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janitorhutcherson · 5 months

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I love your writing, please please give the world Mike comforting his partner on their period 🙏🏻 that man would be so compassionate but also confused and asking tons of questions so he can explain it to Abby when she’s older

okay so, i'm about to start my period. i can sense it, i'm cramping, i'm going insane, so here is some mike fluff!! i need this, y'all need this, we all need this rn. this isn't great, last min as always :p i promise one day i'll give yall something more quality lol. also am sorry if this isn't exactly what u were lookin' for!! i hope u enjoy :P

word count: 1,298

warnings: mentions of blood (period), swearing

summary: mike takes care of you while you're on your period. completely unaware to how it all works, he does the best he can, trying to educate himself in the process.

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You were in pain. That was one thing you knew for sure. For the past two days, your insides had felt like Satan himself was ripping them out, tearing each part of your uterus into tiny, itty bitty pieces, perhaps even doing a little happy dance on them. As your body was stretched out on the couch, your hand gripping your abdomen, you felt like your life was flashing before your eyes. You'd called off work, waking up feeling worse than you had during that time of the month in a while. You couldn't picture yourself doing much of anything but laying on the couch in the living room of your boyfriend, Mike, and his little sister, Abby, who was much like your own. You'd slept over the night before, opting to stay there as you felt much more comfortable.

Once a month, you became queen bitch, completely insufferable to be around. You were grumpy, sick, nauseous, and aching. You couldn't help it. Your cramps were always amplified more than the average person. Your pain tolerance seemed to get weaker when the time came. With that being said, everyone around you had to suffer the consequences. You and Mike had only been together a few months. Every month, he'd get a little bit better about handling it. The first month, he was slightly standoffish, not sure if his assistance would make things worse or if it would help you. He'd offer you pain medicine, get you water when you needed it, and fetch the heating pad when you cried out in pain. He was always sympathetic, helpless in his inability to make your pain disappear. Mike loved you, and the last thing he wanted was for you to ache the way that you did.

In the following two months, he'd gotten more adventurous, even offering to go out and buy your preferred pads and tampons. Even though he brought back the wrong thing the first time (he brought back the preteen pads, which would not be helpful to your heavy flow), he was sure to correct it the next. With his learning curve coming to an end, Mike was much better with his assistance. Right as your eyes began to flutter closed, the front door to Mike's door flung open, an exhausted Mike walking through, his hair messy and his skin somewhat pale due to his lack of sleep. Although he was working normal human hours now after getting a regular job, the adjustment period was difficult. He somehow felt even more sleep-deprived than before. You slowly sat up, a confused look on your face as you glanced over at the time. It was only noon, which didn't make sense. Mike typically wouldn't be home until around 5:30pm.

"Mike?" you questioned, your voice laced with pain as your head cocked to the side.

"Yeah, baby?" he questioned back, placing three plastic bags from the store onto the coffee table in front of you. He sat beside you on the couch, moving your legs to lay across his lap. He tenderly reached his hand across you, his warm palm slipping under your shirt to touch your aching stomach. He rubbed slow and gentle circles on the tender area, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as it somewhat relieved the pain. "You feelin' any better?" he spoke softly, his tone dripping with sympathy and worry.

"Why are you home? What's in the bags?" You were confused. You didn't mean to sound like a bitch, but the pain was making you somewhat delirious, and the thought of him simply coming home early just didn't occur to you. He chuckled, shaking his head as he playfully rolled his eyes.

"Can you not just let me take care of you for once?" he grumbled, grabbing the plastic bags from the table and placing them gently into your laps. In the first bag, he pulled out a brand new pain reliever bottle and miniature heating pads. They were wireless and single-use. You could stick them into your pants and wear them around wherever you needed. He also pulled out a new bubble bath, lavender scented, that claimed to have infused pain-relieving essential oils. The next bag contained your favorite kind of chocolate, some other kinds of candy, and a little stuffed bear. The bear wasn't any bear, but one that could be heated up and again used as a heating pad. Inside of the same bag, he also pulled out a brand new box of the right kind of tampons and a bouquet of flowers. The last bag contained burgers and fries from your favorite fast-food place, something yummy to get into your aching system.

You watched in awe as he pulled out each item, a sheepish but proud grin spread across his face as he did so. He was proud of himself, mostly because he felt useful, he felt like for once he was the one taking care of you. Mike typically felt like a burden, like he wasn't worth caring for, regardless of how much you attempted to convince him otherwise. Times like these were important to him, times when he could make you feel safe, secure, loved.

"I, uh, heard you this morning. I realized you were in a lot of pain, wanted to do something nice. I took the day off of work, thought I'd surprise you with some stuff to make you feel good. Got us some lunch too, thought maybe we could go lay down in the bed and watch movies, eat some junk together? I'll take real good care of you," he said, scratching at the back of his neck with a hopeful grin. You looked back at him with your own wide grin, the churning cramps in your stomach not subsiding but instead simply not your main focus at the moment. You nodded your head, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

You helped him carry the brand-new goods and the food to the bedroom. You plopped down onto the bed as Mike leaned over you, gently kissing your head. He tucked you into the blankets, ensuring you were nice and warm. He closed the curtains tightly, all too aware of the vision-blurring headaches you got on your period. He put up one finger to signal he'd be right back. Once he returned, he had a glass of water and heated up your brand-new heating pad bear. He placed your wired heating pad onto the small of your back, pressing two kisses to your forehead again. He then insisted you lift your head, helping you to swallow the pills. After, Mike cuddled up next to you in bed.

The two of you watched random movies and TV shows for the rest of the day, his hand seldom leaving your stomach. He constantly had you wrapped up near him. He kept you medicated and fed, refusing to leave your side. Mike was content. Even though you were a bitch during this time, you were appreciative. He loved you and it was clear, he'd do anything to take care of you.

While deep into the show you were watching, you felt a pair of eyes staring into the side of your head. You lifted your head, looking over to Mike with a cocked eyebrow. "Yes..?" you questioned, staring at his somewhat nervous expression.

"Um, do you think, you could maybe explain periods to me? Y'know, all of it, the bloody stuff, the moody stuff.. I just.. wanna be prepared for Abby," he asked sheepishly. A chuckle left your lips as you shook your head.

"Of course, Mikey. I can explain it to you," you hummed, pressing a kiss to his lips before you went into detail, explaining female anatomy to your 25-year-old boyfriend.

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #michael schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson

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buckysbabygorl · 1 year

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Punching Bag (Bucky Angst)

Summary: As much as Bucky can't stand Y/N, he's tired of her taking all the blows on the field. They have to come up with a plan.

Word Count: N/A

“Get your hands off me.”

She shoved him away, as best she could given her state.

“I can do it myself.”

She took the med kit from his hands, in her drunken stupor she stumbled to the dining table, fumbling with the latches on the case.

Bucky was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep after a long—god awful---day and put the mission behind him.

He dropped his mission bag at the doorway.

“All you’re going to do is make it worse. I don’t need you waking up tomorrow complaining about your drunken hack job.”

She glared at him, pulling out supplies.

“Sober or not, I can stitch myself up fine. Just because I’m not an army vet doesn’t mean I don’t know basic field medics.”

She mumbled something more under her breath; probably dick or asshole, some of her common artillery when insulting him.

He didn’t need this. He really didn’t need this right now. Today had been hard, and for Bucky that was saying something. Whether it was being back in Russia, during its coldest and iciest period of the season; or being stuck with the person he loathed the most, he wasn’t sure what had triggered him.

But he was on edge and exhausted, and he wanted this night to end.

Then she had to go and get stabbed of all things, and now this dark hour was dragging on and on and on...

It was then Bucky realized that this sad excuse of a safe house would not give him enough space from her. It was a bachelor style apartment, something small enough that would never catch the eye of enemies, tucked away in an complex that was filled with much more shady individuals that them. There was a kitchenette, a dining table with two chairs, and a couch that pulled out. There was also a rickety old rocking chair, which looked far from comfortable.

This night wouldn't get any shorter.

“Ow.”

She stabbed her self softly with the needle, swaying slightly as she tried to stablize herself.

“Jesus Christ," Bucky said, "did you even wash your hands?”

“Fuck you.” She retorted.

His jaw tensed as he stopped himself from raising his hands, he wanted to tear his hair out strand by strand.

Why was she always so fucking argumentative?

“Would you stop saying that?”

He strode across the room, kneeling in front of her chair and grabbed her arm.

She attempted to pull away from him, which was stupid to do with a needle in hand.

“Let go.” She demanded.

She pulled back, hard, and Bucky gripped her forearm.

“Will you just—enough.” His voice stern and commanding.

She halted, slightly hazey and swaying. But she stopped.

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh.

“For once, can you just shut up and listen? For five seconds, can you do that?”

She blinked slowly at him, pursing her lips.

He recognized that look in her eye; it was always followed by a sly grin, a tilt of her head that said “what are you gonna do about it, Sergeant?”

This time, she slumped back into her chair. She relaxed her arm and used the other to shove the kit towards him.

“Fine. Do your worst. I don’t give a shit if you leave a scar.”

He waited a moment, to see if she’d say something more or change her mind, maybe smack his hand away one more time.

But she didn’t.

So Bucky picked up the needle and went to work.

She didn’t look at him while he stitched her up, remaining in her dead stare as she looked straight at the wall.

She winced a few times but said nothing.

After a few minutes, the quiet made Bucky’s skin itch.

“Why did you jump at her, anyways? I had it covered.”

Y/N closed her eyes, inhaling through gritted teeth.

Responding wasn’t worth the effort, so she shrugged.

“Really? You’re not going to say anything?” He asked.

She groaned. “Does it matter? Not like I can do anything about it now.”

He shook his head, continuing as if he hadn’t heard her. “--And downing a bottle of tequila won’t make you feel better.”

She bit the palm of her hand as he worked his way along her side.

Her breaths stuttered as she inhaled.

“Hurts less.” She mumbled.

He paused a moment.

He remembered what that felt like. How much these kind of things could hurt you. He could imagine the pain she was going through, he could see it in her face. But he tried to ignore it. He was still mad at her.

“I don’t get you. You do this every time, you’re not invincible you know—”

She slammed her hand on the table.

“I know that! Jesus, you tell me every time—AH!”

She pulled away from him, hurting herself as he had tightened a stitch.

He looked up as his hands steadied her, and his voice softened.

“Y/N, sit still...”

Her head was turned away from him, but he could still see the corner of her eye and the downturn of her lip.

He hadn’t realized she’d been crying.

He tilted his head down, biting on the inside of his cheek. Best to just get this over with.

“Just… sit still. I’m almost done.”

They fell into silence again. The winter snow was building up on the safe house windows, the wind pounding against the panes.

He tried to shut it out. But it was either listen to the howling storm or rehash the scenario in his brain.

Her voice came over his ear piece, she told him to watch his six; that agents were entering through the south wing of the building. He ignored her, he had it covered.

She must’ve taken his silence the wrong way; she figured he was in danger. She was like that, she’d assume the worst and abandon her post to cover. Fuck, why did she have to do that…

“Did you get a hold of Sam?”

Surprised by her question, Bucky looked up from his hands. She still wouldn’t turn to face him.

“Called him while I was walking back. Said he can get a jet in a 4 am. With the storm it’s hard to get here—”

She winced again. He groaned.

“Stop moving.”

She awed at the ceiling and clenched her hand into a fist.

“My god, would it kill you to have some sympathy?”

He tied off the suture and snipped the thread.

“I don’t have sympathy for idiocy.”

She scoffed, “Fuck you.”

Which she had said for the umpteenth time today.

He decided to ignore it. But he was still fuming, still angry at her… why, why would she do that?

He should’ve watched his six, he knew he should’ve.

They came up behind him, 4 out of the 6 agents had decided to cover his wing.

He was holding his own, but the one was smart. Patient. Waiting while the others hammered Bucky with brute force to deliver a fatal blow. She had been aiming for his right side, probably trying to stab between his right ribs or his into his spine…

“You know, normal people say thank you.” He nodded to her left side, where 10 stitches sat neatly in line.

“I could say the same thing to you.” Her words were icy, she nearly spat them at him.

Bucky scoffed. “Why should I thank you? I had it covered, you jumped in and now I have to patch your drunk-ass up—”

“I did it because it’s instinct. I saw my partner outnumbered and I saved your ass. Sorry it’s an inconvenience to you because I’m not a goddamn super soldier.”

The slam of his hand on the table made her jump, and her eyes went wide at the thought that he might actually make her shut up for once.

"You can't throw yourself in a fight where you'll get more hurt than I will."

His eyes faltered when he looked at her, "We... we talked about this Y/N--"

Silence fell between them again.

She fumbled with the bottle cap on the table, and Bucky stood still at her side.

He didn't know what more to say, and she didn't know how to respond.

Because he was right, they had talked about this before many times.

There were never tender moments between the two, but the closest they'd ever gotten to something like that was usually Y/N's recovery. They were paired together more often than not; aside from them loathing one another, they were extremely compatible.

But each time they teamed up, something like this happened.

Y/N would get stabbed, she'd get shot, she'd break a bone or two, she'd pick a fight that was out of her depths.

He'd get mad and so would she, then a day or two would pass and he'd watch her struggle with something. Whether it was taking the stairs, or doing her physio, or getting back into training...

Somehow they'd end up alone and they fell back into this same conversation.

You can't always put yourself at risk for me, I know you're skilled but there's situations where you need to be more careful.

She'd sit with it, and usually come back with the same response.

I know you're capable of taking more than most people, but it doesn't mean you get to be a punching bag. If my partner is in trouble, I'm going to step in.

There was never a solution made, because he was the immovable object and she was the unstoppable force.

In short, they were both too stubborn and too proud.

Normally, she wouldn't bring it up. But feeling brave, or drunk enough to be brave, she did.

"We're going around in circles, Barnes."

She didn't look up from the table, but he continued to stare.

"We can't fight about this every single time we go on a mission. We've requested to be separated, and that's not happening. So tell me what the fuck you want me to do, because I'm not just gonna take a seat every time it gets ugly."

He sighed, "What I'd like you to do is not be an idiot out there--"

"Hm," She took another drink, "And I'd like you to stop being an asshole."

His jaw clenched again. Every time with this girl...

"Do you not see where I'm coming from?" He gestured to her ribs, "Look at you, Y/N. How many scars is that now? From our missions alone?"

She shook her head, fiddling with the cap.

"I don't know Barnes, that's not the point."

She did know, it was nine now.

"The point is I'm not going to change my mind and neither are you. So figure it out with me instead of fighting me every chance you get. Pick a different fucking solution."

It seemed Bucky couldn't stop sighing, he wanted to walk away from this night and be done with it. But he knew they'd be back in this position a month from now, and a month after that, and so on.

So, begrudgingly, Bucky sat down at the table.

"Fine. If you won't stop being reckless--"

"--And you won't stop being a dick--"

He pointed at her, "Okay first. Stop doing that. I get you're frustrated but you swear at me a lot. I hate it. It feels like you try to pick a fight."

She went to speak, but all she could think of were insults involving curse words. He'd proven his point.

Her lip curled in a scowl, "Fine."

He nodded. "Okay."

She shifted to sit with her arms crossed on the table, eyes flicking up to him.

"Stop telling me I'm an idiot. And stop saying I'm reckless. You think it's reckless 'cause I'm not Steve or Thor, or whoever else was enhnaced on the team... just because I'm not like you guys doesn't mean I'm being stupid when I'm out there."

God, he wanted to fight her on that.

Different capabilities meant different actions in certain situations, at least in his eyes.

But he kept it to himself, at least they were starting to work on something.

"Okay..." He drew out the word, subtly saying he wasn't okay with it, but Y/N didn't care.

He could think what he wanted, but he didn't get to throw it in her face every time he wanted.

"I can't control what you do on the field." Bucky started, "You make your own calls and you... you know what you're doing out there."

Y/N smirked at the look of pain on Bucky's face, she know he hated to admit it. But she was damn good at her job.

"--but if there's a situation that I think you need to stay out of, respect me when I ask."

"What if I think I can handle it?" She questioned.

He lifted his hand off the table slightly, halting her to let him finish.

"If I need you, I'll tell you."

She rolled her eyes, "So I'm supposed to wait until my coach puts me in?"

His fists balled in frustration. "No, I'm saying be there but..."

He leaned back in his chair, looking up to the ceiling.

"I don't know, maybe we have a call sign when we both need each other."

He said that to appease her, he didn't think there would ever be a time he'd need her, but maybe she would need him. And at least it would keep her from jumping in and getting sliced to bits.

She snorted, "What, like a safe word?"

He huffed slightly, "I guess so, yeah."

That seemed to be enough conversation for her, as she stumbled out of her chair and clambered over to the musty pull out couch in the corner. She was still nursing that damn bottle in the crook of her arm.

Bucky sat, somewhat surprised that that was the end of it.

"I'm tired." She mumbled as she slipped onto the mattress, kicking her go-bag onto the ground.

I guess I'll take the floor, Bucky thought.

He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug, his words laced with contempt. "Any thoughts on the safe word?"

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling the early effects of a hang over.

"Yeah," she muttered, "Punching bag."

Bucky waited for more from her, but after a few moments of silence, her snoring began and he accepted that as the end of their conversation.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

He accepted his place in the awful rocking chair, but not before picking the bottle of tequila out from beneath her.

He took one final look at his patch up of her ribs, before settling into his seat, eagerly waiting for Sam's arrival.

They didn't speak more of their truce after that night, but there had been an unspoken agreement on both ends to keep their promise.

They'd be less hostile towards one another; and they'd work their roles independently during missions unless someone asked for help.

And, oddly enough, their "safe word" popped up more and more with each mission. It was easier than saying the words "I need your help", because both were so stuck in their pride to ever admit that. But "punching bag" worked just fine.

In fact, they had gotten so comfortable using it during their duo missions, that it became an oddity to the rest of the Avengers in team missions.

