than atop it. Maybe it’s because in him, you see that fire that everybody seems to be trying so hard to extinguish.

And so, you answer honestly, because lying to him is something you’re not sure you want to do. “I don’t need you, Arthur. As shocking as this might seem, I’ve found I rather like your company.” The smile on his face is mirrored on yours quickly, brightened cerulean eyes watching you over the rim of a beer bottle.

He’s a smart man, so your answer didn’t exactly come as a shock. Still, hearing it brought a certain flush to his face he hasn’t felt in years. The sound of your voice is still just as sweet as it was the very first day when you speak again.

“So, are you in?” He smirks, a devilish kind of excitement on his face.

You know you shouldn’t, he’s trouble. It’s as clear as day. But that look sends your stomach fluttering like a teenage girl.

“Course’, miss.”

It’s a bad idea to involved with the likes of him, but you can’t seem to find your reason as a smirk grows on your face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night. Meet me at the train station.” As you stand to leave, you can feel his eyes follow you to the door, just like the last time you met, and just like the time before that.

You can’t help but throw one last glance over your shoulder at the figure watching you, smirking as he brings the bottle up to his lips.

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

A/N: JENDHWJSGDHWGDHEBHEHD

(i love him sm)

- di <3

#fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr1 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 arthur

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autumntouched · 1 year

Text

Every Time It Comes Around Pt.II

Fic Summary: Hangman and Phoenix have a lot of growing up to do from the first time they meet. Four times Hangman and Phoenix could have realized there is more than insults and competition between them and one time they do.

aka Hangman and Phoenix are messyyyy. but then they grow up. kind of.

Pairings: Phoenix/Hangman, Phoenix/Rooster

Warnings: 18+, NSFW. Language, alcohol consumption, SMUT (Rooster)

A/N: Welp, this one went from a drabble to a saga real fast. Like got way way way out of control. Went from one shot to two chapter I definitely stretched some of the themes. All in good fun...hopefully. From my head to the page with few edits.

Did I try to read a fighter pilot manual to understand maneuvers? Yes. Is the part about flying accurate? NO. Also, I don’t snowboard so please forgive me.

Comments/reblogs appreciated xx

Playlist: Here’s the playlist for this chapter! Some of the themes have direct references to songs and for others, the songs served as inspiration.

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Natasha tears off her helmet in frustration. A whole week of working on a maneuver, and she’s still getting it wrong. Well, not wrong exactly but she’s watched several pilots in the class ahead do it without bleeding as much speed as she is. And by several, that really means Seresin.

Becker shoves past her on his way down the flight line. “What the hell is your problem, Trace? I told you we had it over an hour ago. Make me freaking late for my date with your little miss perfect show up there.”

She holds back a retort and once again wishes she’d been paired with Bradshaw for the week. No matter how long it took or what his plans were, he would have kept at it with her until they got it. Angrily, she tugs at the zipper of her flight suit to try to find some relief from the cloying, Mississippi humidity that’s swamped her undershirt and soaked her bra.

“Why helloooo Little Miss Perfect,” someone drawls, and the end of her day really couldn’t get worse because here comes Jake Seresin himself to rub in the fact that he’s watched her fly like shit. Only a few more weeks before he heads to his first duty station, and she can’t wait to get him out of her hair. He strolls out from behind one of the planes at the end of the row.

“Shove it,” she snaps, not at all in the mood after dealing with Becker’s snideness. Seresin’s already changed out of his Navy uniform and into his preppy one of a white t-shirt, pastel chino shorts, and boat shoes, which means he stuck around just to be a pain in her ass.

He smiles smugly and uses his tongue to flip the toothpick in his mouth. “Guess I can go shove the little secret I was going to share with you then too?”

“It’s not a secret you’re an asshole.”

“Well someone’s a little more Little Miss Cranky this evening. I thought you might want to know what you’re doing wrong up there.”

Her flight gear’s getting heavy and her patience even shorter, but her curiosity wins out. “And what’s in it for you, if you tell me?”

Seresin flips his toothpick again and smirks. “Knowing you’re the best because of me.”

Natasha scoffs and adjusts her things. “Your magnanimity is astounding. No. I’m good.” She stomps off.

“You know, you can be so condescending when you’re annoyed,” he says, keeping up with her.

“Too bad that’s a problem only you have to deal with,” she shrugs.

“So I guess you’re sleeping easy about those upcoming rankings then?”

Damn it. He has her there. If she wants to stay in at least the top three, she’s going to have to pull ahead of Hewitt and, for a buffer, Singh.

“I’ll manage,” she grits out. She’ll spend all weekend rereading the manual cover to cover if she has to to figure it out.

“Do you like barbecue?” he asks out of nowhere. She stops again and looks over at him. Seresin narrows his eyes. “Actually, remind me where you’re from again. You might not even be qualified to judge what barbecue is.”

“California, and I know–.”

“Oh no. No, you don’t.”

“Now who’s condescending?”

“Buy me dinner, and I’ll give you that secret. Fair exchange.” He slides his hands into his pockets while she considers what she has to lose. Or gain.

“Fine.” She showers quickly and meets him outside in his Jeep, feeling much cooler in a tank top, cutoff shorts, and Vans. He keeps the aux on low as they leave the base. It’s a country playlist, not something she listens to unless she’s hanging out with her cousins.

“So, do I get to know this secret before or after we eat?” she asks.

Hangman props his left elbow on the door. “It’s all business with you, isn’t it, Trace?”

“With you, yes,” she says, stretching out her legs. “I don’t need anything about me lobbed back in my face at some point.” He seems taken aback. She has no idea why when he’s made it his mission to antagonize the hell out of her every chance he gets. “But if you want to get personal, tell me what it takes to be a so-called qualified judge of barbecue.”

As much as she doesn’t want to be, she’s impressed to realize he wasn’t entirely being a dick when it comes to how much he knows. His enthusiasm cracks some of his cool exterior, and Natasha actually learns something about regional styles and methods. They seem to realize at the same moment that they might be enjoying the conversation, and Seresin trails off.

Fortunately, Natasha finally recognizes one of the songs on his playlist. She laughs. “Well, this is appropriate.” When he looks over with a question pinched between his brows, she points to her shirt. “Barbecue Stain!”

“It’s called ‘Something Like That,’ Trace,” he corrects her, but Seresin grins and turns the volume up as Tim McGraw sings:

“A sailor sky made a perfect sunset/And that’s the day I’ll never forget…”

He starts to sing along with the chorus. “I had a barbecue stain on my white t-shirt. She was killing me in that miniskirt.” He glances over at her with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes.

Harmonizing just to show off a little, she joins in. “Skippin’ rocks on the river by the railroad tracks. She had a suntan line and red lipstick. I worked so hard for that first kiss, and a heart don’t forget something like that.”

Natasha stops singing as soon as he drops off. He insists that she keep going though, nodding and tapping along on his steering wheel while she finishes the song.

When the smoky smell of barbecue hits her nose, she sits up to search the roadside for their destination. Seresin smiles. “You know it’s the real deal if you can smell it before you see it.”

Not too long after he pulls off into a gravel covered area beside what she can only describe as a nondescript shack with four picnic tables out front. Still, three of the tables are nearly full. A large, faded hand painted sign propped against the side of the building reads “Leroy’s BBQ.”

��Guess I should’ve checked to see if you had plans to murder me before I agreed to this,” she jokes, peering past him through the window.

He turns off his car and undoes his seatbelt. “If you want the good stuff, you have to go where people just go for the food. Looks like we’re catching the end of the dinner rush. You’re going to want to get the red velvet, but I guarantee you’ll need it to go. Oh, and this.” He reaches over and retrieves a can of bug spray from the glove compartment. Outside, they spray themselves down.

Natasha follows him up to the window.

“My man!” exclaims the elderly Black man behind the counter as soon as Seresin walks up. He wears a black baseball cap over his graying hair, frameless glasses, and an old red “Leroy’s BBQ” t-shirt that hangs off him as if even broader shoulders and chest once filled it. “How’s it goin’, Mr. Pilot?”

Seresin leans on the ledge that runs beneath the window like this is a regular ritual for them. “Not bad, Mr. Leroy.” There’s more respect in his voice than he gives even most senior officers. His Texas twang is also more pronounced, and she can’t tell if he’s dialing it up here or tones it down around everyone else. “How’s it going? Where’s Ma Lu?”

