#but i do like having a raft in waiting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

namisin · 17 days

Text

❝ HOPE WHEN THE MOON GOES—

(—THAT YOU DON'T GO.)

⚝ pairing : gojo satoru x reader.

⚝ synopsis : satoru likes you to a painful degree, dare he say he loves you. everyone but you can see it. the problem? you only want to be friends (with benefits).

⚝ content : 18+, fem reader, tiniest bit of angst, fwbs to lovers, oral (m receiving), college au, piv, pet names, brief mention of dubcon? (drunk reader), mentions of alcohol, rated w for whiny gojo, pet name(s), prὁne-bone, possessiveness, praise bc he's just a sweetie, choking, reader is spoiled but so is he, MDNI.

⚝ word count : 3.2k | 11 min read. y'all idk how this happened

⚝ a/n : gege please dpwm i need my man back this INSTANT. but tysm u guys for the warm welcome !! like, comment &/or reblog for smooches on the mouf ♡

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 friday night, another club outing satoru did not wanna be on.

granted, it was a setting that would otherwise be right up his alley. satoru was the life of the party after all, the loudest one in the room without fail. but he could distinctly remember the point before your arrangement began, and after.

it didn't matter before that he could get anyone he wanted, have any warm body take up space in his king-sized bed. it didn't matter that you could do the same; dance up on anyone, grind your perfect ass against them until they had no presence of mind but to follow your piper's song to the nearest empty room. then regale your best friends with the details the next morning.

however, after the first time you propositioned him, drunk out of your mind but purring in his lap like a needy cat, it only became harder and harder for him to keep his hands to himself in public. his patience to wait out these parties to get you home wore thinner, to the point of near-nonexistence. obnoxiously thrumming bass, bodies smacking together like mindless fish caught in a net, having to yell and strain to hear his friends standing less than a foot in front of him...things he never minded at all before became all too fucking annoying.

but you've always acted as his life raft, bidding his escape with a, "wanna get out of here, toru?"

and he followed every single time, ignoring shoko's wiggling eyebrows and geto's smirking as you led the way out the door. their jeering bounced right off his skin; he felt damn-near invincible knowing he'd be having his own kind of fun, with much better music.

tonight was no different. you stood by the bar, drumming your fingers against the counter while waiting for the bartender to return with two drinks. satoru's eyes roved over your body shamelessly over the rim of oval glasses, taking in the expanse of your legs that weren't covered by your leather miniskirt and the way your top hugged to your figure. he approached with his bottom lip tucked, much like his hands in the pockets of his pants.

by the time he arrived to stand next to you, the glasses were placed down with a muted "clunk," just barely perspiring as his usual was passed into his freed palm.

"my saviour," he greeted, bent over at the waist to let the words brush against your ear, "what would i do without you?"

"mmm-mm," you shrugged, grinning in return, "probably die of thirst."

satoru exhaled sharply through his nose, rightening his posture to take a sip of his drink. he caught the double entendre he wasn't even sure you meant to drop — there was a constant thirst inside him that you really were the only cure for. a thirst to hear you whine and beg for him, call him toru in that sweet tone that made him want to legally shorten his name.

another long sip.

the way he wanted, no needed, you was almost obsessive. he knew that. but could he be blamed? you were pure temptation wrapped in the most enticing body; you were the raging flame and he was but a moth, acting on pure instinct to capture that warmth for his own. every night he spent with you was a testament to that effort, prodding and caressing your body in every way he knew how. he pulled every trick out of his book to have you writhing on his sheets. satoru was sure the neighbours hated you both, but at least they knew his name well.

"you lovebirds coming over to the table?" shoko raised a thin brow at the pair of you, an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips.