"Barnes, what's your location?"

"Intersection of Francis Street and Main."

"I'm west of Francis by one block. Alice Street. Punching bag."

Within less than a minute, he was there.

It was rare for Bucky to use it, but every so often he had.

One time, it had been used because Bucky's metal arm had adhered to the FOD magnetic sweepers of their combatant's tank.

Y/N had laughed when she arrived, but never brought it up afterwards.

That was another thing, an interesting development so to speak. In its month's of usage, "Punching bag" somehow became "come, no questions asked."

Sam, Joaquin and Sharon had all taken notice of this new addition to their lingo; but decided not to press it. Ever since it had been implemented, the two were actually getting along. Sam would argue they were somewhat friendly with one another.

It was a peaceful three months since their Russia mission, and the team was going to ride it out as long as they could.

Bucky felt numb. Which was bad, because usually that led to an anger spiral or a drawn out dissociation episode. Neither were good options for him.

It was a bad day. A really fucking bad day.

He had called his therapist, but at the fourth call with no answer, he had assumed she was asleep.

Of course she was, it was 2 in the morning.

Bucky tried to remember what she had taught him; their so-called "game plan" when things went south.

He didn't want to listen to music, he had tried going for a walk, he had tried using that dumb journal she recommened he'd buy but he couldn't write anything down.

Call someone, she had said, your line of work has a select few that understand what you're going through. And those select few happen to be your friends, you can lean on them . That's what they're there for.

He had hovered over Sam's contact for—about—15 minutes. But he didn't want to.

Some nagging feeling in the forefront of his mind pulled him back, to lean towards someone else.

He scrolled down, clicked the contact, and sent a quick message.

Punching bag.

And then he waited.

Bucky had left his location on in their group comms chat, and Y/N was surprised to see that he was in his own apartment.

Her mind jumped to an intruder holding Bucky hostage in his own home; or him being kidnapped, leaving his phone behind and it was the last message he had been able to send before being taken away.

She got paranoid like that. She was working it out in therapy, or whatever.

Bucky rarely used their safe word, which she resented him for, but when he did she knew it was serious.

She was there in 10 minutes.

Bucky heard shuffling outside his door; as stealthy as she was, he had the fortune of super-soldier hearing.

Then she gave their call sign, an additional one that was in early development. One knock, a pause, then four knocks.

You're, one syllable, an id-i-ot, four syllables

He'd respond back with two hard knocks to signal it was clear; two syllables for "fuck you".

Apparently their old habits died hard.

He had left the door unlocked, and she entered slowly.

With a quick scan of the room, she deemed the coast was clear. Even more surprising considering the text she had received less than 15 minutes ago.

She looked at him with question, "Our safe word is usually for emergencies, y'know."

He nodded, but said nothing.

She pursed her lips, more confused but coming in regardless.

"...Alright."

She slipped off her coat and kicked off her boots. She found it odd to see him on the floor, then noticing the pillow and blankets laid out on the hardwood, she realized that's how Bucky slept.

Late at night, she put two and two together; he'd tried to sleep and couldn't.

She folded her coat and sat down across from him.

She stayed silent, patiently waiting for him.

He continued to say nothing.

She waited for a few minutes longer, prompting him to give some sort of explanation for his text.

But again, nothing.

She clapped her hands once on her knees, and stood up. Bucky panicked, fearing she would leave---

"You got back at 10, right?" She asked.

Bucky was taken aback by her knowledge of his returning home, but nodded after his pause.

She hummed, "Okay. Have you eaten?"

"Uh--" Bucky thought for a moment, realizing he hadn't. "--No."

She nodded. It was a start.

"Okay. Then uh---I'm gonna get you some food."

After digging through the cabinets whilst Bucky sat on the floor, she mustered her supplies; butter, cheese, and bread.

Grilled cheese wasn't the fanciest of meals but considering the situation, it would have to do. Besides, she didn't know how to cook anything else.

5 minutes later, a plate plopped down in front of him, and she sat cross-legged as she started on her sandwich.

He watched her for a moment, before she looked up at him with a mouthful.

"Don't let good eatings go to waste Barnes," she wiped crumbs from her lips, "I put my blood, sweat and tears into this meal."

Shockingly, even to himself, Bucky laughed. And then he ate.

"I would've added onion," She said, "But you don't seem to have... many ingredients in your fridge, Buck."

He was surprised at her wanting to use onion, and even more surprised at her usage of his first name. But he let the latter slide.

"Onion?" He questioned.

She sent an odd look back at him, "What? You've never had onion in your grilled cheese?"

When he shook his head no, she went into a ramble.

"My god, you're missing out. I'll tell you this; one time, my Pops went into this diner, you see--"

Bucky felt himself smile as she went on, telling a story of her grandpa recommending the restaurant make it a special of the day, "grilled cheese with onion", and how it had been such a hit with the locals, that they gave her grandpa a free grilled cheese every day from that day on. Which was how she knew how to make it.

She told more stories about her grandpa, then about her family, and Bucky realized he'd never heard more about her in one sitting. In fact, he realized he had known nothing about her personal life the entire time they had been working alongside eachother.

He sat happily listening, grilled cheese in hand, and even took her up on seconds as she continued to talk.

Y/N figured that, sometimes, that's what someone needs. To fill the silence, to feel the normal, especially on days that were less than good.

And eventually, the other person would start talking too.

People need distraction. Sometimes they need to talk, they need advice, or they need help and action. But when someone needs you, and they can't find the words, talking of nothingness can be the best thing.

Y/N could be good at that, something Bucky never knew about her. And, something Bucky never knew he liked.

A silence fell over them, but not like before. Not the tense words-unsaid sort. But comfortable. She washed dishes and he sat on the floor.

She flicked her hands at the sink before drying them, Bucky wondered if she did that all the time.

"So," She said, "do you want to talk about it?"

The question might have been jarring to others, but to him it wasn't. Bucky just shrugged.

"I don't think so."

He didn't need to, he thought. This was enough.

She nodded. "Okay. Do you want me to go?"

He was shaking his head before he knew it, and she smirked.

Not the spiteful one she used to adorn with him, but more of a cheeky one. One a friend might give to another.

"Alright. Do you want me to stay?"

He picked at his ratty blanket he had tucked beside him.

"Kinda." He thought before adding, "If you don't mind."

She checked her watch, "I've got nowhere to be."

She said something about a deck of cards, and went to search his house, which for some reason he didn't mind.

She found a deck, Bucky hadn't known he owned one.

"So, I'm gonna teach you how to play King's Corners, kick your ass at King's corners, and then we're gonna talk about this bed situation which is unacceptable..." she trailed off in her teasing, and Bucky found himself laughing more.

She did teach him how to play, and he ended up kicking her ass, which she claimed was beginner’s luck.

She stayed all night.

More nights like that began to happen, sometimes Bucky spoke and sometimes he didn't.

Sometimes they fought, most times they didn't.

The fights happened less and less. The all-nighters happened more and more.

And Bucky noticed more things he liked. More than her grilled cheese, more than her comfortable ramblings, and soon he found there were more things he liked than not.

She trusted Bucky to hold his own on the field, and he tried not to be as protective of her, letting her choose her own actions. They found out that was what he was afterall, and she realized she had been too.

She had been staying longer and longer. The next thing they knew, she wasn't leaving at all.

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @agni-l @niiight-dreamerrrr @julipmoon @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes @emmabarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barns imagine

3K notes · View notes

sinsatmidnight · 3 months

Text

30 Years Later

Pairing – Kim Minji (JiU) x Male Reader

Words - 3101

Sins – Smut, oral, sumata, shower sex

So...it's been a while. I have not been keeping up with what goes on Tumblr, I have to admit, and nor have I read any (most? I may have read a couple during this period) of the many stories that people have started after I stopped. I'm inevitably rusty, but I had this draft I started a long while back that I somehow got into the mood to finish, so I figured I may as well post it, just for fun. Maybe someone will enjoy it. Hopefully you like it if you read it! And no, I don't expect a significant uptick in activity from me, but I may pay more attention to some of the other stories being written. Working on this was not quite the healthiest thing (because uh, I may have overused a certain part of my body the last couple of days) and let's just say one of the reasons I'm posting this is because it already had a significant bit written. But I kinda wanna subject myself to more of this...abuse(?) now. Ugh I'm rambling, but anyways, hope everyone has a good day (or night)!

(2130 hours, 20 September 2220, Eternity)

It started out muffled. The droning sound breaking into your consciousness, jolting it to life. You have no idea what it is. Or where you are, for that matter. Your eyes are closed. But your ears are sharper now that your mind is actively concentrating on listening.

A voice. Female. You can’t make out words but she sounds calm. And then your eyes slowly open, almost as though forced open by an outside force. That’s when you remember.

“Condition is stable, consciousness gained, cryo pods are opening.” That calm, droning female voice comes through clear to you now. There is a soft hiss as the transparent door of your cryo pod slides to the side. The light outside your pod is quite soft, and yet at the moment to your eyes, it is blinding. Disoriented by your awakening, you lay in the gel bed as you try to get your bearings.

“Eden? Status update…oh, and what is the current date and time?”

The ship’s AI, Eden, responds in the electronically generated calm tone that all shipboard Ais use. “Welcome back, Commander. All of the Eternity’s systems are currently running optimally. All crew members are in good health. It is currently 2130 hours, 20 September 2220.”

Your mind does the math easily despite just coming back from the induced cryo-sleep. Thirty years. Well, that would be right. Crew members were supposed to be woken up after thirty years to run manual checks on the ship’s condition and look over all data collected automatically by ship sensors and the AI. They stay up for two weeks and then go back into cryo-sleep. And after the first thirty years, this is repeated every five years.

Your mind remembers that crew members aren’t woken up alone, they’re normally woken up in pairs as an additional safety measure. One person who can handle technical or mechanical issues on the ship, which in this case is you, and one more person who is medically trained to check on the sleeping crew and in case of medical emergency.

Your gel bed is softening; rapidly melting as you defrost and becoming less of a gel and more of a slime. A marvel of human technological ingenuity; the clear gel froze quickly, was non-toxic in case of accidental ingestion, while also serving as a shock-absorbent and anti-bacterial bed for cryo-sleep.

You need to get out and check who else was awakened with you. As your hands reach and hold on to the sides of the pod, you realise that you have an erection. Your mind immediately jumps back thirty years prior, to the minutes right before the crew enter cryo-sleep. It might have been from thirty years ago, but those are your last waking memories and they feel like just minutes ago instead.

You remember undressing before you enter your cryo pod; cryo-sleep has to be done naked and trying to unpeel clothing frozen to a person for years is painful. And that was when your eyes caught sight of the occupant of the pod opposite you.

With long dark hair and incredibly kissable lips, combat medic Kim Minji drew attention wherever she went. She was tall, gorgeous and had a body that drew a reaction from your own. As you watched her unzip her white bodysuit and slip out of it, stripping off her underwear and getting naked, you felt the blood rush to your penis and you were glad that she was too preoccupied with her own cryo-sleep preparations to look over at you. You ended up getting frozen before your erection could soften.

Back in the present, another female voice that definitely wasn’t Eden’s cuts into your thoughts. “You’ve had that for thirty years, Commander?’

As you stumble out of the pod, the melting gel dripping all over the floor, your eyes immediately catch sight of Kim Minji’s naked body standing outside her pod, the clear slime dripping off her body and giving it a shimmering sheen under the soft white lights of the cryo chamber. You quickly realise two things: that Kim Minji is your medically trained partner that you’re going to be alone with for the next two weeks and that your erection won’t be going down anytime soon despite your embarrassment at getting caught. You technically outrank her, but that doesn’t matter when there’s just two people awake on the ship.

Minji’s gaze is fixed upon your groin and very obvious erection and a smirk plays on her red lips. “Oh, Minji, I-“

Before you can think of an excuse, Minji cuts in. “Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I’ve never had a guy have a boner for me for that long.”

You smile sheepishly and try to change the subject. “Let’s go wash up before we start work.” At the far end of the cryo chamber was the doorway to another smaller room. A shower chamber with a row of showerheads which to wash off the slime with warm water before you got dressed. There were no partitions, they didn’t bother with them, given that everyone is naked in the cryo chamber anyway. And anyone outside the showers can see into them, given that the walls and doors are made of transparent shatter-proof glass.

You drip clear slime onto the silvery metallic floor beneath your bare feet and the metal doesn’t feel cool to your touch, but given that you were completely frozen minutes ago, that’s understandable. The two of you make your way towards the shower chamber, walking past the other cryo pods which stand up at 45-degree angles, glancing at the naked bodies of other crew members stored in cryo-sleep within them. The water from the shower feels warm to you, a nice comfortable temperature. Minji is next to you, the water flowing over her naked and fit body. It's not helping your erection. Her voice cuts into your thoughts. "I can feel some slime on my back still, could you help me scrub it off?" You hesitate for a moment but then your hand reaches forward and runs over her smooth back, swiping the slime off. You feel Minji's body shiver at your touch, and she lets out a soft moan.

You are sure that your erection is pointing straight up now. Not that it wasn't before, but this situation is just prolonging it.

"Oh, that's nice. Can you do it a little lower, please?" She asks, and your hands move further down. Your hands are caressing her pert ass now, the soap lather coating it and making it feel smooth. Minji is letting out soft moans and you are enjoying touching her. As you wash her ass, your fingers stray between her legs, rubbing against her dripping vaginal folds. She is wet and it is not the water causing this.

"You're doing a great job, Commander. But there's a lot more I need you to wash for me." You turn her around so that she is facing you. You look into her eyes and she is biting her lower lip. Minji has a perfect pair of breasts, firm but soft and a nice handful. They are covered with soap lather now and you find your hands moving forward to massage her tits. You pinch her pink nipples, feeling her tremble as you touch her. Minji leans into you, her wet body pressing against yours. She feels hot to the touch, as though her temperature has gone up.

"Look, I really feel like I should help you with that boner of yours." Minji whispers breathily. "Can I do that for you, Commander?" She has already reached down and taken your hard length in her hand, her thumb rubbing the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had gathered. She gives your cock a gentle tug, and it takes all of your willpower to not cum on her right then and there.

"Fuck, Minji, that's- that's fine." You let out an odd mix of strangled gasp that ends in a muttered assurance, as her soft hand continues to firmly stroke your erection.

"Thanks, Commander. I appreciate it." Minji presses those incredibly kissable red lips up against yours, and her tongue hungrily comes out to play. You reciprocate, even as your hands are busy continuing to explore her body. Her hands, on the other hand, are one of the most pleasurable experiences you’ve ever had as your wet cock is deftly and smoothly pumped and stroked.

With a wink, Minji drops to her knees, the water from the showerhead splashing her face and wetting her long hair. She presses her tits together and wraps them around your throbbing shaft.

It feels good and your body instinctively thrusts forward, your hips rocking back and forth, fucking her breasts. Your balls are tensing up, and you can tell you aren't going to last long. It is smooth and slick between her breasts and the tip of your cock is rubbing up against her lips with her tongue comes out to tease the tip. Your eyes stare at her as she looks back at you and with a smirk, Minji parts her lips, taking the head of your cock into her mouth.

The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive head, licking up the precum that continues to leak. Then, she starts bobbing her head forward and back, taking more and more of your shaft into her mouth, eventually releasing your cock from between her tits. Minji hums contentedly as she sucks and swallows your cock, and her hand is wrapped around the base, pumping you in time with the movements of her head. Minji’s other hand has drifted between her legs, and she starts to furiously masturbate as she blows you. Her slender fingers plunge in and out of her leaking vagina as she keeps her thumb vigorously rubbing her engorged clit.

As you lock eyes with the gorgeous medic on her knees in front of you, she gives you a sultry look, her lustful eyes peering into yours as she sucks you off. Minji’s expert tongue swirling around your shaft and the vibrations of her moans as she takes your dick deep into her throat very quickly becomes too much for you. Your hands need to grab something, to get control.

Your fingers run through her long hair and roughly grab hold of her head, pulling her towards you as you thrust into her mouth hard. You hear her gag a little, but she doesn’t stop with her movement. You feel the pressure building up, and your hips are moving of their own accord. Your cock is hitting the back of her throat, and your balls are tightening.

With a moan, you cum in her mouth. Thick spurts of cum erupt from your dick and fill her throat. She swallows it all, and stands up, licking those red lips. "That was tasty. It’s not every day you get to taste cum stored up for thirty years."

You barely register her words, breathing heavily. That was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your cock is still hard, but Minji is seemingly satisfied. For now.

Or maybe not. She steps away from you, and turns around, bending over. Her shapely ass is facing you, and her pussy is glistening. She looks back at you and wiggles her hips. "Can you help me clean down here too, please?"

You can't refuse Minji’s request. You have to return the favour, after all. You move towards her and rub her pussy. It is dripping wet, and her juices are flowing freely. You stick a finger inside her and feel her walls clench around it. She lets out a gasp, and pushes her hips back, as if wanting more.

"Oh, I really need it, Commander." She pants, as you continue to finger her. You pull out, and she lets out a groan. "Why did you stop?"

"Just making sure you're ready for me." You reply as you give her pert ass a quick spank, drawing a low moan from the medic. You position your cock at her entrance and push inside her.

She gasps and whimpers as you enter, and you feel her pussy walls tighten around your shaft. You start to thrust into Minji’s soaked pussy, and she groans while pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. You grab her hips and pull her closer, helping her out in an attempt to get ever deeper inside her. She cries out in pleasure, as you fuck her as hard and fast as you.

It doesn’t take long before you are getting close to climax, and she is too. You can feel her walls tightening around your shaft, and her breathing is getting faster. You grip her hips tightly and pound her harder.

"Commander!" She moans, as she orgasms. Her juices flow over your cock, and you can't hold back any longer. You pull out of her and explode all over her ass and back, creating a sticky mess there. And then you plop down on the ground, all this exertion so soon after coming out of cryo-sleep has taken a lot out of you.