“Business good, so we good,” Mr. Leroy says, bowing his head slightly. “Don’t worry. She made me put your potato salad aside before we run out. Lu’s over helpin’ her sister tonight. She threw out her back, says she did it lifting somethin’ heavy, but I told Lu that woman probably wasn’t lifting nothing heavier than her skirt. If you know what I mean.”

Natasha covers her smile with her hand, appreciating that he’s found the politest way to say something so rude. Mr. Leroy cackles but noticing Seresin laugh somewhat half-heartedly, he leans forward. “Wait a minute now, Ensign, this beauty here with you? Hello there, Miss. Whowee, you must be somebody real special because–.”

Horrified, she backpedals away from Seresin so fast that she nearly topples into the couple in line behind them. “No, I–.”

“She works with me,” he jumps in, a tinge of pink in his cheeks when he has to grab her upper arm to reel her back from losing her footing. “Don’t get me in trouble, Mr. Leroy. She gives me enough of it already.” He drops her arm like it’s a hot engine and takes a step away. Then puts his hands in his pockets for good measure. “‘Scuse my bad manners for not introducing her sooner. This is Ensign Natasha Trace. We fly together.”

Mr. Leroy looks between them and decides very clearly to keep something to himself. But there’s a knowing lift to his shaggy eyebrows. Another protest rises to her lips, but she pushes it down. They’ve made their point. “Well, real pleasure to meet you, Ensign Trace. Imma have to tell my grandbaby I got to meet a girl Navy pilot today. Isn’t that something else! What can I get y’all?”

Natasha mentally resets and forces herself to push through the awkward moment. “A red velvet to go, and what would you recommend for someone who apparently knows nothing about barbecue?” she jabs at Seresin.

He smiles sheepishly when Mr. Leroy scowls. “He tell you that, Miss Ensign? Don’t pay him no mind. I’ll fix you something good so you know all about it.”

As soon as she’s paid, she suggests saving them seats and escapes before Seresin can answer. His flying tips better be worth it. The sun’s beginning to lower, tinting the sky with vibrant pink and purple, when she slides onto the bench at the end of one of the tables and swings her feet up to hold the seat across from it. Mosquitoes buzz loudly past her ear and around her arms. She slaps them away, grateful for a reason to be slightly annoyed by the time Seresin comes over with two plates sagging under the weight of their food.

Any chagrin melts away with her first bite of the brisket. Sweet, tangy, and tender it falls apart into a mouthful of flavor at the slightest touch of her teeth. A delightful kick of spice tails the first wave of flavors.

“Good, isn’t it?” he asks, lips already covered in barbecue sauce.

She nods, mouth too full to respond. He lets her try everything on her plate before he dives into the promised information. With the same enthusiasm he had in the car, he explains and demonstrates with his hand how to adjust her speed on entry to angle her plane to minimize air resistance as fast as possible and accelerate through the direction shift. When she asks, he also points out several other areas where she could make a few adjustments for better results.

Plenty of the guys have tried to tell her how to fly, even when she’s outflown them, but Seresin’s eye is impressively sharp. He can tell her exactly what she’s doing in the cockpit and how it’s impacting her outcome.

Dusk has fallen around them, the sunlight replaced by floodlights from the shack’s overhang. Insects rattle and whir loudly over the chatter of the other patrons and the occasional car passing along the two lane highway. She feels her shirt start to cling to the sweat on her lower back, but Seresin looks unfazed by the heat as he takes a deep pull from his beer. The front of his dirty blond hair lays flat across his forehead, and in the dimmer light, his normally taunting douchebagness softens into something almost resembling sweet and playful.

Natasha slams the breaks on those thoughts. “But the manual says–,” she starts, getting her mind back on track.

Seresin lowers a rib from his lips. “The manual tells you what your plane should do, not what it can do. It’s the lowest common denominator to keep every bozo who goes up in a jet alive.” He considers her with a long, thoughtful look. “But you’re not exactly the lowest common denominator, are you, Trace?”

She sees his point but also the compliment. “Thanks.” She tries not to sound surprised or too grateful, like she needs his approval to know she’s good at what she does. But, the compliment feels good.

Wanting to settle what happened at the counter, Natasha weighs her next words as she scrubs her fingers. His attention has turned to his cornbread, which he sops through the sauce on his plate before devouring it in three large bites. “You know, this whole time you’re the only guy who’s been single at some point and never made a pass at me. Well, except for the ones who wouldn’t be interested anyway.”

He goes still mid-bite. “Bradshaw?” he blurts then jerks his hand up to catch the crumbs that tumble out his mouth.

“To be fair, I don’t think he would’ve under different circumstances.” She normally ducks out before the guys get too drunk, but Bradshaw can get so wasted that she worries he’ll get himself into trouble if she leaves. And it hadn’t exactly been his finest moment. He’d vomited down the front of his shirt, and she was trying to help him get undressed without smearing it in his hair. Worried she’s given Seresin ammo he doesn’t need, she says sharply, “Don’t tell him I told you that. I was just trying to say that I appreciate it. Even if otherwise, you’re the biggest pain in my ass.”

He gulps down the rest of his cornbread and gives her a flirtatious smirk. “I’ll take that. Better than being a smaller one. And I figured you were just here for the same reason I am. To be the best pilot.”

Of course he always has to undermine anything thoughtful with something so immature. She rolls her eyes. Only a few more weeks until he leaves behind peace and quiet.

At home, Natasha stashes her leftovers in the fridge and sets the red velvet cake on the counter. It looks so tempting. And although she’s still full, she figures it can’t hurt to try a little bit. Breaking off a small piece with her fingers, she brings it to her lips and gives it a tentative nibble then shoves it in her mouth with a groan. She closes her eyes and leans into the counter, overcome by how good it is.

Sweeping the icing from her upper lip with her tongue, she’s suddenly caught up in the sensation of Jake Seresin teasing her lips apart. Tentatively she turns the cake over in her mouth, and he’s deepened the kiss so that his tongue brushes hers, as soft and lingering and smooth as the red velvet’s rich flavor. One hand skims between her shoulders to draw her close to his firm chest as the thumb of the other guides her head back so his mouth can taste all of hers, hungry, scorching, and possessive.

Wait.

Natasha’s eyes fly open. Where the hell did that come from? Her face burns like he’s right there to see her think about him that way. She shoves the cake away and retreats to her room for a night with her vibrator. Clearly she hasn’t blown off enough steam lately.

On Monday, she does as Seresin suggested and manages to throw her instructor. “Yes!” she whoops after making sure she’s changed the comms channel so no one can hear her celebrating.

She’s just scrambled out of her plane when MacGyver strolls up to her. “Good job up there today, Trace. Guess Seresin talked to you?”

“Sir?”

“You were close. Figured you’d nail it with a few pointers.” He claps her on the shoulder and walks away. Natasha stares after him, heart sinking. She’d thought…so Jake Seresin hadn’t wanted to be helpful. He was just following orders. Like he said, they’re both here to be the best pilots.

Bradshaw jogs up to high five her, but Natasha feels its sting more than its triumph.

The second time it happens, it’s not really her fault.

Natasha sinks the ping pong ball neatly into the last solo cup. “Yes!” shouts Rooster, lifting her off her feet and spinning her in his excitement. On the other side of the table, Coyote kisses his girlfriend, Vicky, for a game well played if lost.

Riptide has organized an extended weekend at her college friend’s family cabin in Whistler. Cabin is an understatement considering the breathtaking mountain views from the living and dining room’s floor to ceiling windows. The kitchen is large enough that they’ve set up a folding table for their pre-dinner beer pong game without getting in the way of the first night’s dinner crew. The Korean tacos Jumanji and his girlfriend Paloma are cooking up smell delicious.

Natasha is laughing and trying to wriggle out of Rooster’s grip when the doorbell rings. Riptide crams a guacamole laden tortilla chip in her mouth and hops off her boyfriend’s lap to get the door.

“You made it!” she exclaims.

It must be Hangman. His deployment kept getting extended, and they weren’t sure he would make it back in time. Everything in the kitchen goes quiet as they all register the raised voices.

“I know, okay! But we’re here so can we please try to enjoy the weekend?” Hangman argues.