"lovebirds? sho please, you know better," you laughed, crossing the space to link arms with her.

ah. satoru felt a twinge of something pinch in his chest. that problem still remained.

he worshipped the ground you walked on, blessed your name like you were his deity, but you still only saw him as a friend. granted, he was a friend with extensive benefits, but a friend nonetheless. hell, for as long as you two have had this arrangement, you've never spent a full night with him — instead opting to scoop your clothes off the floor, grab a quick shower and bid him a soft goodnight, simultaneously calling yourself an uber as you left his apartment.

his face was much dimmer following behind you and shoko, having dropped a small wad of cash he didn't count on the bar-top, and he drew his glass back to his lips in an attempt to quell that pinching feeling.

it wasn't as if he never offered for you to stay the night, never lifted his messy sheets on the opposite side he always kept vacant for you. but, it was hard to stay persistent when you always answered with some variation of, "thanks toru, but we're just friends, remember? i don't wanna make it weird for us."

he watched your hips sway under your skirt with a furrow in his brow. the hem flapped around the very tops of your thighs, drawing other eyes that weren't his own cerulean pair to its attention. he itched to make a show of you being his — maybe throw an arm over your shoulders or lean down to peck your lips — but knew how well (not well at all) it would go down with the other party if you caught on.

it just meant he had to be the one to get you out of there sooner.

satoru let you have your fun, down a responsible-enough number of shots, twist your hips this way and that on the dancefloor with geto and shoko. they both towered over you, almost forming a protective ring of raven black and coffee brown around your twirling body, and he was grateful for it. the imagery alone of some other person creeping up behind you, grabbing at your waist in an attempt to steal a dance, was enough to tighten that vulnerable spot in his chest.

after downing the rest of his second drink, he stood, leaving another roll of money in shoko's purse and making a beeline for you on the dancefloor. geto parsed him with a knowing look as he squeezed passed them, shoko only gave a thumbs up and a wide grin. they both knew all about what went on between you two, and they knew all too well how much satoru pined over you.

if it wasn't the way he looked at you, or the way he'd mindlessly put his hands on the small of your back, on your hips, around your shoulders, then it'd have to be the fact that he grouched about it at every given opportunity. the minute you left him alone, he'd go on and on until one of them had to smack him in the back of the head to shut up.

so, watching him slot his hips to yours, immediately winding them in tandem to the beat, they understood quickly to leave the pair of you to your little world.

"let me take you out of here, y/n," he murmured, you spun in his toned arms to settle into his torso. your arms circled his neck as he pushed his nose closer to yours to bump them together.

"you stole my line," you drawled, "getting impatient on me, toru?"

satoru bit back a groan, the way you spoke coupled with the eyes you gave him from beneath the canopy of your lashes was staggering.

"maybe i am, you're holdin' out on me."

you blew a raspberry of a laugh at his frown, "you saw me last night, you baby."

"twenty-four whole hours too long."

your eyes rolled unconsciously, he could be such a little shit when he didn't have his way. still, you were never one to deny him.

"take me home then, before you start sobbing for pussy in the club."

a triumphant beam overtook his face at that, he actively disregarded the teasing lilt to your words. all he heard was "take me home," and it was like you waved kikufuku in his face.

he picked up you up easily, princess-style, making you squeal and nearly kick a patron close by. you giggled out your apologies, but satoru was already leaving, carting you off to the exit of the club.

your back landed hard against his front door when he put you down again, and his body followed right behind. your lips crashed together with fervor, teeth colliding and tongues looping around each other. you mewled so sweetly into his mouth as his hands wandered up under your top, grabbing hold of your tits over your bra. his cock twitched in its confines, you had an effect on him that would be scary if he didn't relish in it so much.

"lose this shit already," satoru huffed against your lips while tugging the hem of your blouse upwards. you obliged with the nth roll of your eyes, and with the top gone, you pulled him back down for another searing kiss.

you marked your path downward after switching your positions, pushed his shirt up to his chest to lick a wet stripe down his abs, until you came face-to-face with the sizeable bulge in his pants. he smoothed your hair away from your face while you pulled his belt buckle apart. an exhale stuttered in his chest — you mouthed around his bulge from the outside of his boxer-briefs, though with the sounds satoru made, you may as well have shoved the whole thing into your mouth.

deciding to end his misery, you hooked your manicured fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pulling his cock free to smack against your cheek. you licked another matching stripe up the underside, shadowing the pulsing trail that was his most dominant vein, then kitten-licked at his slit once you hit the peak.

with one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and the other on his thigh, you took his pretty pink tip into your mouth, and his face absolutely crumpled.

satoru groaned, long and low, his head thumping against the door as it was thrown back. you could feel the corners of your mouth tingling from the stretch, straining a little to fit around his girth despite making this journey countless times by now.

he stammered out a hiss when his tip hit the back of your throat, you would've laughed if not for the fact that you desperately held off your gag reflex. his grip on your hair tightened, coming to hold it in a fist to both keep the hair out of your face and guide your movements as you sunk further down his length. you breathed through your nose and willed your throat to relax, more broken sounds sprang from his lips as you let him in.