You both pant, catching your breath. Minji crawls over and kisses you deeply. "Thanks, Commander. I can't wait to work with you for the next two weeks." You can only nod breathlessly in response, your tongue wrestling with hers. Minji breaks the kiss and stands up, with her back to you. “Well, going to need your help with this mess here. Your fault, so you clean it up, sir.” Your gaze goes over her cum-glazed skin and you stand up to grab a sponge from the side of the room, lathering it up with some body wash from a dispenser. You start to work on cleaning her up, using the sponge to get your semen off her skin. But Minji is inherently distracting. It is clear whenever you touch her that she is affected by it. You hear some sighs of pleasure, even the occasional whine when your hands leave her.

This inevitably affects you and you are somehow hardening again down below. You make a split-second decision and suddenly press Minji's wet body up against the wall. You swiftly follow that up by sliding your semi-erect dick in between her soaked creamy thighs. You start to thrust in between her thighs, making sure that you brush against her pussy fold throughout.

"Oh, you're naughty, sir." Minji pants lustfully. You can feel the warmth of her vagina radiating through your thrusting member. You are quickly erect once more. This feels even better than her sucking and giving you a titfuck. "How is this, Minji?" You whisper into her ear.

"Fuck, Commander. That's… that's really good. Really, really good." She whimpers breathily, her body pushed up against the transparent wall, tits first. Your cock continues to slide between her thighs, teasing her pussy. You are both covered in soapy suds, the water from the shower spraying and splashing on the both of you. Her skin feels silky smooth and slippery to the touch. With each thrust, her ass and thighs clap loudly. You reach forward and fondle her tits, her nipples hardening and her breathing quickening. You keep thrusting, enjoying the feeling of her soapy thighs wrapped around your shaft. Minji is moaning and gasping with each thrust, and her breathing is getting faster.

Her legs are trembling, and her juices are flowing freely, mixing with the soap suds and water. Your balls slap against her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, her whole body shaking. You reach forward and grab her wrists, pinning her to the glass wall. She lets out a moan and arches her back. You kiss her neck and shoulders and continue to fuck her soapy thighs. She is whimpering and moaning with every thrust, and her juices are flowing freely, making her inner thighs and your cock very slick and slippery.

Your thrusting becomes faster and more urgent. Minji is definitely close to climaxing; you hear her moans and whimpers are getting less coherent and more urgent; you’re sure you catch some lust fuelled whining and babbling about wanting your cum and something about being fucked hard. Your cock is slamming against her pussy, and her walls are clenching around it, her juices leaking out. She is breathing heavily, and her legs are trembling.

You release one of her hands and guide it down to her clit, prompting her to start rubbing it furiously. Her fingers are a blur, and her moans become louder and more urgent. You continue to fuck those soaped-up milky thighs of hers, and she is practically screaming in pleasure, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower room. Not that you had to care about anyone hearing you. You did have an odd sort of audience in the rest of the crew outside in cryo-sleep, just beyond the transparent wall you have pressed Minji against.

Your cock is twitching and pulsating, and you can feel the pressure building up. You are both close to that final edge, and the only sounds are your heavy breathing, the splashing water, and the loud clapping sound of her ass and thighs slapping against your cock and balls.

You thrust forcefully into her thighs a few more times, and then you erupt. Your thick, creamy load sprays onto her thighs and the transparent wall, coating them in your semen. Her body shudders, and she cries out, reaching her own climax. Her juices flow over your shaft, and she slumps down, exhausted. You follow suit and collapse next to her. You both lie there for a while, trying to catch your breath. You do catch out of the corner of your eye, that Minji takes a few licks of your cum from the wall.

The two of you eventually manage to finish your shower and dry up, with you eyeing Minji the whole time as she puts that white bodysuit back and zips it back up. She catches your eye, bites her lip, and then smirks naughtily. You’re both relieved and regretful that your cock is worn out and needs rest. That would have brought it back up. You and Minji are both very well aware that you don't actually have much to do over the next couple of weeks, other than the occasional diagnostic check of the ship’s systems and such. The ship’s AI, Eden was there to handle the heavy lifting. And so, you're very much looking forward to the next couple of weeks alone with Minji.

#male reader #reader insert #dreamcatcher jiu smut

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lilystyles · 4 months

Text

gingerbread at midnight.

part one of the sweetest thing series by @lilystyles

the sweetest thing masterlist & my main masterlist xxx

authors note did somebody say christmas fic szn??? if there is two things people know about me it is that i love christmas and i love harry styles. so here u go!

brief description during a chilly evening at the bakery, harry learns how to make gingerbread.

warnings! fluffy christmas baking including niall :) (4.3k words)

grumpy!roommate!journalist!H x sunshine!baker!roommate!reader

* * * * *

It was a snowy December evening and Harry finished work early for a change. Being a busy journalist who worked for one of the biggest media companies in the world, he never finished before the sun went down. Even before he’d been promoted to his high position now, and he was just some young fresh-faced Uni graduate assistant who rarely saw the light of day. Waking up early and finishing late. He was always running off much less sleep than your average person, and even when he was at home he was busily typing away on his laptop. But despite his strenuous hours and stressful workload, he loved his job a lot, and openly admitted he was a workaholic.

This was why he needed a roommate. He worried for his sweet girl while he was away during the evenings.

At first, he couldn’t think of anything worse, he’d had roommates in Uni who literally made him want to pull his (gorgeous) hair out and swore to himself he’d never do anything like that again if he could avoid it. It wasn’t that his job didn’t pay well, in fact, he was very wealthy and he could’ve gotten a sitter for the days but it just didn’t seem practical to have a sitter every day for the rest of his life. And no, his sweet girl was not a partner to crawl into bed with during the evenings, or a child who needed his attention throughout the day.

His sweet girl was his spotted Dalmatian named Peaches, who got lonely during the long nights he’d stay at the office.

Y/n had been the perfect candidate for a roommate. Who he had met through a mutual friend Niall, they went to school together apparently and Niall worked with her now. He vouched that she was easy to live with. There had been a period of time when he had nowhere to go and Y/n let him live rent-free in her flat for a month until he could afford to get back on his feet. She was stupidly kind and generous, sometimes to a fault, but if you had the privilege of her friendship you were so lucky. When Niall explained to Harry what a good person she was Harry believed him. Niall had this great ability to see people’s true intentions, and when he looked at Y/n he saw a beacon of light coloured like spun gold.

Y/n worked for most of the week too, sometimes on weekends if they needed extra hands or she felt like going in, but her hours were flexible despite being a baker, which was unusual for her occupation. But she had a good group of workers who all loved their jobs even if it wasn’t exactly high-paying to work for her, which meant Y/n’s day-to-day life was pretty breezy. And during Harry’s hunt for roommates when Niall mentioned that this friend looking for an apartment with roommates happened to be a girl he was happy, because girls were usually clean and smelt good. Y/n very much smelt good and left a warm touch to the once cold large apartment. Quickly after she started living there, suddenly vases of flowers appeared everywhere, paintings were strung up on his grey walls, hand-knitted rugs found their way onto the couch, food was baking in his oven and Y/n’s contagious warmth filled every room. Harry had grown up with just his mum and sister and there was something he liked about having a feminine touch that made it feel homely. He liked how soft, caring, and gentle they were. Y/n was so sweet, whenever he had a bad day she made a tea and let him complain for however long he needed. And she and Peaches got on great, Y/n took her for long walks in the park near their flat and sometimes she even took Peaches into her work and the gorgeous pup would just sit in the front greeting customers.

The tires of Harry’s car rolled against the snow as he steadily drove through the busy middle of the city to the familiar route of Y/n’s bakery. She’d ran it for a couple of years now, having bought it fresh out of culinary school. It used to be a bookshop that was owned by a lady called Miss Green, now it was called ‘Sweets & Things’ and very successful with all the locals. Before they’d became roommates and he’d even known of her existence Harry remembers eating a particularly delicious danish pastry with blueberries in it, funny that a few years later his roommate made him fresh ones when he’d had a particularly rough day at work.

During the Christmas season the little bakery picked up a lot more. Y/n found herself catering for lots more events starting from October and she didn’t know why but people seemed to need more sweets around this time of year. Halloween needed lots of cookies and sweets, but something about Christmas drove her sales right up. Maybe it was what got them through the bleak winter weather. And since Harry knew she’d been a bit stressed by it all lately, not that she would ever complain that wasn’t her way because she loved her job and was grateful to live out her dreams, he thought it might be nice to drop her some dinner since she’d been neglecting proper meals during the work week.

He picked up some takeaway from this little mexican place near his office, Niall had raved about it a few times now, he got an array of food from the menu and asked what they thought was best. Now he had three big bags of spicy smelling goodness heating up his backseats. He knew that Niall and Y/n would be eternally grateful and Harry wouldn’t mind eating with their company tonight. He forgot not everyone ate takeaway at their desk in the pitch black like he did.

His car pulled up out the front of Sweets & Things and he saw the golden bright lights were still on in the front area of the bakery, but no one was behind the counter manning for costumers. Snow littered the grass and concrete out the front, all the benches people sat at were caked in a thick layer of white and Harry shivered at the sight of outside. His office heaters were broken so he was actually always sweating, no matter the season.

He parked his car lethargically and the sound of Fleetwood Mac cut off with the engine. He knew that the bakery stayed open until nine during the holiday season since Y/n had been working much later than normal and he’d asked about it, Harry checked his watch, and there was a little bit until they would shut down but it didn’t seem all that busy. And his friends deserved to eat after all.

He locked the car and walked along the path shivering and hugging the food to his body in attempt to warm himself up. He wiped his dress shoes against the welcome mat as he pushed the door with his broad shoulder, his dress shoes clicking on the tiles as he entered the bell above the door rang and he heard Y/n’s soft sweet laugh from behind the counter and footsteps. A warmth wrapped around his body and the smell of sweet baking and pastries filled his nose.

The shelves with glass casing showed to be practically empty of sweets. This made him smile. Y/n always felt particulary chirpy when people liked her new creations of the week.

He felt his face start to warm up now and he sighed to himself.

“Hello! Welcome to Sweet & Things, what can I get y—” Y/n’s voice began in her usual script to customers stopping when she saw him, “Oh, Harry! What are you doing here?!”

She rushed around the counter to come give him a cuddle in greeting. That was something about Y/n that took him a while to get used to, she was very physically affectionate. He opened his arms for her and held her happily.

She looked cute as ever. Dressed in an apron that was covered in all sorts of powder and a little pink blouse that hugged her figure, paired with her favourite well-loved Levi’s, her shoes were these dark pink boots that made little clicks on the tiles. She looked beautiful, despite the fact she was running off less sleep than usual, she’d been here since the early morning and was probably very tired by now. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she’d thrown back with a pen and her face was bare of much makeup today. She was just in some lip balm that he could smell was strawberry-scented.

She pulled back from his warm arms and smiled up at him as if she hadn’t seen him weeks when in reality he’d driven her to work that morning. They carpooled and in the evening she’d either walk or catch the bus but usually Niall offered her a lift home.

“I just thought I’d bring you and Niel dinner, it’s from that Flaming Green Jose’s place he was talking about.” He said showing the bags of food.

Y/n smiled this really big grin that Harry loved to make appear on her precious face.

Y/n knew Harry was a bit of a grumpy old bastard sometimes, he tended to complain and not like new ideas, but he really was the sweetest thing underneath his stern face and scary resting stare. He was a sweetheart underneath it all. Even though he was so intimidating and tall Y/n always thought he was quite delicate looking. He looked pretty even under the harsh light of the front room, he was in one of his usual business outfits he wore to the office that made him look especially good. Today’s suit was all black and he had a big beige-brown coat over the top to keep him warm in the cold and this deep dark crimson scarf that Y/n had bought him when she noticed he had no scarfs, he said how much he liked her purple one day it was so soft he said and she decided then he needed one too. His long curls of brown hair were dusted in snow and messier now that it was the end of the day. She was sure it was from running his hands through it, he did that a lot when he was concentrating or thinking.

She rushed forward hugged him again with a big squeeze and kissed his cheek in thanks, he smelt so addicting and her head was the perfect height to smell his clothes that smelt like he always did. Like tobacco, vanilla, and his citrusy and woodsy shampoo.

“Well aren’t you just a doll?” She said with a smile.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back at her looking down at her as a dimple formed in his normally stoic face. She pulled away from him hand still holding his bicep as she examined all the bags in his hands. Even though he dressed very formal always, he still had his touch on things, like his rings. Harry always wore dozens of amazing large rings, and nail polish too. Y/n had conviced him a few evenings ago to choose this nice lavender colour rather than his normal black. He said he would only if she would match him. So her nails were littered in that same colour and she was reminded of him whenever she looked at the chipping colour while she was kneading dough. And underneath those long shirts and pants were so many inked pieces of skin, that suited him more than you’d think.

Y/n loved when, usually on Sundays which were his day off, he was sat at home in just some pyjamas that showed all the ink and she could ask him the stories behind each while they did laundry. She liked him in suits of course, there was something very attractive about it, but she liked him all cosy and casual too. He barely ever dressed that way, only at home. She felt lucky to see him that way.

She snapped herself out of her daydreams about his gorgeous hands and that cross tattoo she loved when her tummy rumbled hungrily at the smell of the delicious dinner.

“Niall! Harry brought us dinner!” She called out and Niall stepped out of the kitchen. He looked similar to Y/n, dressed casual too, because she didn’t think uniforms suited her place. The shorter man was in a pair of his own baggy jeans and this brown knitted jumper and a pair of ratty old sneakers. His bleach blonde hair was in messy spikes and he had a pair of glasses on today instead of contacts.

“Haz, is that Flaming Green Jose’s?” Niall asked instantly without even greeting him properly as he walked over to sniff and grab at the bags.

Harry nodded lifting the bags in show, the green plastic was printed in the familiar taco on fire logo that proved it was in fact Flaming Green Jose’s.

Niall practically drooled and looked up at him eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas.

“I could kiss you, mate!” He said, his Irish accent dancing off his tongue.

Harry grimanced at him and handed over the bags. “Please don’t. Just take the tacos.”

Y/n giggled by his side squeezing his arm in her usual way when he said something that made her laugh.

Niall and Harry quickly began to set up the containers of different Mexican dishes while Y/n grabbed some cutlery, cups, and cold water for them all to enjoy their late dinner. The bakery had a few tables for people to sit and enjoy snacks at, and only for one portion of the day did they serve hot drinks, Niall was also a trained barista, which was perfect because she thought coffee suited a lot of her sweets.

The three of them set up their food in one of the booths that was a cherry red leather colour. The snow was falling heavily outside now against the windows and it had started to quiet down out there. Not as many shoppers or people finishing work were wandering around outside as usual. The storm was keeping people, hopefully, rugged up and warm inside.

Y/n dreamily looked outside as she turned the big overhead lights off and switched on just the fairy lights she had strung up for Christmas spirit. They were a nice soft golden orange glow for them to eat.

The three friends enjoyed their dinner quietly as the radio hummed some old jazz Christmas songs, they were all huddled together really close and Y/n leaned into Harry sleepily which he didn’t mind at all. The bakery was warm but Y/n felt chilly now that she was sweating away in the kitchen. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder to help warm her as they lazily chewed down their food. Even though he’d stripped himself of his massive coat and scarf he was still rather warm.

Niall was right it was quite good food and a family-run business which was always nice to support. Y/n knew how it hard was to be a little business in the busy city of London.

The three chatted about nothing particularly worth noting, just talking about normal Harry, Y/n, and Niall things and enjoying the food. Harry was very hungry so he’d barely spoken a word just chewing lazily beside Y/n. When all the food was gone and they all felt sufficiently full Y/n kissed Harry’s cheek once more.

“Thanks again for dinner, H.” She said softly eyes drooping, now that’d she been fed she was getting a bit sleepy.

He smiled, a big one for Harry, he was almost showing teeth.

“I know how hard y’guys have been workin’, just wanted to help in some way.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t too much of a big deal but the fact he’d thought of them when he’d gotten the night off was sweet, he was so busy and he chose to spend some free time helping friends. That hardly matched his scary persona.

This made Y/n’s heart swell and she spoke softly. “Thanks, Haz.”

“Yeah mate, you’re the best.” Chimed Niall wiping his face with a napkin. Niall had devoured his food contently.

Their little dinner together was interrupted by the door swinging open, the bell ringing, and a couple of two walked in.

Y/n stood up, moving from the warmth of Harry.

“Hi! How can I help you?” She said plastering a smile on her face, walking over and tying the back of her apron back on.

The couple ordered a few Christmas cookies decorated like pieces of art and some cream horns that Y/n had made that morning. Y/n handed them their bags took their change and waved goodbye.

“Have a good night!” She chirped to them.

They smiled and waved. “You too, Y/n!”

Y/n came back over and sat down again, looking over to Niall tucking her knees up to her chest. “Is it gingerbread time then, Ni?”

Niall nodded throwing his head back with a sigh.

Gingerbread could be quite tedious. Especially the way Y/n decorated them. She really made them all individual pieces of art just for people to eat them. Which was beautiful, but also very time consuming.

Harry looked over, “I thought gingerbread was quite easy, Y/n makes it so quickly.”

Niall scoffed. “That’s because Y/n’s a machine. But even she can’t do this many cookies alone.”

Harry looked over at the tired pair of bakers and down at his hands. He tried to think of the last time he’d made gingerbread. Must have been with his sister Gemma when they were kids visiting their grandparents. But he thought if he could get an interview with James Hadden (a man who notoriously never answered questions to the media) then he could bake some cookies. How hard could it be?

“Let me help then. Many hands make light work.”

Y/n blinked. “You hate Christmas,” she stated.

He looked over at her. “But I like your Christmas cookies.”

Y/n decided not to fight him on it. “Alright. Niall find him an apron I’ll start setting up.”