“Why couldn’t we stay at a hotel?” a woman complains.

“I told you. Everything nearby is sold out. Besides, we’re staying here. This place is huge, Rip! Good to see you.”

“Oh Lord,” Vicky mutters under her breath. Coyote shoots her a warning look that she ignores. “You didn’t tell me he was bringing her.”

He reaches for his drink. “I didn’t know she was coming.” Vicky’s frown says she doesn’t believe that. “Until this morning,” he caves and ducks into his cup.

Great. It’s bad enough Hangman is here but with an annoying girlfriend to boot? Natasha turns to Rooster and motions for him to pass her beer. This weekend is going to be long in a way she hasn’t planned for.

Riptide tries to ease the situation by hyping the house’s hot tub and movie theater, but Hangman’s girlfriend is still pouting when she follows him and Riptide into the kitchen. Almost as tall as he is with chestnut waves, wide sapphire eyes and flawless skin, she would be stunning if she didn’t look like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum.

She turns on him before he has a chance to introduce her. “You didn’t tell them that I’m vegetarian? What am I going to eat?”

Vicky scowls like she has an answer to that, but Coyote wraps an arm around her neck and whispers something in her ear.

“Babe, I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Hangman assures her, rubbing a hand over her back. “Just…hey, y’all! This is my girlfriend, Cally.” He smiles like they haven’t been arguing since they walked through the door.

Cally gives everyone a sullen wave while they go around and introduce themselves.

The upside of Cally being there is that she demands so much of Hangman’s attention that he doesn’t have time to annoy anyone. Even though Paloma makes a hearty salad to go along with the tacos, Cally insists that he get up from the table to make her a cheese quesadilla. Then she nearly storms off when she learns that all the bedrooms have been taken. By the end of dinner, Natasha seems to be the only one to have found anything to appreciate about her.

Under the guise of changing into their swimsuits for the hot tub, Paloma and Vicky make a quick exit upstairs to gossip. They text Natasha to join while she’s helping with dinner clean up, but Riptide pulls her aside into the bathroom. Her face is pinched with guilt, and she fidgets with the ends of her braids.

“I have a huge favor to ask you,” she says, glancing at the door and keeping her voice low. Natasha expects what’s coming.

“You want me to give them my room,” she sighs, letting her friend off the hook from having to ask.

Riptide grimaces and massages her forehead. “Essentially. If that’s okay? I didn’t think it would be a big deal to give them the air mattress since they confirmed so late, but I think that might be more of a headache than it’s worth. I was going to give them our room, but Drew’s about to lose it after dinner.”

Although Natasha has finally found a reason to be annoyed with Hangman, she feels bad that her friend is stressed during what’s supposed to be her vacation. “Yeah, it’s okay. I don’t mind the air mattress.”

“No, you can have the sofa bed. Rooster already volunteered to take the air mattress.”

Natasha tries to read in Riptide’s expression whether she’s picked up anything from Rooster’s offer, but she seems too caught up in hosting logistics to worry about his motives. “Don’t worry. I promise we’ll have a good time this weekend and laugh about this later.”

Riptide smiles appreciatively and goes to let Hangman know about the switch while Natasha packs up her things.

“Trace, you don’t have to do this.”

She looks up from stuffing her snow pants into her duffel bag. Hangman hovers in the doorway, and if she didn’t know him so well, she would say he looks embarrassed.

“It’s Phoenix now,” she reminds him. “So you think your girlfriend’s going to go from wanting a hotel to being okay with an air mattress?”

“I’ll talk to her,” he says lamely. He glances down the hall then steps into the room and closes the door. “This was her first deployment, and I think it was a lot harder than she expected. I’m trying to–.”

“I’ll let you know when I want to listen to your girl problems, Seresin,” she cuts him off. Natasha swings her bag onto her shoulder.

Some of his usual cockiness returns, and a slow, obnoxious grin breaks across his face. “It’s Hangman now,” he says, gleefully replaying her words to her. “Or Hungman, depending on who you ask.”

Natasha snuffs out the flicker of curiosity about the truth of that claim. “Whatever. I wasn’t asking. If you want to feel bad about evicting me, help me with my board.” She kicks her foot toward where her gear is propped against the wall.

“This is yours?” He hurries on from her exasperated look. “I mean, you must be pretty good if you have a board this nice.”

“I am. Watch out!” she warns just in time for him to sidestep the door from hitting his back as it flies open. He catches it before it can hit her gear.

“Jake?” Cally snaps. Her eyes land on Natasha and narrow. “I’ve been calling you. I needed help with our bags. What were you doing in here?”

“Driving me up the wall,” Natasha says, letting her irritation come through loud and clear. “Take him. He’s all yours. Bed’s changed by the way. I’ll be back in a sec to grab my board and stuff.”

“I got it,” Rooster offers from the hallway behind Cally. He and Coyote have what she assumes are Hangman and Cally’s bags.

“Perfect!” Natasha shoves past Hangman out of the room.

Later that night, she’s curled up under a wonderfully heavy and warm down comforter when the sofa bed dips around her with Rooster’s weight. His nose traces the edge of her ear, sending a shiver down her back. “You still awake?” he whispers.

Natasha rolls onto her back under him, her lower abdomen already curling with molten desire at his hovering heat and bare chest. “And if I weren’t?”

He kisses a sensitive spot behind her ear, silencing her warning that they could get caught before it makes it to her tongue. “Guess I’d have to rub another one out after seeing how cute you looked in your swimsuit.”

“I was more than cute,” she complains, but his appreciation for the red bikini she’d packed for him isn’t lost on her.

“Whatever the word is then for wanting to tear it off you.” Rooster moves his mouth to her neck and the brush of his mustache is doing wild things to her ability to think straight. She wraps her arms around his broad shoulders.

“Did you really…”

He exhales impatiently over her collarbone. “So I was a little desperate. D’you want to tease me about it or find out what I imagined doing to you?” Sliding off the strap of her tank top, he gives her a preview of what he had in mind.

“Not here,” she exhales needily.

“Bathroom?” he suggests. He moves out of the way while she throws off the covers, but then he lifts her off her feet so she can feel exactly how much he’s been enjoying thinking about her in her swimsuit. Her hand is down his pants before he fumbles the door closed behind them.

The next morning, the whole house can hear the full pitched fight between Hangman and Cally about whether or not they’re going to the slopes that day. Still in her pajamas, Vicky jams her finger into the coffee brew machine. “I have not had enough coffee for her to start this early,” she mutters under her breath. She glares over at Coyote. “If you don’t say something, Javy, I will.”

Riptide looks around in defeat. “Let’s just pack the car?”

They’re almost ready to go when Hangman comes downstairs by himself. Natasha finds herself stuck in a car alone with him because Riptide, Drew, Paloma, and Jumanji are in the other one with their ski equipment. He sends several texts then continues to check his phone. His brow furrows more and more each time.

“I think she’s ignoring me.” He tries calling, but it cuts off and goes to voicemail. “Definitely ignoring me.”

Whether she likes it or not, it seems like she’s going to be dragged into his mess one way or another. “Did I miss something or is she not coming because she’s mad she doesn’t have you to herself this weekend?” Natasha asks, keeping her eye out for black ice along the road.

“Please don’t ask me to explain that logic,” he groans, forehead propped in his hand. “But yes.”

She can’t resist being a little bit of a jerk. “You picked a real keeper, didn’t you?”

He makes a sad, non-committal noise and slumps in his seat. Natasha tells herself it’s for all their sakes that she decides to make him an offer. “Look, I can’t believe I’m saying this or even willing to do it, but I’m pretty sure I know how to get her to the mountain by lunch.” Hangman looks at her skeptically, and she gives him a sly smile. “A little FOMO never hurt anyone, right?”

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” he demands suspiciously. “You want to make my girlfriend jealous?”

Turning into the parking lot, she follows the other SUV to a pair of open spaces. “Who said anything about jealousy? I’m sure everyone wants to know how much fun we’re having up here.”

Hangman looks nonplussed. “Phoenix, of all people–.”

She pulls the parking brake with a shrug. “It seems like the situation might be dire enough. It’s up to you. Do you want my help or not?”

Paloma needs only the suggestion that they send a few pictures back to the house to go into photographer mode. She poses them with the Olympic rings and as a group in no time. Natasha is careful to always be beside Hangman. In one of them, she leans her head into his shoulder, which would have passed for platonic if Paloma hadn’t caught the moment he looked down at her in surprise.