"f-fuck, just like that, pretty," he praised hoarsely, gently bobbing your head up and down his length with his grip on your hair. you powered through the tears flooding your lashline and the rivulets of spit accumulating to drip down your chin.

while he worked your mouth, you pried your lids apart to peer up at him, eyes rimmed red and pupils blown wide.

and that was his undoing.

his body tensed hard as he held your head down, nose right up against his pelvis and tickled with snow-white hairs. his abdomen spasmed under the point of it, undulating as he painted your throat white.

"you're so fucking good to me," he mumbled against your lips after helping you back to your feet. satoru, of course, was the shameless type to make the fuck out with you right after dumping his cum into your mouth; and he did just that. he picked you up again while his tongue swiped over yours, blindly walking you up the stairs to his bedroom.

he plopped you down unceremoniously, pulling your legs apart to sink between them. you'd lost the skirt somewhere along the way, that left nothing but your thong to separate you from satoru's still-leaking, still-hard dick. however, even those got ripped down your legs and tossed to the side — every article of clothing was a victim in his ever-expanding need for you.

"i need to fuck you, will you le'me fuck you?" he babbled in a pitchy, fissured voice, circling your clit with his fingers. he dipped them shallowly in and out of your hole to smear your wetness right across your folds. all he needed was for you to nod the affirmative before he was rapidly replacing his digits with the head of his cock, gathering your syrupy arousal to drench him.

"just suckin' me off has you this wet, hmm? i knew you liked me."

"sh-shut up and put it in already, toru- hate it when you tease."

satoru snickered, but complied, grabbing at your legs again to flip your body over. he knew you loved getting fucked prone the most, you didn't even hesitate to grab a pillow to hold on to. something about the way you seemed to scream for him that much louder, claw at the sheets and burble for him to give you more more more— made it his new favourite position too.

so, with little hesitation, he positioned and pushed his cock into you, slowly enough for you to adjust to his girth. your eyes rolled back almost immediately, the way he filled you up could never get old.

you mewled into the pillow once he found a good starting pace, dragging his cock deliciously slow against your spongy walls. still, it was only a taste of what you knew he could give to you.

"more, toru, want more- shit!"

you barely started getting the greedy words out before satoru was settling a hand on the small of your back, using it and his palm flat against the bed as leverage to drill into you. now that he knew you were adjusted, he didn't hold back — what kind of guy would he be if he didn't give his girl everything she wanted (and then some)?

drool and tears soaked into the white pillowcase while your sticky essence doused his cock, collecting in a ring at the plinth of it. repetitive strings of "fuck yes!" mingled with his deep groans to ring throughout the room, bouncing off the walls in conjunction with his hips bouncing off your plush ass. he couldn't help but free up a palm to smack it, then two, three more times when he heard how much more noisy it made you.

"g'nna cum for me? yea?" he took note of the way you started to quake beneath him, your cunt clenching and releasing uncontrollably around his length. he knew your tells by now, and that quiver in your moans told him everything without you needing to say a word. satoru secured his hand around your throat, squeezing just enough at the sides for your brain to go foggy and remaining thoughts turn to mush.

like a thief in the night, your orgasm stole through you, bringing the simmer in your blood to a boil. heat flashed through your body, collecting to pulse through the walls of your cunt that clamped down against satoru's battering. with another ruined groan, he was right behind you, cock twitching and throbbing wildly inside you. rope after rope splattered your insides, though that didn't stop his hips from jerking in a fractured pattern.

you both came down panting. you turned in his arms to look up at him, his softened eyes were already centered on your face. as mean as he was when he fucked, he was always otherwise gentle with you — tender in a way that made a part of you melt with every touch. but he was your friend, and you both had a good system going. what would be the point of ruining it?

"what're you thinkin' about so hard already?" satoru's usual pouty cadence returned quick, successfully knocking your thoughts off track.