Y/n began getting out all the ingredients they’d be needing this way they could each make a batch to save time. She grabbed flour pouring enough into three bowls for each batch, some unsalted butter, brown sugar from the cupboard, some eggs from the fridge, baking soda, milk, and all the spices. As she looked at the array of ingredients laid out on the steel bench she noticed she was missing the most with most important ingredient; golden syrup.

She walked to the stock cupboard and saw the big bottle of golden syrup sitting on the tallest shelf. Adam, a really tall baker, had been working earlier he must’ve put it there. Y/n tried to reach on her tiptoes though it was no use, her fingernails only just grazed it.

When a hand came out from behind her gripping the big can it startled her and she turned to see Harry standing behind her.

“Oh, you scared me,” She giggled.

“Sorry, Love.”

She followed him back out to the kitchen. He placed the big can down on the bench and she took in his form. His long shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a bun now, and he’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, his black shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the buttons on his collar were undone. He had an apron on now too, one of Y/n’s collection, it was pink and frilly with flowers.

Y/n softly explained to Harry the process of making the batter and he was intently listening to her every word watching her through his lashes. Soon enough the dough was perfect and all three of them rolled out the dough the perfect width which meant Harry had to re-roll it. Once Y/n gave a thumbs up of approval they began using the cookie cutter shapes and cutting the cookies out.

Harry had the make hearts and stars, Niall made gingerbread men and women, and Y/n made circles and snowflakes.

Eventually, they put in their first batch, a little after 10. They kept re-rolling the dough and cutting as many as they could until the batches vanished. Harry was very good and gentle with his technique, and some were wonky but Y/n loved that he was helping and it took her years to perfect her cookies so he was doing very well for his first time. She selfishly wanted to keep his batch for them to go home and eat but she didn’t.

By 11 all the batches were cooked or still cooking. Niall was on oven duty and Y/n was teaching Harry how to decorate.

The ginger people were decorated all classic. White iced smiley faces and an outline around their body, little chocolate buttons for the outfits and a pinch of icing sugar to look like snow. Harry tried his best to do them and Y/n loved their imperfections it was like real people; all individual.

The others needed to be painted in colourful swirls of festive landscapes and honestly, they looked like individual paintings. Harry was amazed at her steady hand and ability to decorate such creative and individual designs for each cookie.

“Y’like tha’ bloody Andy Wharol of cookies, Y/n.” He said.

And she giggled her concentrated face cracking to a smile. She looked over at him. “It’s just practice.”

“No, it’s not.” Said Niall, from his station. “I’ve been practising for ages, your baking is just pure talent.”

By midnight the last batch had cooled down and they were all decorating together and Y/n was humming along to the Christmas playlist she had put on.

Niall twirled Y/n around and they sang along goofily. Niall and Y/n had been friends since culanary school which felt like years ago now. They were only teenagers then. All baby-faced and wide-eyed, now they were older and still just as immature when put together. When Y/n opened her bakery and she needed extra hands he was the first person she called.

Niall was her best friend, and Harry had easily become her other one. Even though she was so tired and it was late, and her feet ached. The boys made it better. Niall singing into a spatula and Harry refusing to dance or sing was what kept her going the final stretch. She stopped decorating to go over to Harry, she looped her arms through his waist forcing him to step away from the bench and she tried to make him sway with her.

His body stayed still and she moved closer to the front of him, in hopes of seeing his face.

“C’mon! Dance, Grinch!”

“I don’t even dance when it isn’t Christmas, Y/n.”

She huffed arms crossing, “Please?” she asked, fluttering her eyes best of her ability in hopes of convincing him.

Harry melted at the sight. She was so cute, even Harry couldn’t say no to her. He sighed like it was the most horrible task anyone could’ve asked him and she held out her hand with a smile. He grabbed it and she raised her hand for him to twirl under and he obliged spinning even though he was much taller than her. She leaned in close to him hands landing on his hips as his landed on her shoulders in an embrace while they swayed. She sang softly, and very off-key and Harry just shook his head.

She was like a ray of sunlight, and he was like the moon. She looked up at him, “Thanks for helping,” she said softly.

“Of course….you’ve done way more for me.” He said.

She just shook her head and was about to reply but Niall cut them off.

“I gotta’ get home to Max soon.” Max was Niall’s recent boyfriend.

“Sorry, let’s get back too it.” Y/n said pulling away from Harry.

By almost 1 AM they were finished with every cookie. It was perfect. They would probably all sell out tomorrow. Y/n grabbed two handfuls one for Niall and one for Harry. She wrapped them like she would for costumers. She tied two pink ribbons and handed one to Niall.

“Thank you for all your hard work, Ni, I’ll see you Monday?” He nodded smiling in his easy going way, and pecked her cheek.

“Bye, Pet, see you Monday.” They waved him off and they heard him leave when the bell chimed.

Y/n and Harry turned the lights off and grabbed there things. Y/n put on her layers of clothes. A big red coat, her lavender scarf, and her blue beanie that had a fuzzy ball on top. She grabbed her bags and keys and they locked up the shop.

At least tomorrow both her and Harry had the day off.

The walk to the car was brisk but short, the snow had stopped now and but it was still freezing. The pair stayed close by to one another, trying to keep warm as they walked quickly to the car.

Harry started the car as fast as he could and cranked the heat and while they waited for it warm up they finally tried the few pieces of gingerbread she’d saved for them.

“Y/n this is so fucking good.” He said looking over at her. His hair was back down and he’d put on all his layers too. She smiled.

“All you, H.”

He just shook his head. “You’re the best.”

She looked over blushing. “And you’re the sweetest.”

354 notes · View notes

eddiesghxst · 9 months

Text

cigarettes, coffee, and club-hopping

alrighty, she's here and i hope she lives up to the expectations! this is part one of...idk how many yet, but enjoy!

based on this idea I had 80 years ago

————

part one | part two | part three | part four

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: ex-bf!rockstar!eddie x lawyer!reader

summary: you're a divorce attorney in Los Angeles and your newest client is filing against famous rockstar, Eddie Munson, who is also your ex-boyfriend

contains: exes to lovers trope, mention of a past relationship, slutty banter, smoking, mentions of alcohol, a hint of mean!eddie, public sex (restroom), a sprinkle of degradation, eddie likes to kiss your neck, fingering, eddie licking your c*m off his fingers (bye), and eddie being hot <3

word count: 5.8k

-masterlist-

Eddie hates waking up early.

He’s never been a morning person— in all his twenty-eight years of living, Eddie has never seen the letters ‘AM’ and smiled. This is partially why Eddie failed his first-period class in high school for two — almost three — consecutive years in a row. This is also partly why Eddie was fired from nearly every job he landed after graduating. You would imagine that Eddie has learned his lesson after all this time. Not quite.

Eddie is nearly an hour late to his first divorce settlement conference. One would think that Eddie would, for once in his life, wake up at a reasonable time to take a shower, grab his usual morning energy drink, beat LA traffic, and get to his appointment on time— as a mature grown man would do. Still, Eddie failed even to set an alarm to wake him up.

“You’re forty minutes late already— traffic is gonna make it even worse, and you don’t have another day to reschedule this for the next two months, so I suggest you get up, Munson!”

Eddie watches through sleep-fogged eyes as Kelly, his assistant, throws his window curtains aside to let the morning sun seep into his room. There’s a pounding kick drum beating behind Eddie’s eyes, a result of Eddie falling into Jeff’s sinister persuasion to go out. He should stop listening to that asshole— he’s part of why Eddie married his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Eddie’s bones click and crack as he stretches, sits up, and lazily swings his legs over the side of his bed with a sleepy groan. He can hear the rustling sound of Kelly picking up laundry from his floor— something he’s told her multiple times not to do, but she does it anyway, so he’s given up on fighting her. He runs a hand over his face, a yawn wracking through his entire body before reaching over to his nightstand, feeling around for the box of cigarettes he knows he left the night before.

“I tossed them out,” Eddie glances up at Kelly, who is now grabbing the last of his laundry on the floor and leaving his room. “Go freshen up and get dressed; we need to leave now.”

Eddie’s doctor advised him to start weaning himself off the cancer sticks; something about it fucking with his gums, and that’s on top of the risks he’s running with the vocal strain it’s put on his voice. Eddie knows he should take it seriously, but he needs a lick of nic before spending the next three to four hours bickering with his wife about what’s his and hers.

Eddie drags himself out of bed, shuffling across the cool tile of his bedroom floor. He sleepily rubs his bare stomach, flipping the light switch and groaning, annoyed at the sudden brightness. He brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face before walking into his closet and sifting through the random pants and jackets strewn across the floor. There’s gotta be some smokes in here somewhere.

He finds a nearly empty pack of Marlboro reds and wastes no time sticking it between his lips, lighting it up with the lighter on his nightstand before getting dressed.

By the time Eddie steps into the law firm, his headache has intensified by about 80 beats per second, and he’s gone through the old pack of smokes. It feels as if the back of Eddie’s eyes have a heartbeat of their own, throbbing with every direction they turn. Eddie can hear his attorney giving him pointers for the conference, but if Eddie’s honest, he doesn’t plan on talking much, so he doesn’t pay close attention to what the man is saying.

When they enter the conference room, Eddie is seated across the table from his wife and offered a cup of coffee, to which Eddie gladly accepts to nurse his hangover. “You could at least take the glasses off.” A sweet voice that’s grown to grate every one of Eddie’s nerves whenever he hears it. He glares at his wife from across the table, and though nobody could see his eyes behind his glasses, everyone could sense the distaste behind his words, “Fuck off, Nezza.”

A strong hand is placed on Eddie’s shoulder, his attorney’s, stiffly squeezing the thick leather jacket. “How about we get started then? Before things get… rowdy.”

“Great idea.”

Now that voice—- that voice, Eddie could hear at any second of the day, any time of the year, and know exactly who was conducting that sweet song.

Eddie likes to believe that the universe works in mysterious ways and that things really do happen for a reason, but sometimes he swears whatever god is up there behind the clouds just likes to fuck with him for fun. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared Eddie for the sight he sees when he flits his gaze from Nezza to the woman sitting next to her.

For a moment, Eddie is taken back to a time he remembers in golden dream-like clouds of smoke—- the spring of ‘83 when he fell headfirst in love with the woman sitting next to his wife. And for that moment—- for that split fraction of a second, Eddie is happy to see you.

It’s surprising; after all this time he spent resenting you and spitting out the sour taste you'd left in his mouth, Eddie imagined he would never be able even to see a picture of you and not want to slam his head against the nearest surface he could get his hands on.

However, that feeling only lasts about .012 milliseconds before Eddie’s entire being is filled with every emotion he’d suppressed towards you over the last nine years. Eddie looks at you and sees the girl he loved and the girl that broke his heart. His last memory of you is so vivid that it almost outshines all the good from your past relationship. Almost. Like a python wrapped around his neck, Eddie chokes on adoration and hatred all in one breath.

If Eddie said it didn’t piss him off to an ungodly level that he has a sliver of excitement to see you, he would be lying. You had always known the best ways to wriggle under his skin.

This one takes the cake for the cruelest way so far.

————

Eddie looks the same.

Not much has changed on him throughout the years apart from expensive clothing, healthier-looking hair, and a little more muscle on his arms to fill out the black leather jacket clinging to his frame. He still has a knack for jewelry, you note from the priceless rings hugging nearly every slender finger of his and the chain resting against his chest, hidden beneath his shirt. He carries himself the same way, confidently with a smear of carefree and chaos. You couldn’t get a read on him when settled down in his seat across from Nezza, and the black sunglasses shielding his eyes didn’t help you decipher him any further.

He smells like Marlboro reds and a sharp cologne; dark scented and intense, easy to tell he’s the one wearing the scent. It’s a different scent than you remember from him. He’s swapped the cheap four-cent bottle of Brut for a more decadent scent— a mix of tonka bean, musk, and patchouli with a dash of something feminine you can’t quite put your finger on. The scent matches him better than Brut could ever amount to, but you find yourself reminiscent of the past.

Eddie doesn’t look your way until you speak, and either Eddie has mastered his poker face over the years, or he doesn’t remember you.

Not even briefly does Eddie’s expression falter from the bored look plastered on his face. The sunglasses do no justice either, and you wish the universe would strike them off his face at this very moment. You had forgotten what his eyes looked like in real-time and desperately wanted to remember— take a mental picture and shove it in the corner of your brain filled with essential memories, all things that make you smile, cry, and scream.

There’s a moment where you feel pained by Eddie’s unwavering reaction to seeing you. That feeling is quickly replaced with relief, relief that Eddie has matured just as much as you’d hoped he had. When you found out your client would be filing against Eddie, your high school boyfriend, you had initially panicked and paced the living room floor of your tiny studio apartment, thinking of ways to back out of the case. However, after a hefty glass of wine, you managed to persuade yourself that Eddie most likely isn’t still hung up on something as silly as a high school relationship. It happened nearly a decade ago; surely, you’ve both moved on, right?

With this indication, you feel the tension in your shoulders ease a little, hopeful that this process will be seamless, seeing as both parties want nothing to do with each other and Eddie holds no hard feelings against you.

Once the conference begins, you don’t look away in time to avoid Eddie’s gaze as he removes the glasses, your eyes landing on those dark pools of brown that you used to dip into each night. Vibrant and so full of life, full of untold stories and sights you’d missed out on in the last decade, a story unfolds beneath the glimmer of his eyes under the lights. They feel like home at first, but as you continue holding his gaze, your home becomes clouded by lightning and wind, dark storm clouds with a promise of a downpour.

As you gaze into Eddie’s eyes, you see nothing but the boy you left behind in the summer of ‘85.

————

Stomach growling and frustrated sighs indicate the need for a break at around 12:40 PM.

The conference had started on a good note, with seamless agreements between you, your client, and Eddie’s team. That was until your client decided to become rather difficult and demanding.

“We’ll pick up where we left off in ten minutes.”

The atmosphere in the room has become stuffy and tight over the hours, so you get up to stretch your legs on a short walk to the coffee cart in the hallway.

Your mind feels muddled, pushed to exhaustion from hours of reading documents and going back and forth with Eddie’s attorney. Nezza wants more than Eddie is willing to give, money-wise, property-wise, and everything else under the sun. You’re determined to get your client as much as possible, but it’s proving to be more of a struggle than expected; Eddie’s team is headstrong and unwilling to bend to your substantial advances. Oh, and Eddie’s been practically throwing daggers at you from across the table with each chance he can get.

As you stir in a sugar packet, you watch the dark brown liquid swirl in the foam cup. You fall into a short trance as you watch the tiny bubbles dance within your drink, but the sound of a throat clearing shatters the spell. You glance to your side where the person is standing and are surprised to be met with a leather-covered shoulder and dark brown curly hair.

“Are you done with the sugar?” Eddie points towards your hand, and you blink, stuck as you stare at him for a moment. You know you should be professional, you’re an established attorney, and you’re in the middle of doing your job, but you’re also 100% fucking human, so— “I don’t know, are you done sending me death glares from across the table or do you wanna keep being an asshole?”

Eddie grabs the jar of sugar packets from your hand, “You wouldn’t have to put up with it if you just… quit the case.” Eddie shrugs as if his advice is a task as easy as folding towels. You take offense to his response, eyebrows pinching together as you watch him rip open a packet and sprinkle sugar into his cup, “I can’t just drop a case, Eddie.”

Eddie mockingly laughs, “Really? That’s weird; I mean, considering how you kind of just dropped everything and fled the fucking state, I’m sure you can drop a case just as easily, sweetheart.”

His words hurt. As much as you wish he didn’t have that effect on you, it’s evident that he still does, considering how your neck heats up in anger. You don’t miss the pet name he slipped in; you hate that it makes your neck even warmer. “I didn’t flee the state; I went to fucking college— and how is that even my fault? I gave you the number to my dorm, and you never called.”

And Eddie remembers that letter you left him. He remembers it like the back of his hand. He memorized every sentence, including that stupid number you left for him. “Yes, I did. I called you after every show for months, and you never picked up!”

You spent eight years in New York, and out of those eight years, you spent four of them staring at an ugly green phone on the wall of your dorm hallway, waiting for it to ring so you could pick it up and hear his voice again. You asked your roommate to listen for a call if she was up studying late or if you went out and she stayed in. Now, you wonder if she failed you on her part because you would’ve never, in a hundred years, missed Eddie’s call. Never.

Before you can respond to the information, you are being called back into the room to resume the conference— you’d almost forgotten that’s what you were here for.

You and Eddie let the man know you’ll be right there and watch as he walks back into the room. When you turn to Eddie, his gaze is no longer on you as he tosses the small wooden stirring stick in the trash.

Eddie is silent for a moment before he looks at you and gives a forced, close-lipped smile, “It’s nice to know you’re still full of shit.”

And then he’s gone. Eddie leaves you there, stunned and offended by his words. Eddie Munson thinks you’re full of shit— as if you were the only one to blame for your falling out. You feel stupid for believing in a better-evolved version of the Eddie you’d known. You wish his words didn’t affect you, but the conversation has left a bitter taste on your tongue. You glance down at the cup of coffee in your hands, and your stomach churns. You no longer have an appetite for the drink.

————

Late-night club hopping has never been your preferred way of spending a Saturday night. There’s a different type of energy in LA’s club scene than there is in New York. It was easy to have a good time in New York; the clubs are all close to one another and stay open nearly all night. In Los Angeles, it’s been a slow rise to liking the nightlife— clubs are more scattered, and on top of that, you learned the hard way that it’s difficult to even get into clubs when you’re not Madonna-level status. That last problem isn’t so much an issue now that you’ve settled in and made a few connections around the city.

Tonight you’re celebrating a friend from work's birthday. Penny was the first person you talked to at the law firm; she instantly made you feel at home and offered to buy you lunch at a cafe next door. The two of you have been joined at the hip ever since.