It’s the first Paloma selects among the ones she sends to the group chat. “If this works,” she mutters, “you’re my hero.”

Natasha pats her shoulder. “Hopefully.” She turns to Hangman. “Now put your phone on do not disturb, and try to have some fun.”

By the time they’re on the chairlift, he has over ten missed texts. He frowns and tries to scroll through them, but she covers the screen with her mitten. “You’re on your own if you start moping and ruin this glorious morning for me. You can think about her when you see her at lunch.”

“You sound pretty confident about that,” he grumbles but reluctantly puts his phone away.

As soon as Natasha looks down the mountain with her boots strapped in, she couldn’t care less about Hangman’s girl problems. There’s a nearly fresh plane of powdery snow in front of her and the wind to their backs. She takes a steadying breath to get her bearings and shakes out her arms. For some reason, her first run of the season always comes with the fear that she’s somehow forgotten everything. It’ll pass as soon as she gets going.

“Gonna show me what you got?” Hangman challenges, watching her hesitation.

That’s all the push she needs. “If you can keep up,” she scoffs and launches herself forward.

Before flying planes, there was this, flying down a mountain with the tingling combination of cold air and warm sun on her exposed face as her board carves through the snow and the forces of gravity. She’ll get fancy later when her muscles have warmed up and their memory fully returns. For now she focuses on her speed, tightening her turns and sinking back into the rhythm of her tilts. Her mitten skims the snow, like the shadow of a plane over a still white ocean, and a thrill goes through her as she returns to the unchanging pocket of exhilaration snowboarding has always brought her.

It’s over too fast, just as she’s locking into her rhythm. As she approaches the bottom of the slope, Natasha straightens and lets the board’s friction slow her down while she looks out for Hangman. He’s not far behind her, and she’s a little smug to see that his confidence carries him as much as his skill. But she’s better. Rubbing it in, she unstraps her boot while she waits for him to catch up and pretends to check her watch.

“Are you kidding me, Phoenix! What was that?” His jaw is still slack when he reaches her.

She can’t help grinning. “A warm up. Sweating already, Hangman?”

“A little,” he admits without hesitation on their way back toward the chairlift. He may give her shit in the air, but apparently not here. “Show me how you go that fast?”

“Of course my young Padawan,” she teases. “But first you can tell the group chat that I kicked your ass on the run.”

Hangman takes a selfie of them helmet to helmet. Tongue tucked between his teeth, he types out a message then shows it to her for her approval before sending it off. He scrolls through his messages.

“She wants to know if it’s just you and me up here,” he reports. He scratches his jaw in thought and starts to respond.

Natasha assumed someone as hot–speaking as a completely objective third party observer–as Hangman would be better at this. “I can’t believe I’m helping you manipulate this girl but don’t reply to that just yet.”

He hesitates then slides his phone away. “Who knew Natasha Trace could be such a player,” he drawls, offering her a hand onto the lift that she ignores. “What poor guy is trying to play your games?”

That’s not a train of thought she wants him to follow to Bradshaw, so she says, “I’m single and very happy about it, dickhead. And I’m making an exception so your girlfriend doesn’t ruin everyone’s vacation. I hate games.” The words are barely out of her mouth before she regrets them. “Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He deflates. “Why? Everyone’s thinking it. I probably should’ve canceled when she asked me to, but it’s not like I get all that many chances to introduce her to my Navy friends.”

“That’s…sweet.” She’s surprised that she means it, to know that it matters to him that his girlfriend meets his friends. Trying to be more empathetic, Natasha says, “Look, she’s probably nervous about staying in a house with a bunch of people she doesn’t know and disappointed that she didn’t get time alone with you when you got back. Make a reservation for dinner tonight at one of the nice restaurants then surprise her with a couple’s spa date tomorrow afternoon. I’ll settle things down at the house while you’re gone.

They hop off the lift and skate out of the way of the oncoming chairs. “Also, you can tell her now it sucks that she’s not the one up here with you. Hope you’ll be able to ditch me for her after lunch.”

With his goggles covering half his face, it’s hard to read his expression but there’s an intensity around his mouth that makes her suddenly nervous. It dawns on her that this might be the longest stretch of conversation they’ve ever had where he’s spared her his sarcasm and baiting. It’s not her better half, but it’s been kind of nice to play the asshole in their relationship for once. “Phoenix?”

She crouches to set her straps and break the moment. “Yep, that’s what they call me now,” Natasha jokes to dispel the tension.

“I’ll think about her at lunch, okay? Let’s just enjoy the glorious morning.”

Hearing him repeat her words back to her makes her stomach do an odd swoop, like she hit a large drop in the road too fast. “Yeah, okay.” She recovers. “You go first so I can tell you what to do.”

He gives her a salute and a grin. “Aye aye, skipper.”

“Don’t,” she deadpans, but she doesn’t mind that he continues to call her that for the rest of their glorious morning.

“How’d I do that time?” he asks after their last run before lunch. “It felt good, but I–.”

It feels so strange for him to look for her approval that she wants to check under his goggles to make sure this is the same asshole who loves to remind her what an excellent pilot he is. “You’re getting there,” is all she says, ignoring the flutter in her stomach at the determined set of his mouth.

As Natasha promised, Cally is waiting for them. Her hair is beautifully blown out and her makeup perfectly airbrushed even though she’s dressed to ski. Now that she’s beaming, it’s obvious what Hangman sees in her. Natasha left for the day with no makeup and her hair in pigtail braids. Cally hurries over from the table that the house crew saved to kiss Hangman and apologize profusely for their fight that morning. He hooks an arm around her waist to whisper his plans for their candlelit dinner, and she giggles then rests her head on his shoulder.

Natasha buries her sudden disappointment that she’ll be on the slopes by herself later with a plan to try some tricks now that Hangman isn’t there to slow her down. She sits next to Rooster and by the time she orders her grilled cheese and tomato soup, she’s looking forward to the rest of the afternoon.

Vicky leans in when she’s sure everyone’s distracted by their food. “For some reason she thought you and Rooster were a thing,” she giggles to Natasha quietly. “You should’ve seen her face when she found out you’re single. Her attitude got fixed so fast it almost gave me whiplash.”

Natasha’s careful to laugh along but makes a note not to sit by Bradshaw at dinner. Not that anyone pays attention with the tension in the house now past and the fun turned up to full, drunk blast. Everyone, except Rooster that is. He doesn’t ask about Hangman, and he won’t with their arrangement. But that night, as she rides him in the nest of blankets they laid out in the bathroom’s oversized bathtub, he cups her face and draws her close.

Hazel eyes smoldering, he demands, “Say my name. My actual name.”

She blinks through her heady, alcohol blurred haze. “Bradley?” He pushes up deeper into her so that she gasps and falls forward over him, bracing herself on his shoulders and caressing his puckered scar under her thumb.

He kisses her mouth, hard and possessive. “Say it again,” he begs against her swollen lips.

“Bradley.” Her eyes trace his face. She’s struck by how much younger, more vulnerable he looks beneath his mustache. He swallows under her scrutiny, chin jutting out defiantly. She rocks her hips and buries her moan in his mouth. “I want you to fuck me, Bradley Bradshaw.” And he does, in a way he never has, driving away any inklings from that morning and holding his hand over her mouth to muffle the wail drawn from the obliterating force of her orgasm.

The third time it happens, it’s a slip of the tongue.

“I thought we put the do not disturb sign on the door last night,” Rooster complains when a knock interrupts the afternoon they’ve spent not getting out of bed after Turbo’s wedding. “Ignore it please,” he asks, holding onto her thighs when she tries to get off him to get it.

“Shhh,” Natasha teases, putting a finger to his pouting lips. “You’re not supposed to be here.” He captures and kisses the inside of her wrist. One final plea for her to ignore the second knock. She leans over him, deliberately letting her chest rest at his eye level. “The sooner you let me get it,” she whispers, “the sooner I can come back and give you a blow job.”

His eyes go wide and dark, and his hands spring off her. Laughing quietly, she drags on a sweatshirt and shorts.

Checking the peephole, she’s surprised to see Hangman’s date to the wedding, Jamie, standing nervously outside. Natasha leans into the bathroom to check the mirror, making sure it’s not entirely obvious what she’s been up to most of the day. Quickly, she runs a hand through her hair and opens the door.