"i need a shower," was your only reply, and you moved to crawl from beneath him. your bed-partner's features toppled into a genuine frown; he knew exactly what that meant.

you were leaving him again.

but he wouldn't let it happen this time, not if he could help it.

"wait, y/n," he moved to gently grasp your arm before you could scoot off the edge of the bed. you turned to him with question in your gaze.

"let me join you," he propositioned, and a hint of a smile pulled at your lips.

"i don't know if i have the stamina left, toru."

"i won't- we can just shower. y'know, together," he started, freeing your arm to rub at the back of his neck, "and you could, y'know, stay."

your expression turned wry, "toru, you know why i can't-"

"no, actually, y/n. i don't," he scowled, "why can't you? why don't you? we've been close enough for so long, slept together for so long. you know i can take care of you."

exasperated, you stood. he followed quick, moving to hold your arms again. even in his own displeasure, he was mild. you were melting again.

"you tell me all the time we're just friends, but what if- what if i want more? need more, than just friendship with you?"

you gawped up at him, blinking in place of something to say. of course, you always had a kind of a feeling — satoru was not the man known for his subtlety — but it was another thing to hear him say it to you, much less with this desperately pleading intonation.

"satoru, i..." you sighed, "i can't fuck this- we can't fuck this up. you're too precious to me."

"but what if we don't? you're precious to me too, y/n, more than you even know."

and for all you knew, he could be right. he was always sweet with you — patient, attentive, doting, so painfully soft. it wasn't like the thought hadn't crossed your mind before, either. you contemplated staying with him several times before, fantasized on what a 'morning after' — many 'morning-afters' — would even look like. but shit, what would you do if you one of you found a way to mess things up? topple a best-friendship you've had going for more years than you could even trace back?

"i just- i can't lose you, satoru."

"you won't. you're stuck with me forever, pretty, we promised."

he moved to cup your cheeks, holding your face akin to the way someone held precious china.

"i like you way too much. shit, at this point i think i love you."

your bottom lip wobbled. this snow-haired fuck really did always make it hard to say no to him.

"i-i like you too, toru. a lot."

"so you'll stay," he gleamed, making a statement more than he was asking a question, "please say you'll stay."

"yes, toru, fine. i'll stay."

with his smile still very much in place, he leaned down to kiss you.

god, he couldn't wait to finally wake up to you tomorrow.

501 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 days

Text

All In 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellllllooooo 😁

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The next morning comes too soon and with too little sleep. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t lay still long enough to get much rest. Every time you sunk into the shallows of sleep, you were just as quickly awoken by visions of the unknown. You don’t know anything beyond the time at which you’ll set off to your fate; nine o’clock.

You don’t need an alarm. You're already awake and alert. You sit up and rub your temples until the thumping dulls. You can’t entirely shake the pulsing thrum.

You drag yourself to your feet and cross to your dresser. You open each drawer, sifting through the contents with disappointment. You don’t have anything that nice. You pick out your nicest jeans and a halter top Roxie gave you. You’ll be sweating your bum off in the denim but you don’t have many skirts or even shorts.

You can hear your mother getting ready for her own day of work. Of actual work. You wait until she’s done to claim the bathroom. She’s off only a couple minutes after, calling out a goodbye and I love you that you return in a higher pitch than you mean to.

You dress and tidy yourself up as best you can. Your bedtime shower did little to help you sleep but at least it saves you a step. You spritz yourself with strawberry body spray and try to smile at your reflection as you put your toothbrush back.

Sigh. Did Bucky really call you sexy?

It’s not even eight. Lots of time to wallow in anxiety and self-doubt. You pace around the front room, ready to go, but not really. You have your purse with the fringe and your least-worn flats. They pinch around your toes but they’re cute; pink loafers with a little leather rose on each.

You cradle your phone then squeeze it hard enough to make it light up. Only a few minutes. Or not. You hear a car outside and peer through the curtain. You recognise the vehicle. Shoot, time to go. Oh, god, what are you doing?

You lock the door behind you and turn to face the gallows. Each step is filled with sand, your legs are heavy and your feet clunky. As you near, Merv appears to open the door for you. You’re surprised but not to find Bucky waiting within.