You’re happy to celebrate Penny’s birthday and glad to be tagging along with her in this new chapter of her life, but what you’re bothered about is the fact that you chose to wear the most uncomfortable shoes in your closet. You were under the impression that you would be eating dinner with Penny and a few of her friends, but somehow, dinner turned into a night-long clubbing adventure.

Logically, you have no one to blame but yourself for wearing Steve Madden pumps, but if Penny had told you the night would be long, you definitely wouldn’t have worn these god-awful shoes.

You’re sitting on a bar stool waiting for your drink and thinking about what excuse you’ll give Penny to go home when suddenly, you feel someone walk up beside you, waving over the bartender. You glance at the person and immediately look away, preparing to run for it before they notice.

Sadly, you’re not fast enough to escape his line of sight, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re stalking me.”

You turn to the man and take in the sight of him as you tilt your head. “Wouldn’t it be the other way around since I was… you know, minding my business until you came here.” You motion to where Eddie is standing, and he smirks, silently taking his drink when the bartender passes it to him.

“How’d you get in here anyways?” He asks. It’s not a bad question; sure, you’re a damn good attorney, but you’re of no celebrity status, and this club is one of the more difficult joints to get into. However, you still take offense to Eddie’s question.

Your eyes narrow slightly, debating whether you should continue entertaining Eddie or leave and find your friends. “If you’re going to continue to be an asshole, then I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me; I want nothing to do with you.” Eddie scoffs into the rim of his drink before taking a short sip. You roll your eyes, feeling like kids in elementary getting into petty fights. “What makes you think I want something to do with you?”

Eddie snickers over the rim of his glass, “The fact that you’re still sitting here says enough.”

You scoff, looking away from him as you shift in your seat, attempting to make it seem like you want to get away from him, but it only scoots you closer to him, your arm brushing his elbow. You panic at the touch but act as if it was nothing. “If my feet didn’t feel like they were about to fall off, I would be miles away from you by now.” You grumble as you distract yourself by tugging down the hem of your dress.

“I don't believe that.”

You let out an exasperated breath, looking over at Eddie with an annoyed expression as you speak, “Not everyone is head over heels dying to be around you.”

It might be the alcohol or Eddie’s sinister pheromones you’re breathing in paired with the sound of his ridiculously annoying laugh—- you’re not sure which it is, but you find yourself enjoying this back-and-forth banter. A big part of you is frustrated by Eddie’s insistent prodding at your nerves, but your other part is intrigued. Too stuck to grab your things, bid him goodnight, and leave.

You almost think you heard him wrong when he responds, “We’ll see if you’re saying the same thing once I get you in the back.”

You blink, momentarily silent, as you glance at him to watch him calmly sip his drink. Not a single hint of regret or shock flashes across his face, and you almost think you imagined it until you see a ghost of a smirk brush the corner of his lips. “Excuse me?” And like a child, Eddie’s response is quick and irritating, “You’re excused.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m willingly going anywhere with you that’s not a fucking law firm or courtroom.”

Eddie laughs, glancing at you and nodding once, “Sure.” You hate how smug he is, and you hate that he’s so fucking right, but you swear you won’t fold for whatever stupid game he’s playing. “Sure?”

You watch Eddie tip back his drink and finish what’s left, placing the empty glass on the bar countertop before lazily nudging it forward. You shift back with an annoyed grimace when he turns to you and leans an elbow against the bar. He points over your shoulder, and you catch yourself before you follow his lead, gaze stuck on his face as you prepare for whatever bullshit is about to leave his mouth.

“I’m gonna head to the restroom to take a piss. You can sit here and bitch about everything under the sun, or you can quit being a pussy and meet me there.”

And without further explanation or interaction, Eddie gets up and leaves. You turn and watch in shock as he walks off, watching his back until it’s washed away by the sea of people on the dance floor. You turn back to the bar and gaze at your drink. For a moment, you think this might be some elaborate scheme Eddie has to fuck you over. Complying with this proposition, Eddie has now opened, could very well lead to you losing your job, something you’re not very keen on doing.

You glance towards the direction Eddie had walked off in and groan, briefly shutting your eyes as temptation washes over you. There’s no way this is real. There’s no way you’re actually thinking about going into that restroom with Eddie.

You take a deep breath, clenching your teeth in thought before muttering a curse. You’re fucking yourself over with this one, but you do it anyways. You toss back the rest of your drink, wincing at the bitterness, before hopping off the barstool.

Your adrenaline is so high that you don’t even feel the ache in your feet as you cross the dance floor, maneuvering through sweaty bodies and spilled drinks toward the bright neon RESTROOMS sign.

From the corner of your eye, you see Penny standing at her rented-out section as she tosses back a shot with the girls you’d arrived with. You should turn around and join them, return to celebrating Penny’s birthday, and forget all about your interaction with Eddie. That’s what you should do, but you don’t. You continue walking towards the restrooms, mentally going back and forth with yourself until you reach the door and wrap your hand around the handle.

However, the door opens before you can fully prepare to open it, and the scent of hand soap and Eddie hits you in the face. Your wide eyes meet Eddie’s glinting gaze. A smirk spreads across his lips, and he snickers, “I’d say I’m surprised, but that’d be a lie.”

Your gaze is hot and heavy as you stare up at him. The sounds of the club you're in seem muffled as you spend your last seconds considering what you’re about to do. You should really turn around.

You tilt your head up, silently sizing Eddie and daring him, a tipping point where you both know there’s no going back now—- especially not when you mesh your lips against his and stumble into the restroom. You plan to blame this on the alcohol.

Eddie makes quick work of turning to press your back against the door, fumbling to lock the door as you grumble a breathless ‘Fuck you’ against his lips.

“I intend to, sweetheart.”

You hate how stupid and witty the response is, but it makes your stomach twist in need, nonetheless. Eddie’s hands are roaming and squeezing you wherever he can reach, hiking up your dress enough to slink a few digits into the hand of your skimpy panties, snapping them against your waist and smirking when you push up against him. Eddie manages to speak in between haste kisses, “I’m gonna be honest; I didn’t think you’d give in this easily.”

Eddie is now ushering you towards the sink, softly snickering at the gasp that escapes you when the cold marble digs into your lower back. “Are you trying to say I’m easy?”

You can’t hold back the moan that slips from you when Eddie’s hand slithers between your thighs to press a thumb against your clit. “Maybe… also just pointing out that you clearly missed me.”

You don’t answer him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss as your hips rock back and forth against his touch. You smooth your hand down his chest and over his belt to grasp the heavy bulge between his thighs, humming when he moans, “Looks like you missed me more, Munson.”

You giggle when he grunts in annoyance, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties before shucking them down your legs and lifting the flimsy garment for you to see with a smirk, “Won’t be needing these anymore, will you?”

You grimace in faux disgust as you watch him stuff the soaked material in his back pocket. “Gross,” you comment, although Eddie doesn’t answer, busying himself with pulling you off the counter, flipping you around to face the sink, and eyeing you through the neon-lighted mirror. “You’re a perv; you know that?” You add as Eddie wraps an arm around your front and hikes your dress to sink his hand between your thighs.

Your shaky fingers grasp Eddie’s wrist, hips squirming as he begins to rub your clit, dipping a finger lower to spread your sticky arousal. “If I were you, I would start being very nice to me.” His voice is low and gravely against your ear as you smile, gazing back into his darkened gaze through the glass reflection. You push back against him, and you both sigh in pleasure. “Just fuck me, Eddie.”

You gasp when he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt, slowly pushing it in and out of you to create a sinful twist in your tummy. You shake your head in protest, although your hips rock against his thrusts. “No, no, I don’t need it. I don’t need that. Just fuck me, please?” You repeat, voice teetering on the edge of a whine.

“God, you’re still a fucking brat. So used to getting what you want, hm?” Despite his comment, he doesn’t give you what you’d asked for. Instead, he slips in another finger, greedily squeezing at your chest with his other hand. Your thighs tremble as his fingertips delicately massage that sweet spot hidden between your wet walls, a shaky hand reaching up to grasp his hand as he fondles your breasts over your dress. “Not anymore, princess,” His voice is low and foggy with sex, purring against your ear with ease as he plays with you. “This time, you’ll earn it like a good slut. You’re going to have to ask me very nicely if you want it that bad.” “A-ah…Fuck you.”

Eddie laughs at your response, digging his face into your neck when you throw your head back, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume. He presses a kiss to the base of your neck, and you hate how it makes your stomach twist, thighs clenching around his hand, causing him to pause. “Keep them open.” He warns, ignoring your pathetic attempts at rutting against his hand.

When you don’t obey his instruction, Eddie brings his foot in between your pump-clad feet, knocking the toe of his shoe against both heels, causing your legs to part, shaky limbs failing you as you stumble in his hold. Eddie chuckles, nipping your jaw as he sinks another finger into your soaking heat. Your moan is loud and pitiful as you reach forward to grasp the sink counter for stability. “Oh my god—” “Jesus, you’re fucking tight. Barely taking three fingers.” Your moans are high-pitched as you rock your hips against Eddie, nails digging into the skin of his flexing wrist as he fucks you with his fingers.

The sloshing sounds from between your legs are just loud enough to hear over the booming music of the club barely, and if Eddie’s fingers weren’t fucking you so well, you would’ve felt ashamed. You hardly notice Eddie’s free hand traveling to the low neck of your dress, tugging the material down to expose your chest. He groans at the sight, palming one of your tits as his mouth latches to the side of your neck. His fingers pinch and roll your nipples, his tongue warm and wet as he licks up your neck, humming at the taste of you and smiling when he feels you tremble against his body. “I can feel you squeezing me, princess; you gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your ear, humming when you hastily nod. “I don’t think so.”

He slows the draw of his fingers, softly petting at your walls to give enough sensation to have your eyes rolling but not enough to tip over the edge. You frustratedly huff, “Eddie—” “Good sluts ask to come, you know that.”

Your stomach twists at his words, hips squirming in search of more, more, more. You have a lot of pride; you’ve been told it’s your strongest and worst quality before— but here in this dingy club restroom, with Eddie’s overwhelming presence surrounding you and the incessant need to cum gnawing at every cell in your body, you find your pride quickly dwindling like a flame under water. The time when you need your pride the most, it’s nowhere to be found.

“Please, Eddie.” You whisper so quietly Eddie almost misses it. He smiles, “Since I know how hard that was for you, I’ll take it— but I won't be so kind next time, princess.” He pulls his fingers out of you and urges you to turn around and face him.

He nudges you back to sit on the edge of the sink, stepping between your thighs and opening them wide enough to see your glistening cunt, sticky arousal winking up at him beneath the dim neon lighting. “N-next time?” You take in a sharp breath as he hitches your leg around his waist

He chuckles, glancing at your swollen lips as you gaze up at him trying to fight through the hazy fog of arousal. Eddie runs three fingers over your clit before sinking back into you, a low hum rattling from his chest when your shaky hands grasp his shirt, fingers curling and wrinkling the material, “Next time.”

Your words get lost on you when he begins fucking you again, eyes fluttering shut as your legs subconsciously tighten around his waist. You can feel his breath against your top lip, and you fight the urge to seek out his lips with yours. You push up into him, mumbling incoherent pleas into the air. You lick your lips, pussy clenching when the tip of your tongue catches Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie doesn’t wait for you to make a move this time, his free hand reaching up to grip your jaw, fingertips digging into your cheek as he pushes his lips against yours. You both moan into the kiss, your hips grinding into the thrusts of his fingers.

You keep kissing Eddie until you can’t, too overwhelmed by the pending promise of an orgasm. You slide away from Eddie’s lips and nuzzle into his neck, finding solace in the soft brush of his hair against your face, the distant but familiar scent of his shampoo invading your senses. “I’m gonna come.” You whisper, nails digging into his biceps as your thighs quiver.

Eddie keeps his hand working between your thighs, thanking the many hours he’s spent playing guitar for training his wrist to maintain endurance. His other hand dances up your heaving back, dipping beneath the curtain of your hair to grip the back of your neck, softly squeezing in encouragement. “Let go, baby. Let me feel it.”

You nearly sob when you finally tip over, body tensing before melting against Eddie’s body in shambles of incoherent words and shaking limbs. You can hear the sticky wet substance of your release squelching around his fingers; you can feel it smearing against your thighs and dripping onto the cool tiles of the floor, and you almost feel ashamed when Eddie points it out, “Fuckkk, you’ve been saving this for me, haven’t you?” You hardly register his words, but you nod, mewling as you nuzzle deeper against him, thighs twitching when you teeter on the edge of sensitivity.

“I… Enough, Eddie, please fuck me.” You’re practically begging, pulling away from his neck to blink up at him blearily, sex-drunk hands fumbling to reach out for him. Eddie kisses you and chuckles against your lips, fingers finally slowing down. He pulls away with a lewd hum, leaning back to watch as he removes his fingers from your cunt, dragging the drenched digits up to smear your arousal around your clit, grinning when your thighs twitch.

You try to catch your breath as you silently watch him bring his fingers up to his lips, sinking them into his mouth to sinfully lick your cum from his fingers. He glances at you with a smirk around his fingers, and you squirm in your spot. “You’re being a tease.”

He releases his fingers with a pop before stepping away, “Sorry to cut this short, sweetheart, but I’ve gotta run, and I’m sure your friends are worried about where you went.” You watch in disbelief as he glances in the mirror and fixes a few unruly hair pieces. He looks your way and drops his eye in a wink, “I’ll see you later, princess.”

You silently gape in shock, watching him turn around and stride toward the door. Eddie can feel your eyes throwing darts at him, and he doesn’t bother hiding his smile as he opens the door and steps out.

You have to take a moment to wrap your head around it, but once you do, you wind up more annoyed with yourself for falling so quickly into Eddie’s trap. You clean yourself up and make yourself look presentable again before leaving the restroom to find your friends.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Penny exclaims once she sees you. She gasps when you get closer, and she sees your neck, leaning in to get a better look, causing you to slap a hand over the sore spot. “Oh, my god. Who?” “What?” “You were definitely screwing someone in the back! Who?”

You wince at her volume, quickly shushing her, “Nobody, Penny, this is old.”

Penny rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something, but you quickly cut her off, “I have an early meeting tomorrow, Pen; I have to get going.” Penny frowns but understands either way, giving you a quick hug and bidding you goodbye for the night. You leave her with a final Happy Birthday and make your way out of the club, already yearning for the comfort of your bed.

Before getting a taxi, you find yourself walking into a nearby store and purchasing a CD of Corroded Coffin’s first album, letting the CD burn a hole through your hands on the ride home. When you get home, you fall asleep atop your sheets before you can listen to the record.

You spend the rest of your night dreaming of hazy summers in Hawkins with a young curly-headed boy you knew once upon a time.

————

a/n: aH, i hope this was good, next part will be a bit more angsty so this part was for the sluts <3

————

teeny taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @sidthedollface2, @peachysink, @hereforshmut, @duncanhillscoffeecups

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thelastpuppyboygirl · 1 month

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YES !! YES !!!!!! AHAHAAAA YESSSS !!!!

my personal headcannons for the loveliest of lovely little guys <3333

extra info + flags!!

randy: (pan and agender)

-fibromyalgia for sure, trauma does shit things

-probably needs a cane or something similar to aleviate pain (doesn't think he's ill enough to need one, absolutely is)

-if he gets high please treat him like a fish in an aquarium, probably would hate the lack of control

-flushes really easily, and constantly clammy

-if you put a blanket on his head he'll fall asleep

-narcolepsy

-loves the feeling of a nice, heafty, soft quilt and a hot cocoa on a cold afternoon...

oliver: (trans, gay and demiromantic!)

-has a stuffed animal collection 100%

-probably picks up a million different projects only to put them down, a new hyperfixation every week kinda guy

-him being a stoner is basically cannon but, in specifics he seems like a bong or joint guy to me, would let u smoke the first hit (bc he's nice)

-rollerskate date :]

-glasses to at least semi help his shit 'eye' (optical sensor) and lack of depth perception (they can only do so much though)

karen: (nonbinary, lesbian)

-doesn't particularly care about gender as a concept

-has a bunch of tassles and cords in her house she has braided

-can't keep a plant alive to save her life, has mourned at least 20 house plants, has a fake one (somehow dies too)

-mitski.

-the biggest sweet tooth out of the group

-will lock herself away for hours and hours, sometimes an entire day or two, just creating. only to come out of a hole haggard and exhuasted with her New Horse Drawing.

-hEDS, uses a walker to get around!

Norm: (questioning/bi ?)

-writer (how the hell else wouldn't he go absolutely bonkers all alone, other than having a goal and spite i guess)

-uses coffee to live, but definitely enjoys tea in his free time

-probably learned archery at some point

-whittles little sculptures to pass the time (made karen a little wooden horse sculpture once)

-randomly schedules cook outs/junctions when he's feeling lonely and isolated

-he would absolutely take the will graham route and end up with 20 fucking stray dogs out of a deep empathy and then wake up one day and realize the mess he got himself into.

-grilldad. (duh)

phonegingi: (genderfluid, polyamorous, pan)

-gender? yes.

-sexuality? yes.

-will consume your clothes if you are not careful with your gingi Care instructions. (taking little nibbles is okay as a treat)

-if weed is consumed it basically acts as a horrifically strong catnip, and it will get the zoomies and make it everyone's problem

-purrs

-pays really good attention to detail stuff, and its brain is basically a filing cabinet. but big events are basically a blur

-gets SUPER !! fluffy during the winter and there's an awful period where it's shedding and it's...super patchy and silly lookin

-me and the bitches i pulled by being HORRIFYING and lovely,,,,

bigfoot: (aroace. i don't take criticism.)