“Natasha,” Jamie gasps, almost as if she’s surprised to see her. Although casually dressed, she’s as put together as she was at the reception. Before whatever happened with Hangman that left her crying and disheveled. She’d insisted she hadn’t been hurt, but it was clear she’d left him in a hurry.

“Hey, everything okay?” Natasha asks gently.

Jamie gathers herself and holds out a small shopping bag. “I washed your clothes. And got you something. As a thank you for last night.”

Natasha’s touched by the gesture. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” she says, taking the bag. “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay. I’m so glad you were at our table last night. It was so much fun.”

Suddenly, Jamie looks as if she’s going to cry again. “You did? I mean, I’m glad. Me too.”

Natasha sets the bag down inside the door. “Are you sure everything’s okay? Do you want to come in?” Behind her, Rooster stifles a yelp. She should have tossed him some clothes.

Jamie shakes her head. “I need to get going anyway. My friend’s waiting downstairs. But I–-I wanted to let you know that I promise I had no idea what was going on last night so I meant everything I said and did.” She twists her hands.

Bewildered, Natasha tries to figure out what she means. “I never thought you didn’t. What was going on?”

Jamie looks relieved and a little embarrassed. “As long as you’re not upset. I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was all in my head. I probably had too many of those amazing cocktails. I wish I’d thought to ask what’s in them.”

Natasha can tell she’s lying, or at least omitting something, but she doesn’t know her well enough to press. “Well, I think I can say there was nothing going on as far as I know, and I had a lot of fun.” She offers her arms, and Jamie steps in for the hug. “I can’t wait to see where you match!”

“Thanks!” Jamie tells her, sounding much happier. “And if we end up near one another, I’d love to hang out. Okay, I’d better go!”

“Anytime,” Natasha promises. “See you!” She waves and closes the door.

On her way back to the bed, she strips off her sweatshirt and pushes her shorts down her hips. “I kind of hoped it would work out between her and Hangman,” she muses, stepping out of her bottoms and tossing them into her suitcase. “Seems like she’d be good for him.”

When she turns back around, Rooster is sitting up in the bed staring at her incredulously. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” she laughs. “About what?”

“Are you serious, Phoenix? After what she just told you.” He draws his legs up under the sheets and rests his elbows on them. He’s close to needing a haircut and the way his mussed curls fall over his forehead makes her want to return to their previous activities.

Natasha puts her hands on her hips. “Are you okay?”

His expression hardens and his eyebrows knit together. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

The humor drops from her mouth. What the hell is Rooster getting angry about now? “Yeah, I’m fucking serious right now. What the hell is the problem?”

“Hangman tried using her to make you jealous and you don’t have a problem with that?”

It’s her turn to stare incredulously. “Were you even in the room? Who said anything about Hangman making me jealous?”

Rooster’s getting worked up, his face flushing. “What the hell do you think she was apologizing for? It doesn’t take a genius to put it together, Tash. She leaves Hangman crying in the middle of the night then comes and tells you something was going on that she didn’t know she was part of. He was using her!”

As much as she wants to believe it, she knows whatever Jamie felt was going on wasn’t only in her head. And Hangman trying to use Jamie to make her jealous makes the most sense. Especially if he has no idea about her and Rooster.

But then again, she hasn’t missed Rooster’s jealousy either. The way he put his hand on her back when he saw Hangman at their table. How he would check in if she was at the bar longer than five minutes.

“And so what if he was?” she argues.

Rooster flexes his fingers out of a fist. He speaks slowly, as if she’s stupid. “If he’s trying to make you jealous then that means he likes you.”

Natasha crosses her arms. “And so what if he does?”

“It’s Hangman!”

“If it’s Hangman,” she shoots back, “then what are you so worried about?”

He opens his mouth then realizes what he’s about to say. She dares him to ask, to accuse her of having feelings for Hangman. Because they both know that when he does that, it’s the end of their friends with benefits arrangement. Sullenly, he looks away.

Natasha’s mouth goes dry. It doesn’t matter that Rooster didn’t say it. Because it’s there, filling up the room and pushing them apart. She’s surprised at the knot in her throat.

“Natasha, please don’t,” he says with a tremor in his voice.

She tries to say them gently, but the words still come out like a stab. “It’ll just get harder.”

Rooster drops his head, chin trembling. “And you can’t.” He looks up at her with tears in his eyes. “We can’t make it work?”

“As friends? Of course,” she promises. “But, what I think you’re asking for? No. I’m sorry.” It probably won’t mean much to him right now, but she hopes that it can save a fragment of their friendship someday. “I knew before I got here this would be the last time. We just had a little less of it than I thought.”

He puts his head in his hands and clutches the curls she’d only recently been looking forward to winding around her finger. Somehow that was five minutes and a lifetime ago. Unable to watch his heart break any more, Natasha flees to the bathroom.

Every so often, she can hear Rooster’s sobs from the bedroom. Finally, she climbs into the shower and lets his scent wash off her. She wants to be angry at Hangman for the mess he started, but her gut tells her that he didn’t mean to do it. And she can’t help but wonder if there’s a kernel of truth beneath Rooster’s jealousy. Hangman couldn’t possibly have feelings for her, could he?

Rooster comes to check on her, and she opens the curtain for him to join her. While they stand naked under the water, she gingerly presses a cool washcloth to each side of his swollen face. He takes her elbows, and Natasha lets him pull her in for one last farewell to what they had.

The fourth time it happens, it’s an act of desperation.

“What the hell was that, Phoenix!” Hangman seethes once they can climb to their feet.

Two hundred push ups and her arms are killing her. She’s going to kill Payback and Fanboy as soon as she has the muscle strength to do so. Bob looks between the two of them.

“What the hell was what, Bagman?” she asks, slaking the sweat off her forehead and flicking it away.

“You got me shot down!”

“Your ego got you shot down, dickhead. You got us shot down.”

“Because I thought you could handle Maverick.”

She knows him well enough to see that he’s dead serious. Hangman watched every other team get their asses whooped today and still thought she had a chance. Of course he gives her a compliment in a moment of total assholery.

“Come on, Bob. I think we need to let someone cool off a little.” Her WSO gives Hangman one final look, as if afraid the daggers he’s glaring might actually stab them in the back, and follows her toward the hangar.

But it’s really her who needs to cool off. Hangman’s going to try to get inside all of their heads to cull the competition. It’s why he wanted to win so badly today. A day one winner is going to set everyone on edge. But then she beat him at his own game. All these years, and he still hasn’t figured out how to get inside her head. Although, their first night at The Hard Deck tells her he might be getting close.

“Is he always like this?” Bob asks, looking over his shoulder again.

“What, already bored?” she jokes.

“I wish,” he sighs. “How are we supposed to fly with him?”

Natasha sighs and looks back at Hangman. “We’re not. We’re flying with Rooster,” she says firmly. If Rooster can get his act together because he’s clearly not handling having to work with Maverick well. But she can crack that nut later. Men are so fucking emotional.

Although Bob invites her to head straight to The Hard Deck, she makes up an excuse to go back to the Navy Lodge and promises to meet him later.

The room’s door has barely closed behind her before she’s stripping off her flight suit and undershirt. Her bra and underwear go into the pile of sweaty clothing.

She’s in such a rush that the water is still warming up when she steps into the shower. But she can’t wait any longer remembering the bunch of Hangman’s muscles during their pushups, the trail of sweat glistening along his temple and down his neck. Her fingers work her clit while her other hand squeezes her breast, fingers pinching her hardening nipple. She’s already wet when she lifts her leg onto the ledge of the tub. Fingers tracing along her slit, Natasha gasps and presses her forehead to the tile.

She closes her eyes and imagines that it’s Hangman's fingers pushing into her, simultaneously gratifying and inflaming her need. On overdrive, her brain flickers through his self-satisfied smile watching her mouth fall open with a cry, eyebrows lifting in curiosity before he peels her thighs wider so he can see how deep his fingers fit her, and nostrils flaring when she thrusts her hips up to take him deeper. Green eyes darken and his breath shallows while the pads of his fingers drag and massage her slickness over the demanding bundle of nerves at her core. “What the hell, Phoenix?” he asks huskily, and she thinks about how much she’s always loved the inflection he puts on her call sign.