As you slide onto the seat, he watches you and rumbles out a silty, ‘morning, doll.’ You aren’t ready. You don’t know why but you thought the drive would give you time to toss away the last of your caution but you’re clinging to it like a raft. You feel entirely powerless. More than you ever have.

What he promises, money; you always assumed it would give you more control, that it would solve all your problems, but it’s really just a new set of problems. You settle onto the seat as the door closes and buckle your seat belt, focusing on the simple task. He stretches his arm over the back of the seat as you lean against it and his heat seethes into you.

“Good morning,” you force out at last.

“That’s a cute shirt,” he purrs as his hand wanders down to tickle your bare shoulder, your nude bra strap showing garishly. “Would look better without this.” He touches the strap and you make a noise. “But I can wait for that, doll.”

You stare forward. The divider between you and the front seat is up. You are completely alone. You feel your heart about to swell and split.

“I’ll admit, I was up late last night,” his arms shifts slightly as he leans forward. You only notice then the scent of coffee and two cups in the holders behind the console. “Got a pick-me-up to start the day. Gotta be awake for you, doll.”

He takes one of the cups and you realise, he means to offer it to you. You feel too bad to tell him you’re not much for coffee. “It’s called a blue dream tea latte? I think it’s blueberry or something. I saw it in some ad online. Sounded like something you’d like.”

“Oh, thanks, er, it does?” You murmur. You’d seen the same promotion on Pinterest. It’s a rather strange coincidence that he’d think of you. “I... I’ve never tried a tea latte.”

“Doll, I’m gonna give you lots of things you never had, take you places you never been,” he flutters his fingers across your neck as he retracts his arm. He grabs the other cup and groans as he sits back, blowing over the plastic lid. “So tell me,” his arms presses against yours. He seems so big sitting so close, “where’ somewhere you always wanted to go?”

“Er, I don’t...” your eyes drift over as Merv drives lazily through your neighbourhood, “know. I never... thought about it.”

“Anything you always wanted to do? Skydiving? Wait, yeah, you don’t like being high up. Makes sense, being so close to the ground, huh?” He chuckles and leans into you playfully, “you an outdoorsy type? You like hiking?”

“Um, I don’t know, I think... I like walking in the park sometimes,” you hold the cup with both hands, letting the warmth flow into your cold veins. You can smell the blueberry and you instinctively take wife through the slot of the lid.

“Mm, don’t worry, we’ll figure it out, doll,” he assures you and sips again, swallowing thickly before he lets out a thigh. “I think you’ll like what I got planned, even if you don’t know what you want. I’ve always been good at figuring that out, you know?”

“Oh?”

He laughs again, “you’re so cute, doll.” He looks over at you, “how’s the latte? Did I do good?”

Your eyes nearly cross as you stare at the cup. You bring it up carefully and take a dainty sip. You almost moan at the creamy but sweet taste. You pull the lid away and dab your lips with the back of your hand, turning to give him a wide-eyed look.

“It’s delicious,” you smile.

He grins and tilts his head, “see, doll, you don’t even gotta say it. I know exactly what you need.”

You’re breathless. Something about his tone, his words, mingles and coils around your throat. It’s like one of those old Wattpad fantasies you devoured in your teen years, those escapist dreams of having everything taken care of and not having to think, and yet, it’s too real. You take another drink to keep busy.

“After our first stop, we’ll eat,” he says, “that okay? You’re not ravenous?”

His words make you flinch. You blink and shake your head, “I’m okay.”

“Sounds good, doll,” he relaxes and once more extends his arms over your shoulders, this time hugging you closer.

He turns his head and nuzzles you, making you squirm. You’re rigid, paralysed by the proximity. You’ve never been this close with anyone. He still feels like a stranger.

“Mmm, strawberries,” he growls, “I like that.”

You giggle and barely keep a hold of your cup. You really can’t understand it. You never had interest from anyone. You didn’t even really have friends in school. Sometimes, you even think Roxie hates you, and your mom, well, she loves you because you have to. You just can’t comprehend what he sees.

“Thanks...” you wisp.

“No, thank you, doll,” he drawls, “for making my morning brighter.”