-banana,,,

-genuinely pretty attentive and smart

-becomes a painter because he is INSPIRED ! by his friend karen

-absolutely splendid lad

-i wanna live in a world where one of his passions is making and wearing silly hats, please, PLEASE

-karen showed him mitski,,,god help him he's sad now

-knitting,,,he knit giant banana,,,,

#dialtown fanart #randy jade #oliver swift #karen dunn #norm allen #phonegingi #bigfoot dialtown #dialtown #dialtown hc

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argreion · 3 months

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Tummy cuddles with Leon!

Tummy cuddles with Leon like... All Leons got a little tummy. I'm here to give it kisses, squishes, and probably fall asleep on it. Sometimes we all just need tummy. 😌

Btw so sorry for clogging the tags a bit last post for Leon today :3 I got to balance the dark with the fluff! Let both sides eat some food!

RE2R - Imma say it, probably the most giddy out of them all. Why are you squishing his little belly? Now you're nuzzling it? You're making him stutter and blush! He can't handle the cuteness with you hugging him! Falls asleep with you falling asleep on him. Would do it to you too, he's gonna squish and love you so much for it. Kiss your stretch marks too! 100000/10 on my tummy cuddler scale.

RE4R - Ok, maybe he got a smaller belly cause this is like... The most muscular Leon if we go off of RE4R. If not, then probably DI, ngl. Stiff, he's gonna tense up a little. He doesn't even exactly have a belly. Pets your head and he's gonna ask why? Why, sir? Just let me cuddle you, c'mon! Still cuddles your tummy a lot. Rubs his face in it because he loves the softness. Will pick you up and bury his face in it. Imagine a face palm, but instead he picks you up and slaps his face into your tummy. :3 1000/10 for my tummy cuddler scale.

ID - Ok, maybe he ain't so much tummy cuddler during this period. Might push you off a little cause ngl, he seems like he wants beauty sleep. No, stop cuddling him! Gets fussy, but he doesn't actually really mind it. Just don't get too annoying with it, he has work in the morning and he at least wants a few hours of decent sleep. Doesn't do much tummy cuddling to you, it isn't in his system anymore. Asides from coming home after a mission, then he's going to that couch and collapsing on top of you. He does blow a little bit of raspberries, he would. Admit it, most Leon's would. It's in his blood! Feels like more of a thigh rest person then a tummy rest person. 7/10 tummy cuddler scale rating.

Damnation - Er, he's got the spirit. Kinda. Doesn't honestly want tummy cuddles, nor wants to do them. Sadly... He's just a little ass for it. He's out of it, don't judge him for it. Ok, maybe he does want one but he's in his emo angry era. 3/10, he's an ass in this emo era compared to Vendetta. Just likes holding hands y'all... :( (Maybe some ass cheek holding too, but honestly all Leon's love ass in my head.)

RE6 - Ok, now he'll do tummy cuddles all the time. He understands it, he mastered it, and now you won't escape. He hugs and cuddles hard when drunk. Bud is a clingy drunk in RE6, and you can't tell me otherwise. Strokes your hair so you fall asleep on his stomach. Falls asleep like a old goober and wakes up. Calls it a five star resort just because it's you. Has low-key started to hold your waist and hips because of it. Blows raspberries on it cause he can and WILL. 10000000/10

Vendetta - Low-key loves it and hates it. Mixed relationship like with Ada. Prefers that he does it to you then you to him. It comforts him, like a cat kneading biscuits! Arms wrapped around you, and falls asleep like a baby! Then proceeds to push you away in his sleep because ew, his 'pillow' isn't cold! If you do it to him, lucky ass man. Probably when he's watching a shitty show and doesn't care in the moment. Likes hearing your heartbeat, and knowing you're alive and here with him! 6.2/10, he just doesn't want the tummy cuddles to happen to him.

DI - You can tell my fav, can't you? He's got belly, and he ain't afraid to use it. Jokes about it, too. If you ever drop to his knees and do belly smush, he's gonna stand there with crossed arms with a shit eating smirk. He loves it, he's old, and honestly likes affection from you. Like the cat you started feeding in Vendetta that would hiss, then starts wanting your attention every second. Throws himself on you in bed all the time to give your tummy kisses and raspberries. He'll nap, but he won't sleep. His neck will hurt, and so will his back! Poor guy is just happy ngl. ∞/10

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader

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s1m0nth3swag · 10 days

Note

Hello, Simon! I enjoyed reading some of your recent works for Francis Mosses 🥺 is it okay to request for period comfort? keep it SFW please! I'm just in a emotional rollercoaster right now because of it and I don't see much sfw works of Francis here on Tumblr. Thank you so much in advance! 🤎

Tysm for the ask anon, so sorry it took this long!

I've been working on some personal projects recently and have had less time to write (especially since I now have to actually take care of some of my grades because some aren't looking too good.... whatever, though I'm balling through, it'll be fine)

Also, I'm so so sorry this is short because, uhm, how do I write about period comfort when all I usually do is ball through and act like the tough man I totally am (not)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; GN!Reader but mentioned to be afab due to having Periods, established relationship but not having been together for that long, Francis is a little silly and unsure at first because that man wouldn't know what to do and I stand by that statement.

When you had woken up this morning, you had immediately known. Just that feeling of being uncomfortable, as if your body needed to make extra sure to signal you that you weren't pregnant. You groaned in annoyance, wanting to sleep for a little longer, but if you did that, you'd probably end up having to change your bedsheets, and that's the last thing you wanted to do right now. So, instead, you trotted to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend Francis was absolutely confused. You weren't the type to get up early, especially not when he was staying over. Usually, you'd snuggle up to him, wrap your arms around his waist to keep him in bed with you. He figured you maybe just needed to go to the toilet, though something seemed a little off. He didn't pay it much mind, though, simply drifting off into a state of being half asleep again. At least until you practically fell into bed, making the mattress creak. "Francis." You grumbled, moving to press your face against his neck like you'd always do when he stayed over and was still with you in the morning. "Mm?" He hummed, his hand coming up to carefully run through your hair. "Got my period." You huff, your face scrunching in annoyance. Francis is caught off guard for a moment. "At least you aren't pregnant?" He mutters, trying to lighten your mood, though that only results in having you hit his chest softly. He really doesn't know what to do. He never had to deal with this before. "What usually.. I don't know.. helps? Makes it better?" He asks. Francis has heard of buying chocolate or making a hot water bottle, though he really wants to make sure not to just assume what might be good for you. "Just stay for now, okay?" You ask, snuggling further against him.

The two of you stay cuddled up in bed for a while, with you getting into some, for Francis, very weird positions just to relieve some of the pain. He starts massaging your lower belly at some point, which makes you comfortably rest against him so he can keep going. He figures that this helped your cramps, though you aren't really a big talker right now. He's just glad you aren't getting sappy on him or worse. Francis reminds himself to stop thinking in stereotypes. You fall asleep at some point, and he has half a mind to get a blanket over the two of you while he tries not to fall asleep as well - he feels like he should be awake once you wake up. He wouldn't want to have you have to do something alone when he could be helping you.

The next few hours are mostly you being asleep and Francis drifting off just to jolt awake again. Once you wake up, Francis gets you water and, because you now specifically asked for it, made you a hot water bottle to help the cramps. You put on a movie while he was gone, some romantic one that he knew you had watched at least twice before already. Not like he minded, though. Wasn't his place to judge. He settled beside you again, making sure to carefully place the bottle on you, letting you adjust it yourself. "You alright?" He hums, resting his head against yours. "Obviously not. I'm actively bleeding, Francis." You huff, rolling your eyes playfully as you shift closer to him. "Honestly, though, as good as I could be right now." You then answer, sighing as you close your eyes to bask in your boyfriends presence.

You stay cuddled up like that, watching the movie together. Francis gets up at some point to make both of you a tea, making sure yours is a Green tea after searching for what tea helps with cramps. He's generally just very mindful of you, even offering to run to the store to get you anything you want - which in all honesty almost makes you tear up because he's just too sweet - but you just want him with you, and that's all that counts.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x you #thats not my neighbor #x reader #francis mosses headcanons #francis mosses x reader #milkman that's not my neighbor #milkman x reader

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yandere-kokeshi · 5 months

Note

Hii, going through the worst period of my life now :⁠^⁠) . Would be mw2 character's reaction with a partner with painful periods

Warnings: yandere behavior, descriptions of periods, and blood, my opinion of characters backgrounds (specifically Kyle's)

A/N: I'm so sorry, dovey!! I hope these headcanons make you a bit better <3

Captain “Price” John:

He feels terrible, especially when he comes home to you cuddled up in bed, wearing one of his large t-shirts, and a bunch of groans coming from you.

John’s mental-talk is that he knows cuddles, and spoiling you will help; which is what he does. He gets whatever you want, especially a new heating blanket, with some fluffy pillows. Major cuddling is expected, with him rubbing your stomach, and making sure to get deep into the muscles where it stings for you.

Keeps your cycle on his phone and on the calendar — very expressive when asking if you need to be restocked, and if it does come when it’s reminded on the calendar, he’ll frown and say: “The Red Army back in town, huh?”

Emotional days are the worst, especially if you don’t notice that you’re being snarky, or in a cry-to-angry mood. With it said, John treats your mood swings like any other day, not taking things personal. He knows it’s the hormones, anxiety, and overwhelmedness of your bleeding and pain, to which he accepts that it can and will drive you mad.

Does everything in the house, even if you feel obligated to do it. Of course, he’s kissing on you, loving on you whenever he gets the chance; but he doesn’t want you to worry about anything else but yourself.

At times, you may feel embarrassed within the hell week; waking up to see the bloody red sheets. This said, John isn’t grossed out at all, telling you to just jump in the shower as he cleans it all up; shaking his head whenever you apologize: “Happens, darlin’; get in the shower, I’ll make breakfast, m’kay?”

If you do bleed through your pants, especially in public, John always brings an extra pair of clothes; packed in the back of the trunk in his car. Though, if he can’t get to it, he’ll purposely wrap his large jacket around your lower waist — covering it up with you being ‘cold’.

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

He hates seeing you in any pain, especially if it’s one he cannot control or decrease in size — but unlike Price, he’s not so sure what to do. As much as he’s attentive towards you, and quite helpful, Simon is unsure how to properly comfort you; it’s never been his best strategy to distract, or comfort. But he tries.

If things are incredibly bad, where having to change boxers every hour, or having the worst cramps that leaves you sobbing and not being able to move, he’ll be more attentive. Pain medication every few hours, food that leaves you full, and heating patches that he runs out and gets frequently. He tries his best, but due to him being a guy and not understanding how it feels, he may say or do things awkwardly. But that doesn’t mean he’s not carrying, he really does, he’s just never had a period.

Is unfazed and never angry when seeing the blood, no matter how much you apologize or feel embarrassed. As long as it’s coming from a menstrual cycle, and not some major wound, he’s all good and telling you off to jump in the bath; taking care of things, and leaving you his large t-shirt on the washroom lid for you to wear when you get out.

Simon understands that your emotions are harder to control, especially since you’re drowning in blood. He’s fine with you snapping at him, or crying out of anger because of the pain and his very annoying existence. With this said, he makes it up with ice cream, and leaves you alone when sensed. Coming back every 45-to-an-hour to check up on you, and if you apologize, he just shrugs his shoulders: “Don’t worry about it, understand why ya’ act like it.”

Herbal tea is mostly given to you, especially during nights. He wants to help with balancing everything out, and ease the deathly pains. He always gives you a candy bar at that, too; wanting you to relish the taste before helping you to bed.

Another thing he gives is massages. Where you want his golden hands, they’re there, relieving some pain and ensuring to get rid of the knots. Simon gives kisses out, patterning along your neck and cheek, talking to you with his gruff and rough voice.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

Quite attentive, especially since he grew up with sisters. He understands the whereabouts of periods, extreme pain, and the large package it comes with. So, out of everyone, Kyle is stocked full of supplies, knowing exactly what to do, and not taking things personally when you lash out.

A major cuddler when it comes down to him finding you crouched over in pain. Kyle would make sure everything for you is perfect, spooning you from behind whilst holding a heating pad to your aching stomach. He tries to joke around, wanting you to feel a bit better with jokes, but mostly keeps it quiet with the low-volume TV.

He knows when you get your period, often picking up on your mood changes, and quickly makes sure everything is up-to-date, including salty, spicy, and sweet treats that he knows you’ll enjoy that are stored in the pantry.

Spoils you up to 100%, he makes sure that the sheets each day are warm and freshly washed. Restocking your necessary needs, and buying you snacks that he hopes you won’t eat in a day. He’s fine with your routine, following you to bed and massaging your back when it becomes too much, or making you a mixed bowl of M&M’s and popcorn.

Kyle is considerably easy to be around, even if your emotions are everywhere. He knows that during the horrible week you’ll start doubting yourself, and becoming quite irritable over everything. This said, he’s very understanding and always here to reassure you; especially if everything comes down like a rumbling rock, and you start crying. He knows that the cramps hurt, and it’s just your hormones being wacky, which, when you’re being snarky, or rude, he doesn’t take it personally and rather asks what he can do to help you.

When you stain the sheets, or your clothes, he makes no fuss about it, waving your embarrassment with a smile. If you continue on with apologizing, cheeks flushed and mumbling on, Kyle will cup your cheeks and make you look into his eyes: “It happens, honey. Jus’ jump in the shower, and I’ll join you if ya’ want, okay?”

When everything becomes too much, and you’re overwhelmed, crying yourself to sleep while the wind whistles at the window, Kyle will stay with you. Wrapping you up in soft blankets, holding you whilst pressing kisses on your cheeks and shoulders; whispering loving words and telling you how strong you are for surviving this every 28 days.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

At a young age, his mother taught him very strictly on how to treat his lover when they are on their period. With this, he’s extremely attentive, and has the bathroom stocked with everything you need; the calendar day circled in red for remembrance.

Johnny is really excellent at picking up cues, especially during your period. He’s quick to learn how to deal with certain things and what makes you feel better. He may be uncertain with some stuff, such as mood changes, but he knows better than to comment on it.

The whole time, he’s all over you, even if nothing hurts. Johnny is constantly supplying you with many heating pads, cuddles and kisses, and the food you love to snack on. Most of the time, you’re wearing his clothes, and hoodies. He buys you a bunch of chocolate, and flowers depending on the day of the week; doing anything to put a smile on your pretty face.

He really enjoys preparing nice baths on the days when it’s extremely painful. Using bath salts to relax your aching muscles. With how attentive he is, and being practically hovering, he’s sitting outside the tub, talking to you and ensuring that he’s not disgusted or embarrassed by the flowing blood in the water.

Speaking of blood, he isn’t grossed out all about you staining your clothes, or the bedsheets; it happens, and it can’t be controlled — much more playfully joking around when you being a ‘hot bloody mess’, and trying to direct your embarrassment to jumping in the shower. When you get out, new boxers and his hoodie is awaiting you on the bed, as well as a massage and a bunch of kisses.

When struggling with mood swings, and becoming a bit rude, Johnny rarely takes them offensively — taking them with stride, and nodding with duck lips, leaving the room and coming back with comfort food. Of course, at times, the words you spill sting, but he never takes the things personal.

—

Masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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slightly-smarter-nat · 1 year

Note

What about a Natasha Romanoff X female avenger!R where Natasha has constant nightmares and has a hard time falling asleep. Then one night she finds R in the compound living room watching TV or something cause R is a night owl or just hanging around, so the red head joins her. It’s going great and Nat starts to relax but then R starts giving signs of heading to bed but Nat prolongs or suggests other things to do like have tea, watch a movie, braid hair, paint nails, anything she can come up with to not let R leave her alone and having to go back to sleep in fear of the nightmares coming back. Eventually R catches on what’s happening and asks why Nat is not letting her go to sleep and the Russian confesses, feeling guilty for keeping R from going to bed. But then R suggests Nat sleep in her room, like a sleepover, and by the end feelings are confessed! Sorry for being specific!! You write Natasha so well and on point!! I always love seeing (reading) this soft side of her!!

Favourite Person || Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, mention of trauma, mentions of the Red Room, explicit language. If I have missed any warnings, please let me know.

Word Count: 5127 words.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request Anon, (I’m so sorry it’s late). To the anon that requested this fic, if you are not happy with it and would like me to re-write it, I will happily do so. I hope you all enjoy! Please note this is an au so some character’s behaviours may be different to what is expected.

Please do not repost (on here or any social media platform), copy, translate or take ownership of my work. Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated <3.

Masterlist

****************

Favourite Person: Natasha Romanoff-

“No, no please- just let me go!”

The somewhat delicate yet rasping sounds of pleading whimpers of desired escape fill the momentarily still bedroom belonging to that of Natasha Romanoff.

Desperate intakes of air in combination with mind numbing struggles against a dream-like battle that she fails to overcome each night she’s graced with even a substantial set of hours to sleep, plague her traumatised mind.

With one final desperate gust of air surging through her windpipe, she forces her now awakened self up from the sweat-tainted mattress that supports her body.

Glistening, tear-filled eyes frantically roam the features of the room as Natasha scans her environment for any potential intruder destined to cause harm to her.

With a soft and grounding clutch to her Anchor shaded comforter, she concludes that she’s safe for another night; and that her wicked past has once again robbed her of another night of a peaceful and yet craved slumber.

Natasha can’t help as her hands roam her heated skin, having the urge to fidget as her mind fails to come down from the relentless period of memories belonging to that of the Red Room- ones that she would be ever so quick to forget if she was given the opportunity.

Knowing any further hours designated to sleep were off the table, Natasha leans her trembling body over to her bedside table- hoping to deliver herself a well needed drink of water to not only lessen her now dry throat, but to have the calming effect needed to slow her rapidly pacing heart rate down.

Much to her dismay, as she grasps the hardened plastic cup that once held a heaped amount of water in it; she soon realises her cup is now empty.

Having had her right to drink forfeited, she releases a gentle breath of frustration, alongside a string of Russian curses at the continuous, nightly bad luck that seems to be lurking its way to her recently.