Fingers are not enough. Natasha clutches her lip in her teeth to soften the desperate moans rising from her throat. She wants him, wants to feel the stretch of him pushing into her, the friction of his thrusts, the frenetic subduction of their hips until he erupts long and deep inside her. And she wants to watch the look of determination on Jake Seresin’s face, track that deep furrow in his brow, the tuck of his lips, and the taut stretch of his cheeks as he forces her careening over the edge.

Abdomen muscles contracting, Natasha hunches and rocks forward winding everything in her tighter and tighter between her thumb on her clit and the fingers pumping inside her. Water splashes into her mouth through her parted lips. She’s abandoned all attempts to be quiet and comes crying out, “Fucking dickhead!”

The fifth time it happens, it’s a surrender.

Riptide lets Natasha’s final curl fall from the flat iron and sets it aside. Carefully, she runs her fingers through her beautiful work until the curls fall exactly the way she wants. Watching Natasha’s face in the handheld mirror, she tugs a few forward over her shoulders.

“Girl, why are you so nervous?” Riptide laughs. She takes a step back and rests a hand on her pregnant stomach. “You’ve known this man how long now?”

Natasha smoothes out the skirt of her sundress. “I know but dating him is different, Rip. Especially long distance.” They haven’t told the Navy yet about their relationship so it’s been nearly six months of trying to spend time together three thousand miles apart in between crazy work schedules.

Bob rolls his eyes, and it’s like watching a mirror version of her. They’re in her bedroom where Riptide has been doing Natasha’s hair and makeup for her date with Jake tonight. He managed to get enough time off to come for the weekend. Bob’s lounging on her bed watching RuPaul’s Drag Race and lending his moral support. “Why? You talk to him every day. At this point, probably more than you talk to me.”

“I love talking to you, Bob,” she reassures him.

“I know you do,” he smirks around a handful of popcorn. “But I’ve seen your texts and you’ve never told me–.”

She whips a pillow at him to shut him up before he can say what he saw. He gets caught between protecting his glasses and the popcorn and sacrifices the glasses to Natasha’s aim. Riptide laughs and unplugs the flat iron before it gets knocked over. “I’m the one walking around with a stomach that screams I had sex.”

“Is that what being pregnant really feels like?” Natasha asks curiously.

“Why? Are you thinking about it?”

Face burning, Natasha looks between Riptide and Bob eyeing her like she has something to tell them. Or Jake. “No! I’m not. We haven’t even…we’re nowhere near that.”

Bob fixes his glasses. “He hasn’t said I love you yet,�� he says quietly. But he doesn’t complain that this is probably what she’s talked to him most about lately. Bob is a saint of a partner.

Understanding dawns on Riptide’s face, and she rubs Natasha’s shoulder. “You know that man can’t keep anything simple.” She has a point. Everything with him needs a touch of drama.

Natasha puts away her makeup while Riptide cleans up from doing her hair. Bob checks his phone. “I think I better head out,” he announces.

“I’ll leave with you,” Riptide decides.

“You can stay until Jake gets here,” Natasha offers. “I’m not doing anything.”

Riptide sets her bag on her shoulder. “It still throws me when you call him that. I’d love to stay but I’ve got some errands I need to run.”

“If you only heard what else they call one another,” Bob mutters under his breath, carefully folding up the blanket he was laying on to avoid getting crumbs on her covers. Natasha’s going to have to be more careful about what she says within his hearing.

She walks them out through the garage. After waving them off, she checks both ends of the street hoping Hangman might get there early but only her neighbor from three doors down drives by. Trying to figure out how to keep herself preoccupied for the next hour, she heads back inside.

Natasha stops in the hall at the sound of music. Dolly Parton sings sweetly and softly, “You waltz right in the door, just like you’ve done before and wrap my heart ‘round my little finger.”

Is that coming from inside her house? She goes toward the living room. Her heart jumps and her hands go to her mouth.

Jake waits in the middle of the room for her with a giant bouquet of her favorite flowers, dahlias in full perfect bloom. His face lights up when he sees her shock. “Surprised, Nat?”

Beyond him she can see that he’s set up a table, lights, and white balloons in her backyard. How long has he been here? “What did you do, Jake Seresin?” she blurts.

He sets the flowers down on the sofa and comes to take her in his arms, swaying her to the music. “Well, to start, I came to see you. ‘Cuz you’re looking better than a body has a right to.” Jake dips her, eyes locked on hers. There’s a simmering intensity in his face that she can’t look away from. “I had all these plans.” He brings her back up, his grip growing tighter to hold her closer. Natasha never wants to leave his arms because suddenly it feels as if he’s holding the whole world in them. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her. “But when I really thought about it, I just wanted you to myself when I told you that we only have three more months of being apart.”

Natasha freezes, staring up at him in disbelief. It’s not what she is expecting or hoping he would say, but it is something she hasn’t considered possible. “How?”

Jake grins. “You know the Navy likes to hurry up and wait so it took a minute before I knew for sure. But one of my buddies from the Naval Academy, he’s the new detailer. A guy out here got deep selected for lieutenant commander so they needed someone to fill his role to which I offered yours truly.”

She throws her arms around him. Only three months! “I can’t wait,” she promises.

He strokes her hair. “Well, I think there’s something else you’ve been waiting long enough to hear,” Jake says softly. She draws back. His expression is unguarded, unusually serious and sincere. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long how much I love you, Natasha Trace, but when there was a chance I could show you that I actually mean it–.”

Natasha groans at his stupidity and pulls him into a kiss that nearly knocks both of them off balance. But he steadies them and tilts her face up to deepen the kiss. Eyes still closed when they come up for air, she scolds, “What part of flying twelve hours to see each other for thirty six every month doesn’t scream I love you dickhead?” His lips part to answer, and she pulls him back in. “Don’t answer that. I love you, too, Jake Seresin.”

“Here you come again, and here I go.”

Every Time It Comes Around

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #hannix #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman x phoenix #phoenix x hangman #phoenix x rooster #rooster x phoenix #natasha trace fic #jake seresin fic #training to post mission

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theblogofdavyjones · 7 months

Text

Pairing: Davy Jones x reader

Requested: @bad-batches-wife

Warnings: None

A/N: I turned this into a headcanon’s list, and I turned this request into an x reader one, that makes it easier for me to write it. I hope that’s okay and you still enjoy!

Request:

Hello when you have some time can you please write some sweet kind fluff moments between Alcesta and Davy Jones?

***

• Davy Jones isn’t one to be affectionate at first, but the more time spent together, the more he becomes softer towards you and that’s also when it’s just the two of you together

• He puts on an act in front of the crew for the sake of his reputation

• It took some time for you to come around and accept that at first, but you’ve learned to understand all the reasons why he has to put on the act in front of the Dutchman’s crew

• Davy surprisingly doesn’t become possessive or obsessive over you, just sincerely protective

• Sometimes when it gets too cold for even just a jacket in your possession, you think about going somewhere warm up until Davy notices your red face, nose, and ears that the cold weather had given you

• It’s right at that time does Davy ushers you back inside but in his quarters as you don’t have your own quite yet

• Davy tends to not allow his soft side for you show in front of the crew, it hasn’t happened until when one day, you have gotten sick with the flu and almost couldn’t keep your balance as your working with the crew and while his organ could be heard playing

• You refuse to report this to Davy Jones as you did not want him to view you as weak. If anything, you do everything possible in order to capture his attention and to help him realize he doesn’t have to worry about you not following orders like some of the others

• Bootstrap notices your sick figure and tries to ask you about it. It took about 45 minutes for you to finally crack and you console in him while begging for him to not mention a word to Davy

• Of course he does exactly that and Davy pulls you aside before asking questions of his own of your wellbeing

• Of course you try to lie and brush it off like it’s nothing and told him you were fine, never better of a matter of fact. But he doesn’t buy it and asks you again but in a stern voice this time

• It’s always obvious when there’s something up with you you’re not telling, he would find out at any cost

• On bad days, when it comes to you, he’s not very affectionate. He doesn’t know how to be but he tries his best and this, his best apparently is to hold you close to him like he’s spooning you and you remain like that until you feel better

• Davy will ask you what’s made you upset, worried that it might be something he did when it wasn’t him at all