🃏

You doubt Bucky does anything in half-measures. Merv pulls up to another upscale building and you can’t help but gape out at the white brick facade. Everything is so big and fancy and better than you. You’re so out of place in his world that you can’t but wait for the moment he decides to kick you out of it.

The white-haired driver gets out to open the door. As you step out, your loafer slips off your heel and your foot slides down the curb. You trip outward, bracing yourself for impact, but don’t hit the ground. A hand wraps around your arm and pulls you back onto the seat. You cringe, happy at least that Bucky can’t see your face as he clings to you.

“You okay, doll?” He asks, “you hurt yourself?”

“No, no,” you wriggle in his grasp, “I’m fine. It was just... stupid.”

“Not stupid, good thing I was here to catch you, huh?” He reluctantly releases you, a caress along the back of your arm, “now you be careful. You need me to get out and carry you--”

“No, no!” You grab the car and push yourself out, fixing your shoe as you get your bearings. “Really, I’m okay.”

He chuckles and follows. It he laughing at you? You turn to face him as he steps up on the curb. It’s easy when he’s sitting to forget how small you really are.

“All good, doll, I just can’t have you getting banged up,” he says as he gestures you across the wide sidewalk.

You peer back as Merv shuts the door and Bucky brings his hand to your lower back, just like that woman at the casino. His gentle touch sends a chill up your back despite the beaming heat from above.

“Promise, you’re gonna love this.”

He urges you on to the front doors. They are made of iron, twisted in the middle, and two long handles curlicue in the middle. He stops and presses the little silver button along the side, a buzz muffled within. You wait, fidgeting, and presses his palm firmly to your back. You still yourself and clutch your bag tighter.

The interior doors, dark walnut, open inward and a woman appears within with a particularly snobbish look. She’s tall with straight shoulders and a Chanel style suit. She unlocks the iron doors and opens the right one. She eyes Bucky past her hooked nose as she lifts it higher.

“Mr. Barnes,” she greets.

“Meredith,” he returns, “thanks for having me.”

“Only for you,” she assures as her eyes fall upon you, “you’ve brought...”

“Someone very special. A connoisseur like yourself,” he insists, curtailing whatever she thought to remark.

“Yes, certainly she would be,” the woman accepts with a sniff and steps back, “please, come in. Should I have Charlene make tea?”

“I don’t think we will require it. Doll?” He pauses as he confirms with you.

You shake your head, “no thank you.”

“Very well, follow me, then,” she spins and struts away.

Bucky nudges you inside first, following through the narrow door. As he comes up parallel to you, a shadow appears to close the doors behind him. The whole experience is eerie. What is going on?

You follow the woman, Meredith, up the wooden stairs with a rose-printed runner along the center of the steps. At the top, you smell the definitive scent of books. She directs you into a room, opening the door but standing back to let you through. Bucky nods and thanks her one last time.

“You know the rules, Barnes,” she warns.

“Been a while...” he mutters.

“You remember,” she rebukes.

He laughs and pulls the door shut as she retreats, her heels clicking through the wall until they taper off to nothing. A record player drones from the corner and the window lets in the yellow sunshine, adding to the illumination of glass-shaded lamps. You peer around, as curious as you are confused.

Bucky brushes by you, knuckles rubbing against your waist, and he approaches the antique table at the center. Several stacks of books sit neatly piled atop it. You approach sheepishly and read the spines. You recognise the titles though you’ve never read any of them. As you think, you realise that these are the same books you have on your reading app. How could he know?

Your mouth falls open as you keep your hands folded together. You don’t dare to touch anything. It all seems so nice and likely expensive. And with how Meredith spoke, you’re certain she wouldn’t appreciate you putting anything out of place.

“She’s a book collector. I came here a few years back to buy some first editions for my sister,” he picks up a book.

“How...” you bend to read further down a stack.

“A lot you can learn about a person online,” he flutters through the pages, “isn’t there?”

You look at him and blanch.

“I know you Googled me. Everyone does,” he snickers, “it’s fine. Comes with the territory. But you...” he snaps the book shut and comes around the table, holding it out to you, “all I found were some books and a few pictures of a cat.”

You take the book and stare at the cover. Those pictures were old. Kai died at the end of high school. You run your hand over the embossed title; Middlemarch. You remember adding it after binging and old British series.