One night she hopes she can have a dreamless sleep just to gather up enough energy to carry out her duties as an Avenger, and to stop her waking mind from reliving the nightmares from the night before. Though that seems like too much to ask.

Refusing to re-enter her nightmares once more during the nightly period, she sleepily hoists her body out from between her sheets. Ensuring she gives herself a moment to steady her breathing before leaving her darkened room.

Knowing she is ready, she quickly swipes her empty cup from her bedside table and ever so quietly makes her way to her bedroom door; taking extra care when turning the doorknob to exit the room with as minimal levels of noise as possible. She’d hate herself for disturbing any of her teammates with her late night adventure to the kitchen. Just because she can’t sleep, why should they pay the price in losing sleep also?

Little does Natasha know, one teammate in particular would lose countless hours of sleep to ensure the redhead was safe and secure in any situation- especially when her haunting dreams take their toll.

As Natasha makes her way through the narrow pathways leading to her desired location; she picks up a little tune on the side of her cup, allowing her nails to tap mindlessly against the smooth surface. Hoping her mind chooses to focus on the range of movements needed to continue the repeated pattern, opposed to the horrors lingering from within.

That is until her ears pick up on muffled voices coming from the living area of the Compound.

Natasha’s entire system freezes; in her sleepy and somewhat confused state of mind, her thoughts rush to the most terrifying conclusions:

The voices could belong to Hydra members; desperate to seek and steal documents from the Avengers. It could be the Red Room, sending their final wave of untraceable Widows to finish Natasha and Yelena off, and in the process take out the Avengers.

With a vice, tight grip now on her cup, Natasha steadily allows her feet to move herself towards the noise source in a stealthy manner- attempting to gauge the seriousness of the situation and to determine how much force will be needed to deal with the potential intruders.

Natasha unknowingly releases laboured breaths, each step filling her body with a dread that she has not felt since she was a child roaming the hallways of the Red Room itself. Desperately trying to move from one room to another without being punished for stepping in the incorrect sequence or even making too much noise when she is so harshly trained to be as silent as a whisper.

As Natasha lines her back with the edge of the wall leading to the Living Area and Kitchen, she inhales a steady breath, knocking herself into her ruthless ‘Black Widow’ nature. With a hardened glare, she moves her line of sight around the corner to which her entire demeanour drops as soon as she spots the unexpected scene unfolding in front of her.

She finds you laying across the couch haphazardly as you stare at the TV screen illuminating the room in a gentle, blue hue as the muffled voices that Natasha mistakenly thought to be intruders continue- seemingly now belonging to the show that entraps your attention currently.

Natasha slowly moves closer to you, noticing more details as she approaches: like how one of your legs swings over the edging of the sofa in a careless motion as you stare at the images dancing across the screen; how you lazily place singular pieces of popcorn on your tongue in anticipation to bite down on the slightly hardened texture of the food item. Even how you carefully rest your head on your supported hand, tilting your gaze in wonderment of the information being gathered from the show of your choice.

She can’t help but stare at you in awe, finding it highly difficult to recall an instance where she has known you to be so calm and collected. Even being in your presence has removed some of the tension that had been built up in her muscles since she woke up from her nightmare.

She must admit, she’s relieved to find you of all people out here. Out of all the members of the team recently, you’ve been one of the only ones who can effortlessly put a smile on her face- something she is in desperate need of in her current state.

Having the overwhelming sense to join you, she chooses to clear her throat, snapping you out of your TV trance once you register her presence.

You quickly reach for the TV remote and eagerly press down on the mute button as you go to speak to Natasha, “Oh, hey, sorry did I wake you up?”

Natasha quickly shakes her head, “No, I just- I wanted some more water. I didn’t expect anyone else to be up so late.” Natasha silently scolds herself for her awkward stuttering for an answer. Though she knows she’s not quite ready to burden you with her night terrors, part of her feels the added weight of keeping the anxiety surrounding them in once more.

You push yourself up from the couch with a slight groan, having been in the same position for several hours straight, “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m more of a ‘night owl’ than anything so usually I watch my shows in my room but my TV is busted. Tony said he will fix it for me tomorrow so this is more of a one off.” You say as you gesture to the scene around you.

Natasha takes in your words as she draws invisible patterns on her cup, “Don’t apologise, it’s nice to have some company at this time of night.” Natasha says genuinely, usually having to face the aftermath of her nightmares alone until the more reasonable hours of the morning.

“What are you watching?” She attempts to guide the conversation forward.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Natasha to show an interest, “Oh, um Cupcake Wars.” You answer with glee.

Natasha smirks at your show choice, “Cupcake Wars? Really?” She says in a humoured manner.

You tilt your head with a narrowed gaze, “Judgment? Really?” You remark in a light manner, earning a chuckle from the Black Widow herself.

You lick your lips before you go to speak again, “You can blame Yelena for this, I wasn’t even into it until she made me watch it.”

Natasha scoffs in disbelief, never having assumed Yelena would even be into shows such as this, “Yelena? My sister? The lean, mean Mac n’ Cheese loving machine?”

You laugh at her words, knowing upon Yelena’s arrival to the Avengers she was eager to let it be known of her efficiency as a former member of the Red Room and how ambitious she can be in her line of work, but to her Sister and friends, she’s as soft as they come.

“Well yes, your sister, who I happened to be paired up with on a Recon Mission in December, decided that we needed to fulfil our ‘authentic American Christmas’, by watching the ‘Holiday Special’ of this series whilst we waited for Hydra to mess up and give us intel. Ever since then we’ve watched every episode, and we can mutually agree it’s the best decision we have ever made.” You playfully put it to Natasha, knowing she loves hearing the details of how well Yelena is settling into her new life away from the Red Room- the now secure life the two of them deserve.

Natasha beams at the information, relieved that Yelena is finding comfort within the Avengers, “Thank you for including her.” Natasha simply says, extremely grateful for your kindness, not only towards her, but to her little sister.

You smile at Natasha’s words, “Of course, it’s the same kindness you showed me when I first arrived at the Compound.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at your words, “Oh, believe me, it was a hard task being kind to you. You were feral.” Natasha attempts to tease you, knowing your first impressions of each other has been a running gag in your friendship for years.

You release an exaggerated gasp at her words, “Well, we both know I had Tony as my mentor so what did everyone expect to happen honestly?! I think I turned out pretty good considering my Avenger upbringing.” You lift yourself up to tuck one of your legs underneath yourself, seemingly becoming more engaged in the conversation through excitement of having Natasha close by.

Natasha pouts her lip and nods along to your words, “Sure, sure, we’ll let you believe that y/l/n.”

You quickly pick up a piece of popcorn to throw at Natasha, allowing your joyful laughs to fill the room.

Natasha easily catches the rogue piece of Popcorn, shoving it into her mouth for good measure, before bringing up the subject she has been dreading since she engaged in conversation with you, “I guess I had better grab my drink and leave you be. Goodnight, y/n.”

Your momentarily excited features drop slightly at Natasha’s words and loss of presence, you love being in her company. Majority of the time she’s the main source of happiness you can grasp at, with having some horrific events occur from your job, it’s refreshing having that comfort person you can call your friend- that person being Natasha.

Part of you also picks up on the depressed features of Natasha’s posture; usually present when something is on her mind or after a gruelling Mission.

You fail to anticipate your own moves when you hear Natasha returning from the Kitchen area of the Compound. Before you have time to think, your mouth opens up to release your next statement, “Hey, Nat. Would you like to watch a movie or something? This episode is nearly done and I’m not quite ready to go to bed yet.” You attempt to place the reasonings behind your question on yourself, hoping that if there is something Natasha wants to talk about, that she will feel comfortable enough to do so if she feels as though you invited her to hang out with yourself; rather than her having to ask.

Natasha stops her movements at your words, a flood of relief building up inside herself at your question. She desperately wanted to ask you herself, but the nipping feeling of guilt from intrusion of your alone time played on her mind so much so that she was too afraid to stay in your company.

As the overwhelming emotion of reassurance takes over Natasha, she chooses to nod at your question; failing to hide the string of grateful tears that line her exhausted eyes and knowing a waver in her voice would give away her fear of the night.

When Natasha moves to round the couch, she can’t help but smile at your effort to clear the perfect space for her to join you.

You instantly begin a clear down of the area, removing stray pieces of popcorn that somehow fell from your grasp during your Cupcake Wars marathon. You move to straighten up the charcoal tinted pillows; fluffing them up to mimic a comforting environment for Natasha to settle in to.

Once you look over your work and determine the couch to be satisfactory for Natasha, you dramatically wave for her to sit down. To which she does with an eye roll and a laugh.

As you reach for the TV remote and settle into your previous spot on the couch, Natasha sets her cup of water on the coffee table, waiting for you to choose the perfect movie for the two of you to watch together.

Though to her surprise, you stretch your arm out towards her, handing her the remote for control of the TV.

Natasha quirks a curious eyebrow at your gesture, “Y/n, what are you doing?”

You match her curious look at her question, “I want you to choose what we watch, Nat. Pick anything, I don’t mind.” You say with a comforting smile of reassurance.

Natasha hesitantly removes the remote from your outstretched hand, studying the array of buttons decorating it, “Are you sure? This is your time to-“

You interrupt Natasha, remembering the countless times she has been refused a choice on movie night, due to Tony’s unfair system of choosing the designated movie of the night- somehow it always ends up being one of his favourites…

“Natasha, I am more than positive that I want you to choose. Plus, this is our shared time to hang out, pick anything you would like.”

Natasha stares at you for a moment longer, attempting to detect a hint of change in your answer. When she realises you’re serious in your offer, she uses the the button to scroll through endless amounts of movie titles that all blend into a colourful blur after a minute or two.

That is until her eyes land on one of her comfort movies- Moonraker.

She allows the remote’s cursor to hover over the poster assigned to the James Bond movie on the list available, determining her options on how to approach asking you if this was an acceptable choice.

You soon notice the longing of the highlighted movie choice on the screen and the conflicted features crossing Natasha’s face as she has her own mental battle.

You turn yourself to gather Natasha’s attention, “Hey, is this the movie you want to watch?” You gently ask, trying not to push her in any way.

Natasha fidgets with the remote in her hands as she ponders a response, “Yeah, it’s a comfort movie. Is that okay?” She asks you calculatedly, worried you’ll reject the idea.

You reach over the back of the couch for a blanket left behind from a previous movie night, styling it out to cover yourself, “Of course it is, I’d love to watch it with you Natasha. Put it on,” You say as you tap the open space next you, alongside a lift of the blanket, intended to cover Natasha with.

Natasha wastes no time in pressing play to start the movie as she slides across the couch and into your embrace. What may seem as a small gesture to you, is a relieving gesture for Natasha.

Not only have you granted her the comfort of her go to movie of all time, but embracing her in a warm manner heightens the idea of Natasha being truly safe within the Compound.

As the two of you snuggle into the couch in anticipation of watching the movie; all the previous, dark thoughts from earlier in the night have evaded Natasha’s mind completely.

Hopefully it remains that way.

——-

Just as the final scene of the movie commences; the end credits begin to roll out on the screen, signifying the end of the action-packed sequence.

Natasha continues to watch the screen in a dazed state, happily losing herself within the familiar scenes of Moonraker.

However, she comes back to her senses once she feels you stretch your body out from beneath her, having cuddled up to you closer and closer as the movie has played.

You quickly finish stretching your arms and legs out, you take a moment to glance at your watch and release a low whistle at the time illuminating your watch face, “Wow, 4 am already? Shit, sorry Nat, I didn’t mean to keep you up so long.” You start to push yourself up from the cushioned layer of the couch, signalling for Natasha to move up also.

As she discards the blanket aside, a wave of uneasiness settles within her. She doesn’t want to go back to bed now, she dreads to think of what horrors await her in her dreams once she closes her eyes again. She was beginning to feel safe in your company, but now you’re readying yourself to go to bed, she’s terrified that you’ll leave her alone with her thoughts.

With her endless thoughts of torment, she stares at the now blank TV in thought. You notice her vacant expression, allowing you to kneel down in front of her and gently place your hands on her knees.

Natasha jumps slightly at your touch, however she soon places her hands on top of yours to signal that your comforting efforts are welcome, “Natasha, are you ready to head back to bed?” You ask cautiously, remaining ignorant to the issue at hand.

Natasha rubs her soft hands across the delicate skin of yours as she goes to speak, “You know, we’ve still got a bit of time to hang out before the others get up. We could try some of that new tea brand Tony bought as a trial for the Team; we could watch another movie, there’s plenty of James Bond movies for you to catch up on-“

Your eyes scan Natasha’s face as she rambles out endless ways in which the two of you should stay up for a little bit longer, “Natasha-“

Natasha shakes her head as she continues her plea, desperate for you to agree with her and stay up, “Oh, I could show you how to do those Dutch braids you like in your hair. You’re always saying how much you want to learn-“

“Natasha!”

The raise in your voice throws Natasha out of her rant, unwillingly sending a pang of fear into her chest.

As you recognise the disheartening features spreading across Natasha’s persona, you make an effort to rub reassuring circles on her arms, encouraging her to relax, “What’s going on? Why are you so adamant for us to stay up?”

Natasha fails to conceal the tears that line her eyes once again, frustration making itself known, “I can’t tell you, you’ll think I’m being ridiculous.” She whispers out, not caring that you’re seeing her in what she’d consider a weakened state.

You move to sit next to her closely, wrapping a protective arm around her, “Natasha, I could never think you’re ridiculous. You’re the strongest person I know, and if something is upsetting you this much- to the point where you don’t want me to go to bed, then I want to do everything in my power to help you. I promise you, I won’t judge you, I just want to help.”

Natasha allows her tears of despair to run down her face as she looks at you, understanding the sincerity of your words. She chooses to confide in you, “Ever since I could remember, I’ve had the most horrific dreams from my time in the Red Room, and even from certain Missions. They feel so real, I hear the pain from past victims of my actions; the drilling voices of those who kept me in the Red Room and made me what I am today-“

You give Natasha the room to talk, hating the fact you didn’t pick up on her suffering sooner- though this is Natasha Romanoff, when she wants to hide something, she does so without a trace.

“Usually when I wake up, everyone else is asleep so I just wait until someone else wakes up and pretend I got up early to train or something. No one ever notices, I hide it well, just like I’ve been taught to all these years. Then tonight, you were here, and I just felt safe and secure, you just know how to make me feel calm and appreciated. I’m sorry for putting this on you y/n, I just wanted to feel safe.”

You turn away briefly from Natasha to hide your own tears upon hearing her pain, with one deep breath you move to rest your forehead on top of Natasha’s fiery red locks, “Natasha, you’re not putting anything on me okay. I mean it when I say I want to do everything in my power to make you feel safe. I understand why you wanted to stay up longer, but do you think if we go to bed in my room or something, you might feel safe enough to sleep?”

Natasha slowly lifts her head up from under yours to catch your gaze, “You’d do that for me?”

You instantly nod, “Of course I will, I’ll do anything for you Natasha.”

Natasha bites her lip at your words, never having believed she could be so lucky to have someone like you in her life, “Thank you y/n. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

You pick yourself up from the couch and hold a supportive hand out to Natasha, which she gladly takes. Once you have switched all the necessary devices off in the living area and kitchen, you guide Natasha to your bedroom, “I think I do, but you’re still going to teach me how to braid my hair right?” You question Natasha, earning a light chuckle from her.

“I suppose I can look over my very busy schedule and fit you in somewhere.” Natasha lets out, allowing the anxieties of the night to vacate her mind.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of room in your schedule for your favourite person.” You reply, mindlessly following the corridors to your designated area of the compound.

Once you arrive at your door, Natasha raises a tired yet questioning brow, “Who said you were my favourite?”

You give her a light shrug, “I just know you can’t argue with logic.”

Natasha smirks as she moves into your room, noticing the minor details scattered across the area that makes the room entirely yours, once you move to switch your bedside lamp on to highlight the features more.

Natasha stands in the middle of the room, hesitant to move anywhere without your word.

You make quick work of straightening out your bed for Natasha; hiding any loose items that are long overdue their clean up as you refuse to admit the last time your room had a good clean out.

“Okay, the bed is ready for you. I’ll take the couch-“

Natasha frowns at your words, “We’re not sharing?”

You stop your actions as you attempt to make the couch into a makeshift bed for the night, “I don’t mind taking the couch honestly, it’s… comfy.” You say in an unconvincing tone, earning an eye roll from Natasha.

“Come on, we can share the bed, I don’t bite.” Natasha says as she eagerly settles into your soft and comforting sheets.

You silently release a breath of relief, having saved your back from a rough night of sleep on the outdated couch lumbered in your room.

Once you switch off your light, you easily slide into the other side of the bed, next to Natasha. Allowing your body to relax itself into your heavenly, cushioned mattress.

Assuming the sudden silence was reserved for sleeping, you close your eyes and bask in your comforting surroundings. Until a voice fills the hushed atmosphere, “Are you still awake?”

You release a relaxed breath as you go to reply, “Yeah, are you?”

Natasha releases a laugh from beside you, “Who do you think asked you doofus.” Natasha teases.

You roll on your side to face Natasha, using the minor elements of moonlight seeping through your blinds to study Natasha’s magnificent features, “Well J.A.R.V.I.S is quite the conversationalist at night, so pardon me for being curious to whom I am addressing Romanoff.” You say in the most serious tone you can muster- extremely low severity.

Natasha smiles brightly at your lightheartedness, “Sometimes I do wonder about you y/l/n.”

You tilt your head in challenge at Natasha’s words, “Oh yeah? What do you wonder about Nat?”

Natasha’s features fall into a stoic nature as she thinks of what to say, “I wonder how someone as loving and caring as you, would willingly want to hang around with someone like me?”

Your body shifts in discomfort at her words, sensing a tone of insecurity, “Someone like you? That’s not a bad thing Natasha.”