• You know it could be anything, so you tell him and almost wished you hadn’t

• Just like Davy does, he lightly growls and says he would take care of that man later after spending a little more time with you. Although you don’t want that art at all, but you know that you cannot tell Davy otherwise

• Still wrapped in his arms, you feel safe enough to fall asleep as you let him hold you and that’s exactly what you did

• When you get sick, he tries to help take care of you and if he can’t be the one to do it for whatever reason, Bootstrap is always sent to check on you and you don’t mind because he was a friend and one of the nicest people you could meet

• Although you wish it was Davy, you settle for it knowing he would be back later that evening to take care of you

• By the time Davy arrives to release Bootstrap, you had already fallen asleep. So he takes a spot next to your side of the bed and waits there until you wake

• Not to mention while holding onto your hand gently with his more human like hand, never with his claw hand

• Sometimes at night, he would tell you stories of his past, but only the happy memories and calypso was never mentioned

• Davy spoke until you had fallen asleep

• Unlike most others, you had no fear of Davy Jones

• No fear but true love

***

Request: open

@theblogofdavyjones

Tags:

@personlovinganime

@imalittleoutthere

@marsswann

@friendlynova

@royisrandom

@always-on-hiatus

@princessofthornsandroses @mypookiebeardavyjones

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just-a-tiny-goldfish · 9 months

Text

Green, fate, music

And now you’re here—the light is gone, night set in, it’s cold and the only sounds to focus on are a lone crickets music and the drip drip of what could either be water or blood. The thought makes you queasy. Her hero’s aren't here. You didn’t think they would be—you’re too far out. There’s no way they would have made it here without some fancy high tech ride or anyway for them to really pinpoint where exactly you two are.

In fact you’re surprised you found her here with you at all.

“Hey”

She glances up. Surprise clear in her doe eyes. She smiles.

And for some reason that annoys you—after having beaten each other black and blue on top of falling into a ditch of your own making and waking up with a concussion—you should really be more tolerable of a small smile.

But the plain sincerity, the honest to god plain sincerity in such a small and kind gesture has your pride puffing up again.

She should count herself lucky you don’t decide to continue your little silent game and instead just give her a half assed grimace before continuing.

“How did you guys know I was gunna be here?”

For a second—you think she might have decided to ignore you, refusing to answer in favor of staring at her hands, contemplative and far away. Maybe your abrasive attitude has finally worn her down, scrubbed that cutesy sugar sweet coating off. Your irritative nature too much for her, should have worn more layers before trespassing; sick of life attitude become viral and infectious, even for someone as clean as her.

But, of course not. She’s better than that.

Way better than you. Miles better.

“We didn’t”

Her eyes meet yours, andthe confusion must be clear as she once again gives you a smile. Much less annoying then the previous ones. This one’s tired and worn. You can get behind that one. Tired and worn smiles are much more familiar. Much more understanding.

“We—well, I had a hunch.” She looks away, you guess the dull rocks that surround you must be easier on her eyes.

“I had a hunch. But I didn’t have enough… information to really say for certain that it was—“ Enough information your ass. She just didn’t want to believe it. Her gaze hardens. You’re happy she’s still not staring at you. You’ve only had her look at you like that once before. Back when you were still green; ‘Lacking empathy’ she had said to you after a mission together. It’s not your fault, why were you suppose to care if a few people got hurt. You’d never had to before.

You didn’t interact with civilians after that though. Don’t say anything if you have nothing nice to say and all that.

“That it was me?”

She looks to you, but that hardened gaze has been left behind instead you just see a tired copy.

“I figured I should keep a eye on you”

“But when? When did you figure it out? I didn’t think I was being that obvious”

“Since that night we snuck out together, remember?” Shes shifted her gaze again, back to the the crumpled in walls.

“You couldn’t sleep…so we went out for esquites instead…”

You can’t find it in yourself to look at her either. Embarrassment flooding you.

“You let it slip that night.”

“Well…I didn’t think I did” you’re telling the truth. What had given it away? What had been your slip up.

You startle at the sound of her aggravated huff. She’s gotten up, by the look on her face her body clearly disliked the idea. There’s barely enough room to move in here anyways. You can barely see her from where you're sitting on the floor, even with being less than five feet from each other.

You startle even more, your eyes wide as you realize what she’s attempting to do. Her bruised body moving slowly as she crouches and squeezes her way over, she must be having trouble seeing too, now that she’s closer you can see how she’s holding out her arms. Feeling the ceiling and the sides.

She sits next to you; her movements slow until finally it seems her knees give out and she plops down next to you with a bang and a noise of pain.

If it weren’t for the fact you already pressed up to the wall, you might have scooted away from her out of pure pettiness. But as it is you’re forced to stay seated right where you are now thigh to thigh with the girl you’ve just tried to beat black and blue. What is more aggravating to you is that you don’t mind all too much.

“You asked me if I was okay”

You turn to her confused.

“What?”

“That’s how I figured it out. Well kinda…”

To your horror she lowers her head to your shoulder. The weight causing you to stiffen, you two hadn’t been this close, or rather, this soft with each other in a while.

“You asked if I was okay—if I was hurt. After the fight. At first I didn’t think anything of it”

You don’t look at her, gaze pointedly straight ahead, but you feel how her lips turn up in a small smile.

“I’d just assumed you saw the fight on tv or something ha, you know? I was actually so giddy that you asked! Haha…it was nice to know you were worried about me” she sounds pitiful.

“But then…well. later when me and…when we were looking over the fight…I realized the one time I got hit had been out of view. There was no way any civilians were around either to take a quick video or snap a shot…so I was left wondering…”

You don’t startle when you feel her head lift but you do jerk when you feel her calloused hand on you cheek. You shut your eyes, tight, when you feel her turn you to face her.

“How did you know?”

Her warm breath so close to you makes you jerk back. Snapping your eyes open to look at her—she’s still smiling. A small and sad thing.

Your own lips turn up in a sick mockery, less smile more snarl.

“You asked if I was hur—“ she repeats.

“I wanted to make sure the hit landed—I wanted to make sure there would be damage!” there’s no whine in your bark now. A warning.

Her smile finally drops. She doesn’t heed it of course.

“Then why—why would you patch me up after?!” The accusation sounds desperate, even to you. The unanswered question as her eyes flick to your lips.

Why had you kissed it better?

You don’t have an answer for her or for you. Because why had you?

“I don’t know!”

You snap at her instead. A cornered animal. All you want to do is bite. You’re scared too.

She’s quiet. You refuse to look at her again; so you don’t expect the hand at your shoulder. Tentative and cautious. You let her give you that small comfort. She must be confused. The real question here is who is more confused, you or her.

Your whole thing was just to infiltrate. That’s all it was supposed to be. Not this sick twist of fate, you weren’t supposed to care about her.

Dignity

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“How can you just push the world out so easily?”

“Because it is easy? It’s easy not to care about what’s happening to others—especially knowing I can’t do anything even if I wanted to”

“But what if you could? How do you know you can’t if you don’t try? You don’t even attempt?” If you don’t exhaust every possible angle, even if that means exhausting you in turn, easy for you fill in in your mind. You don’t know what to say to him.

“I guess I’m just selfish”

He’s silent at your confession.

Is he judging you?

You resist the urge to crawl into his head—give him his privacy. And why should you care in the first place—the thought makes you angry.

You can’t do anything, right?

You kinda hope so now, knowing you could make a difference somewhere, to someone? The thought might drive you mad.

Guilty.

Ugh, you are guilty—you don’t think you’ve ever felt guilty for being selfish.

He’s looking down at his hands. You don’t know what to do, you’re shit at comfort. But fuck, he looks pathetic. Suck up your bastard dignity and scoot over; hip to hip arm to arm resting your head on his shoulder, just barely reaching. You take one of his hand into yours, he hasn’t looked up from them, you feel him relax all the same, feel the pressure as he leans his own head against yours, his breath coming out ragged slightly toying with the baby hairs not glued down with sweat. You sit like that for a while, thumbing along his hands, trailing, tracing, his scars, the cameras don’t focus on them and to your shame you realize you don’t either. It’s hard to imagine someone like him actually having to live with the more grizzly aspects of life. You almost startle when you feel the wet trail on your head. You wish you could fool yourself into thinking the rain finally broke.

OKAY IM TAGGING @ladyshivs and @gonesoft-ish and @iggydabirdkid ya guys don’t have to do it obvi haha but if you do here are the words (I went on a random word generator haha)

Cloudy Sparkle Glass Repulsive

Oh yes! And thanks @wonda-fhr I actually don’t write too much so that’s why I just choose these two since they actually have Somthing going on but I’ll probs never finish them 🤷🏽‍♀️

#this was fun #i DONT actually write that much and these have been sitting in my docs for months #both of these were snatched from something wat bigger ahah #am i playing right?#Sorry you guys get no context haha #i don’t think it’s needed really #fhr

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 2 years

Note

14. kissing each other breathless with Leddie??? Love this 💗

Eddie Munson x OC, Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader, Jealousy, Make Out Sessions, Insecurity, Fluff

Lucy Henderson Masterlist

A/N: This was supposed to be a blurb, but it turned into a thing, because I have (say it with me now) NO SELF CONTROL! Anyway, please remember to reblog and comment. I'm frankly impressed I wrote this much so quickly. This is set well after season 4 in a future where everyone is safe and happy.

Summary: Lucy gets her own taste of the green eyed monster when a new fan gets a little too close to Eddie at the bar.

Word Count: 1.6K

Lucy didn’t like this feeling.

It was like something had crawled up inside her belly and was now desperately trying to tear its way out. It clenched at her throat and boiled inside her veins. It made her want to scream and throw things; preferably something heavy right at the girl Eddie was currently smiling at.

She was smart enough to recognize the emotion pulsing under her skin. Jealousy was an ugly thing and guilt weighed her down, acting as a sinking center to the vortex of anger and insecurity spinning inside her mind.

How many times had she assured Eddie over and over again that he was the only guy for her? They’d talked extensively on how to manage those unwanted feelings, slowly building a real trust and understanding between them. Shouldn’t that trust go both ways?

Eddie had just wrapped up a set. He was the lead guitar of a great band that was finally getting some notoriety. She was proud of him. Of course girls at the bar were going to approach him. Of course Eddie was going to enjoy the attention of fans. He’d earned it. But why did he have to keep smiling like that?

She took a sip of her water, as if somehow that would cool the growing fire in her blood.

The girl wasn’t going away. In fact, she seemed to have only gotten closer.

Lucy had to admit, the girl looked like she fit in, more than she did anyway.

Eddie was sweet enough to let her borrow his band shirts until she could get some of her own. He insisted she looked good in them, but she knew it wasn’t really the case. His lanky frame meant his shirts didn’t translate well onto her more filled out one. The fabric stretched and hit her awkwardly. She wore jeans, but the light color might as well have been neon compared to everyone else’s. She didn’t have any leather to speak of. Her make up was minimal. It was good enough for a small town girl form Indiana, but not a rock club in Chicago. She elicited strange looks and questions like, “you come with your boyfriend?”. Which was true, but she didn’t like the subtext of that question. The big flaring accusation of, “you don’t belong here”.

The girl talking to Eddie belonged. She had a jacket covered with countless patches undoubtedly sewn on herself. Her hair was dark with dyed tips. Her make up was exaggerated. Her stance was confident. Everything about her screamed rock star. She looked exactly like the type of girl Lucy always pictured Eddie being into before they got together.

She shook the thought away. She and Eddie were together. They had been for a while now. They had fought demobats and monsters and nearly died for each other more times then either of them cared to count. If that didn’t make them practically soul mates, she didn’t know what did.

Eddie was laughing.

Shit, he was laughing.

The girl was touching him now, her hand brushing over the black scrunchie around his wrist.

She was up before she even realized it.

Someway, somehow, she pushed through the crowd of people, not even stopping to apologize until she was finally at the bar.

Eddie’s eyes caught her, all warm chocolate despite the dim lighting.

“Hey pretty girl, what’s–”

He didn’t get to finish as Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a desperate kiss.

His response was immediate, his hands finding her waist, acting as a kind of anchor as he half sat, half leaned on the bolted down bar stool behind him.

She pressed deeper into him, earning her a smile and the taste of his mouth. He moaned against her. It was the only thing to sooth the clawing creature under her skin. Screw everyone else here, only she was able to touch him like this. He wouldn’t let anybody else, slip between his legs and kiss him until he couldn’t breath.

A jostle from one of the other patrons trying to get to the bar forced them apart. They each gasped for air and with every breath, Lucy realized exactly what she had done.

“I just came here to watch the bands, not a peep show,” the guy grumbled.

She blushed, but Eddie only beamed, his mouth still wet and swollen from this kiss.

“What can I say man? Good music makes her horny.”

Lucy groaned, smacking his shoulder as she buried her head in his chest. If there was a trap door beneath her, now would be a great time for the bartender to use it. This all seemed like a good idea a second ago.

The guy walked away, leaving her and Eddie as alone as anyone could be in a bar on Saturday night.

He didn’t let her go, wrapping his arms more securely around her as he rubbed his hands up and down her back.

“Hi, by the way,” he said, kissing her temple.

“Hi,” she repeated.

He laughed, before gently nudging her head up so she was finally looking at him.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said, “but what brought that on? Maybe I could do it on purpose next time.”

That sickening guilt came back to her. She looked away, occupying herself with the details of his shirt as her fingers traced absentmindedly up and down his arms.

“You played a really good set,” she said, hoping the half truth would be enough. “You’ve got a couple new fans at least.”

Her fingers lingered on his wrist, and the black scrunchie around it.

It was a little thing that started back at The Hideout. She had heard how, at big venues, girls would throw bras up on stage to performers. In an attempt to make Eddie smile after rocking out a great set to a lackluster crowd, she cheered and sling-shotted her scrunchie right into his face. After a while it just became a thing, something to indicate that she was in the room and rooting for him.

Of course, once the band got more fans, others started doing the scrunchie thing too. Not a lot, but enough for her own to get lost in the shuffle. At first she’d tie a string or maybe a note around hers, but it wasn’t the same. Nowadays, he just grabbed the one out of her hair, and slipped it on his wrist before going on stage as a kind of good luck charm.

He followed her gaze, his brows furrowed for a moment as if putting together an elaborate puzzle in his head.

To her dismay, a wide smile spread across his face.

“Luce, were you jealous?”

“No.” It was an automatic response, and it rang false the second it passed her lips. “Maybe,” she admitted. “A little.”

“A little?”

She sighed. There was no point. She had already made an ass of herself.

“A lot,” she said. “I just…didn’t like her touching you, like that.” God where was a black hole when you needed one?

“I’m sorry."

“For what?”

That surprised her. Looking up, she caught the genuine confusion on his face.

“For making a spectacle of it. I was basically dry humping you into the bar stool.”

“I said I wasn’t complaining,” Eddie countered.

“But that…that’s not the point!” she stuttered. “I love you! And I trust you and I know you feel the same way, so I shouldn’t be marching over here trying to mark my territory like some horny cat or something.”

He laughed. “Okay, first of all, yes. You’re right. You shouldn’t be worried.” He cupped her face, his smile teasing but his eyes were all warmth. “Trust me, you should not be worried.”

She knew that, but hearing it from his own lips somehow made it more real. The grip the creature held slipped a little, allowing her to draw a free breath.

“Second,” he continued, “there are worse ways for you to be jealous. And if you are going to be, I’d much rather it end with you kissing me like it’s the end of the world.”

They each felt the weight of those words. Jealousy was what drove them apart the first time. Yes, technically speaking, Hawkins Lab and evil Russians pulled them apart, but it was that underlying jealousy, that basic insecurity and mistrust that made them unable to speak to each other for almost a full year. It had sucked and neither of them wanted to go through it again.

“And third,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. “It’s kind of nice to know it’s not just me.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips, her nose, her cheek, her jaw and further down until he came to her neck.

Lucy gripped his arms. They were the only things keeping her upright as he hummed in pleasure, nipping at her skin.

Music swept through the bar once more as a new band took center stage to the cheer of the crowd.

Eddie pulled away, his brown eyes now almost black as he took her in.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. Maybe a bit of jealousy now and then wasn’t such a bad thing.

(3/20)

#stranger things #eddie munson #lucy henderson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x henderson!reader #stranger things oc #leddie #eddie munson x reader #5k celebration #5k followers #2022 fic

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