Natasha nods at your words, “It is, y/n, I know how people see me. Some ruthless monster who’s only worth is that of being a product of the Red Room. An assassin, produced to kill without fear or hesitation-“

You abruptly push yourself up to study Natasha in disbelief, “Natasha, that’s your nightmares talking. The Natasha I know, the real Natasha is so kind, considerate and incredible. You never fail to care for those around you. Hell, I bet you’ve saved more lives being an Avenger, than lives you were forced to take under the Red Room. Natasha you’re worth so much more than a brand under the Red Room.”

Natasha looks away from you as you continue your truths, having only her nightmares confirm her greatest fears.

“Natasha, you do realise none of the past was your fault. The Red Room took you, melted your mind and melded it into something cruel. It wasn’t your fault they did that to you and it certainly isn’t your fault that they controlled you to a point where you weren’t even of a conscious mind to understand the consequences of the actions they ordered you to do.”

You gently cup Natasha’s face and instantly swipe away a pained tear escaping her eye, “You’re not a monster, you’re a hero- my hero. Nat, you inspire me to be the best Avenger I can be. You inspire so many people around the world to protect others and do what is right. If I ever hear anyone saying anything different, I’ll kick their ass.” You add for good measure, earning a dry chuckle from Natasha.

“You’re not part of the Red Room, you’re Natasha Romanoff- Avenger, Hero and quite honestly the best thing this Planet has ever given us-“

Your words of wisdom are cut off once Natasha attaches her lips to yours, fulfilling every ounce of gratitude into one delicate and addictive kiss.

As Natasha slowly pulls away, she can’t help but bite her lip in amusement at your dazed features, “You can breathe you know y/n.”

You blink extremely slowly as your mind is sent into a frenzy of pure happiness, “Um, what were we talking about?” You suddenly ask, not knowing what else to do under the current circumstances.

Natasha pulls you down onto the bed as she moves to rest her head on your chest- its rightful space, “I’m pretty sure we were talking about how you’re my favourite person?” Natasha playfully adds.

You nod along as you pull Natasha closer towards you, “Hmm, that does sound accurate.”

With a quick mumble of ‘dork’ from Natasha, the two of you settle down for a night of slumber. Finding safety and security in each other’s arms.

——-

Soft, delicate finger tipped brushes against your rib cage wake you up from your relaxed slumber.

As your eyes flutter open, they meet ethereal green irises as they study your sleepy state.

Natasha leans up to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, allowing you to release a sigh of content at the comforting gesture, “Good morning, y/n/n.”

You sleepily smile at the sound of Natasha’s raspy voice, never failing to have your heart fluttering in excitement, “Good morning Nat, how did you sleep?” You nervously ask, hoping with every ounce of your being that she was able to rest after her nightmares.

Natasha initially responds with a glamorous smile, allowing you to replicate it to the same effect, “That was probably the best sleep I’ve had in over ten years.” She giddily lets out.

You pull her into your embrace, “No nightmares?”

Natasha nods to confirm, “No nightmares.”

You place an ecstatic kiss on the crown of her head, over the moon with the possibility that Natasha may be able to escape her nightmares.

“You know, maybe we should make this sleepover thing a permanent thing?” You ask sleepily.

Natasha hums at your words, “Well, I don’t see why not. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

You laugh at Natasha's choice of comfort, “What about the person you’re currently cuddling?”

Natasha shrugs lightly, “I suppose they’re okay, the cuddles are a bonus.”

You smile at her words, “Well maybe I’ll have to deduct the cuddle clause from the agreement.”

Natasha tightens her grip on your body impossibly tight, “Try it and you’ll see why they say my Widow Bite Stings pack a nasty punch.”

“Oh well, we wouldn’t want to test that out.”

“Nope.” Natasha replies as she settles back into your embrace.

You allow a few seconds to pass before you bring up your next question, “What if-“

“No.” Natasha says with a flick of her fingers delivered to your forehead, eager to have you sleep in a little bit longer.

It’s safe to say that Natasha Romanoff is most definitely your favourite person.

—————————

Taglist: @beefromanoff

#natasha romanoff #marvel #mcu #black widow #natasha romanoff one shot #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fan fic #slightly smarter nat’s writing #slightly smarter nat #slightly smarter nat’s requests #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha x reader #anon request #black widow x reader #avenger reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic

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theemporium · 1 year

Note

Ok Remus xfem!reader where reader gets her period on a full moon and her and Remus are just comforting each other pretty please and thank you <3

thank you for requesting!🖤

The two of you were quite a sight to see.

In the year or so you had been dating Remus Lupin, never once had your cycles ever coincided or clashed. Not a single time. They had always been roughly two or so weeks apart, during a period where one of you could look after the other when it was needed. Where you could spend the time comforting each other, being the support the person needed.

Until this month.

Neither you nor Remus had even realised until the dates clashed. You hadn’t been keeping track of your period, especially not so close to the full moon when you knew Remus needed the extra crutch by his side for the days approaching and the days following.

You had kissed him on the lips just before the sunset and he disappeared into the woods with the other boys, murmuring soft ‘I love you’s against each other’s lips before you headed back to your dorm for the night.

Remus was concerned when he returned to the castle the next day, exhausted and on his way back from receiving a simple tonic from Madam Pomfrey, only to find you weren’t waiting for him at breakfast as usual. He hadn’t even bothered sitting down with the others before he made his way back to the tower to find you.

He found you curled up in bed, your duvet pulled up to your chin and your brows furrowed together. He barely remembered his own exhaustion as he quickly made his way to your side, hand on your cheek and he knew from the look on your face.

He knew you started your period.

Remus didn’t say anything as he pulled the duvet up, settling into the bed behind you and wrapping his arms around you. He tugged your body close, warm hands tucked under your top and pressed against your stomach, and you sighed.

“Can we just stay here forever?” you murmured into the quiet room.

“We can stay as long as you like, love,” he murmured back, pressing a long, light kiss to the crown of your head.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at breakfast,” you said to him, your hands settling over his.

“Don’t be,” he assured you. “This is where I want to be with you anyways.”

Your lips twitched. “Reckon we could convince someone to bring us food?”

“Lily probably has Prongs sending us a whole three course meal as we speak,” Remus mused, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck. He closed his eyes, his cheek pressed against the light thump of your pulse and he let the feeling soothe him. “Fuck, I needed this.”

“Rough night?” you asked, your eyes falling shut as his fingertips began to draw random circles against your stomach.

“Just the usual,” he murmured, letting out a deep breath. “We can talk about it later.”

“Okay,” you whispered, not fighting off the exhaustion any longer.

You would wake up in a few hours and find that you had turned in your sleep, your arms now wrapped around the waist of your boyfriend and his hand protectively placed on the back of your head. A charmed tray of food that was still warm would be by your bed, along with a small note and a painkiller tonic for both of you.

You wouldn’t move much for the rest of the day but even with the clashing cycles, you and Remus were there to comfort each other regardless.

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rainswept · 7 months

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you ask for Fontaine brain rot/reqs, I deliver.

So idk if you've done the recent archon quest and lyney/lynette story quest so if you haven;t be careful caus i will be spoling !

That part where Lyney is freaking out over Freminet and Lynette had me SCREAMING especially since ive done their story quest AND ALSO FRIENDSHIP 10 LYNEY SO I HAVE THE LORE AND IT HURTS SM but I won't spoil all that for u-

so anyways, i started thinking, imagine Lyney has a lover who's been with the siblings for years (and also works for Arlecchino) and is considered another sibling by Lynette and Freminet. They were also diving with Freminet when they encountered water from the primordial sea

now imagine clorinde can only take one person with her at a time when she pulls them back, and she saves Freminet first, later going back for Lyney's s/o

Eventually Freminet wakes up like he does in the quest, but the reader just.. doesn't. Hours pass and the siblings are freaking tf out because they don't want to lose anyone.

(now I can't decide if I crave angst or if I want to comfort my babies so ill give my headcanons for both shiguegoe)

angst: Lyney's lover keeps deteriorating, parts of them gradually turning blue and quite literally withering away (caus you know the water and the dissapearances- yeah-) and the siblings can do nothing but watch

Lynette shuts down more frequently and for longer periods, not even saying anything to Lyney

Freminet blames himself for not noticing sooner, for not getting them out sooner

And then there's Lyney.. he blames himself for not only putting his siblings in danger, but losing his lover...

He sits by their bed watching as they wither away, holding their hand. He knows Father will be upset by his lack of comitment to the mission but he can't bring himself to care

The day they pass, no one says a word. They continue with their mission, report to Father, go on with their Fontainian lives until they're alone and they cry. they cry and scream and curse whatever archons or god's are listening.

AND NOW BEFORE I CRY THE HAPPIER VERSION

After days of not waking up, they finally open their eyes.

Lyney is fretting over them asking if they know where they are, who he is, what happened etc

now to throw in a tidbit of angst, what if they awoke with some disability? like they cant see anymore, they can't hear properly, cant walk properly etc

Lyney and Freminet would devasted because they blame themselves. Lynette would be quick to remind her brothers at least everyone is alive.

It'd be bad because with a disability, they can't work for Father anymore, or at least not the way they used to

AHHEOGUHEOG im stuck in a neverending brain rot my guy

Anyways. I was actually going to request for you to write your own take on this but you don't have to if you dont want- even just hearing your take would be nice lmao

also if its ok i reallly wanna be mutuals! I just found you blog and im obssesed!! I really wanna be friends<3

NO BECAUSE I SCREECHED SO LOUD MULTIPLE TIMES READING THIS !! THANK U SO MUCH YES OFC I WANNA BE MUTUALS/FRIENDS!! genuinely absolutely made my day to have u ask that oh my god??

also don’t worry about spoiling anything for me, i’ve read every little bit of lyney/lynette/freminet lore out there 😭 and i’ve done all of the new fontaine archon quests already (i need help. it’s okay though!)

as for angst — u know me so well already this is my forte. cracks knuckles here i go

freminet feels as if something is off.

already beginning to panic, he turns to you in a hurry. the water swishes in his ears. when you meet his gaze, wide-eyed, the gut ‘feeling’ turns into a full-blown punch to it. oh, now he realizes; he can’t breathe. his heart’s racing, chest tightening and throat feeling as if it’s closing up.

you reach out, and exchanging unspoken words, you two turn around and make to retrace your patterns with haste. hand in hand, you race against frittered time; but even your best efforts are not enough, and the both of you are forced to acknowledge it when freminet’s vision begins to turn spotty.

he got in the water first; he’s gone before you are. his body floats limp beside you as you drag him along through the water, even as the surroundings grow hazy for you, too. a cold tingle runs up your spine as you consider the possibility; is this the end?

(when you had left for the pipes, the most you had exchanged with lyney was a quick kiss on the cheek as a goodbye. that wouldn’t do.)

but even as you try desperately to cling to life .. the “sea” is a cruel thing, and it does not care for your mortal frivolities. (a proper goodbye? .. foolish.) with cold, disorienting water enveloping your senses from all sides, your only grounding thing being freminet’s (rapidly cooling) fingers against yours — it didn’t take long before you succumbed to the “sea”, too.

(your last thought as the world went dark was “i’m sorry.”)

(even in your barely conscious state, you feel another wave of panic surge through you when freminet’s fingers slip away from yours — but you don’t have enough energy to hold on.)

reader lives:

the incessant thrum of the water rushing through pipes rattled in your ears. your whole body was sore, weak and tired; and all of your limbs felt like lead attached to you via shoddy workmanship. your head hurt like hell, and what’s worse is that the moment you opened your eyes, you were immediately met with the sight of the three people you cherished most.

first, there was freminet, who was sitting on the bed opposite to yours. his posture fixes from a slouch into proper the moment he spots you, perhaps in.. excitement? shock? you weren’t sure. his eyes lit up, though.

second, there was lynette. she was .. a bit more on edge than usual. that was .. to be expected, of course, but really. you were out for.. what, an hour or two? come on, all four of you put yourselves in danger all the time. what was different about this?

(what was different was the fact that you were not out for an hour or two. no, make that days. they were sure to remind you of this.)

then, there was lyney. for him, the world seemed to stop.

lyney, who was pacing the room in sheer desperation. he walked and walked, boots timed and in tune with the clocks and dripping water from the pipes. in his nervousness, he had unwittingly created a quite fitting melody.

(the only sounds once he ceases walking are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.)

lyney, who had rushed to your bedside the moment he had noticed you were up. he looked exhausted, but the second you were awake the mask was .. attempted .. to be put back on. however .. it didn’t take someone as observant as you, or even one who knew him so well, to notice that it was placed crooked.

(how absurd he looked, trying to put on a front everyone in the room knew was one.)

why, even, you would have bet that it could’ve been surmised by a child. once again, emphasis on ‘you would have’, for there was no time for thinking about that when he rushed to your bedside and enveloped you into an embrace. you didn’t miss the way his fingers grasped at the back of your shirt in downright desperation.

(in clear, bold letters, it reads; “if nothing else, please let this be real.”)

he slots himself beside you and, wordlessly, holds you close. he doesn’t need words — neither of you do. this is enough.

lynette and freminet looked on, neither of them opening their mouths when lyney buries his face into the crook of your neck and stays there for just a bit too long. he doesn’t cry. instead, he whispers shakily against your skin; “i thought i’d lost you.”

(the only sounds once he ceases speaking are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.

(no one speaks up just yet.)

(the only sounds in the room are the clocks and the water dripping from the pipes.)

(you’re starting to think those were the only sounds ever there.)

when he finally pulls away, you notice he’s fixed his mask. lyney now smiles, and the shake in his voice is gone; but you know it’s not all better, not when he refuses to leave the infirmary even after sigewinne and the traveler inquire. you know it’s not all better, not when the four of you are alone again. lyney sits beside you on the bed, refusing to so much as stand up (he doesn’t want to let go of your hand. you don’t comment on it, but his fingers are still shaky as he holds onto yours like they’re a lifeline.)

you don’t exchange as much as a single word after that. you just bask in each other’s presence, apologies and pleas and “i love you” shared during every lingering glance between everyone in the room.

the four of you don’t need words. this is enough.

reader dies:

seven mistakes went unnoticed. seven signs went unfollowed. seven things (and five people) went wrong that day.

one: freminet.

it was entirely freminet’s fault, he thinks, it was. if only he had gotten you out of there in time. no — he shouldn’t have even brought you. he sits on the infirmary bed opposite to yours, knees pulled up to his chest, and he clutches pers with a death grip. he dips his head in such a way that his face is hidden with his hair; he doesn’t want to let lyney and lynette see him in this state. they have enough to deal with.

two: the primordial sea.

but they were bound to notice eventually, right?

“it was entirely the primordial sea’s fault,” lynette would remind, hand on freminet’s shoulder. “it wasn’t yours.”

the primordial sea. the cold and vicious waters were such a contrast to those he held so dear; what was typically calming and merciful turned to something suffocating and terrifying. but that didn’t change the fact that it was an inanimate thing.

he drops pers at the contact; it clatters to the floor; he looks down, wide-eyed and apologetic; he reaches down to pick it up. lynette does not put her hand on his shoulder again.

three: wriothesley.

“it was entirely wriothesley’s fault,” lyney wants to scream. he’s frantic, pacing the infirmary and voice cracking every time he speaks. lynette and freminet have seldom seen him so panicked. he needs to do something, he needs— he can’t. he can’t leave. once he gets his hands on wriothesley, he swears he’ll—

four: clorinde.

it was entirely clorinde’s fault. it was entirely her choice to pick only one of you to save. no one can bring themselves to be upset at her, for she did try to save both of you. but the realization slowly dawns upon the three children of the house of the hearth still with a steady heartbeat; it was either going to be you or freminet.

they realize this at different times. every time they do, they exchange a silent, quick glance.

freminet would’ve gladly given up his life. lyney and lynette, however .. they would not have been able to choose.

five: the gods.

it was entirely the gods’ fault. curse the gods, lyney thinks. he’s still pacing the room, and while he never put much stock in the divine, he was practically yelling at them now. he knew it wasn’t logical. but he needed something. what was the point of a god if not to help their people? what was the point of a god if just to watch people suffer like it’s an opera?

was she here now? was she watching? was this a “twist” for her? did she delight in this?

six: lyney.

it was entirely lyney’s fault. he shouldn’t have let you or freminet go. he shouldn’t have. he shouldn’t have let wriothesley play him like he was a deck of cards in his hands. this was all his fault. all his fault. he knew of the prophecy, dedicated his whole life to it — and yet hadn’t managed to save you from its clutches?

seven: you.

in truth — it was no one’s fault. but lyney is still pacing the room, breathing getting heavier and more rapid every time he steals a glance at you. lynette’s eyes still trace his every move, conveniently ignoring the sight of you as best she could; and freminet still has his face buried in his knees as to not look at your decaying body.

none of them can deal with the fact that it was simply an accident. no one meant for this to happen — there was no one to blame.

they needed someone to blame.

so each and every one of them blamed themselves. as lyney’s fingers grasped your cold ones, he squeezed them softly even as they began to turn blue beneath his grasp. he couldn’t bare to let you go.

and after three long days, the sun rose to find your bed empty where you had laid. you were nowhere to be found. for a moment, lyney’s heart practically leapt out of his chest, wondering .. did you get up?

but as he rushes to the bedside, his face falls. he should’ve known not to get his hopes up.

the blankets were damp where you had laid, soaked with water just as the stage in the opera epiclese had been.

lyney didn’t cry, nor did lynette or freminet.

they didn’t exchange so much as a word the day you died.

instead, they put their aching hearts and empty souls into the mission at hand. they worked twice as hard to distract themselves, and they provided excellent results for “father” — but they had barely worked together to do so.

they exchanged cold words and they held each other at night, when the pain became too much — because as much as they tried to pretend like nothing happened, that was a lie, just as the rest of their existence — but there was no mistaking it. they were now divided.

there was always you. and now there wasn’t.

lynette was the one who informed “father” of your .. whereabouts. lyney couldn’t bring himself to.

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