“My cat. She’s gone now,” you shrug.

“Sorry to hear that, doll,” he says. “I might know someone who can cheer you up, though.”

“It’s... fine. She was a good cat,” you shrug.

“Hm, yeah, but a friend, all the same,” he says, “so, you want it?”

“What?” You peek at the book again.

“All of them? I can have them packed and sent to your house.”

“Huh?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “my mom...”

“Ah, it’s fine, we can sneak em in,” he assures.

“No, no, I couldn’t... it’s too much. Very nice but... must be... a lot.”

“It is, doll. Meredith gave me a damn headache tryna get in here on short notice but I did it,” he leans a hand on the table and hooks one foot over the other. “You gotta at least pick one thing to walk out of here with.”

“Oh, I... I wasn’t meaning... I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,” you rub your thumbs along the edges of the book, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re not, doll. You’re... adjusting. I’m doing my best not to scare ya away but you gotta bite the carrot a little here,” he says, “so grab a few and we’ll go have some breakfast.”

“I...” you look between him and the table. You have no doubt that he went to a lot of effort for this. For you. You can’t just throw it back in his face. “Thank you, it’s...” you turn to face the table and lean in to see more of the books. You let yourself smile, “it’s wonderful. No one’s ever... except mom...”

“Get used to it, doll,” he steps closer, his hand once more on your back, “with a smile like that, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #all in #au #casino au #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

250 notes · View notes

ginkgo-phyta · 4 months

Note

heyy do you write for hotch? If yes can I request a fic with hotch falling asleep on reader's shoulder on the jet. like there are so many fics with reader sleeping on his shoulder and he's all soft about it and lets her. how would the bau react to see their tough boss just cuddle up with his girlfriend after a long case (it can be established relationship or before that too). thanku!

A/N: im screaming HAHA i LOVE THIS! i made this an established relationship hehe i hope you enjoy, my love!

tagged spencer reid x reader because i want more people to see this teehee pls dont hate me i have spencer fics yall should read if you havent already but also you should still read this too

fluff, BAU!reader, gender-neutral reader, mention of cannon type violence/hostage situation/nothing explicit or detailed, 1.8k words

“Hey, you okay?” Your tired eyes peered up at Aaron as he neared your seat on the jet, tie loosened and top button of his shirt undone. He had just gotten off the phone with the section chief, who, undoubtedly, scolded him as if he were a wayward adolescent. Although the smile he offered you in response was tight lipped and less-than-giving, his eyes told a different tale. They softened as they met yours, shedding their cold and hard façade to reveal a weary truth, littered with hints of desperation.

This case had been long and grueling, tensions insurmountably higher than usual with Erin Strauss breathing down Hotch’s neck, scrutinizing every decision he and the rest of the team made. You barely got a chance to talk to Aaron about how he was doing, always being waved off by the older man with “We can talk later,” or “It doesn’t matter right now, let’s focus on the case,”. Begrudgingly, you obliged, understanding there was no point in pushing him. It would only add to his stress. Although the case was solved, the end was arduous. The unsub had taken a hostage and, with the rest of the BAU’s input, the negotiation tactics went a different way than what Erin deemed appropriate.

A heavy sigh parted Aaron’s lips as he slumped into his seat, you could practically see steam of stress billowing off of him. “It’s fine, everything’s fine.” He spoke quietly, eyes closed, but you could tell he didn’t believe it to be true.

“Strauss tear you a new one?” Rossi piqued from across the table.

The unit chief huffed out a short laugh. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Rossi just nodded at this, turning his attention back to his notepad. Hotch looked to the rest of his team as they settled into their desired spots, “Let’s all get some rest, alright?”

Everyone wordlessly nodded, not having to be told twice.

Aaron lazily turned his head to you with a book in your lap, “You, too, Agent.” He gave you a playfully pointed look.

You breathed out a quiet chuckle, “I will, don’t worry.” You shut the book and turned to give your beloved undivided attention, gazing into his suddenly undecipherable, deep hickory eyes. “You wanna talk about it?”

He gently shook his head, eyelids feeling heavy as his blinks became slower and slower, “At home,” he whispered, your stomach doing a somersault at the notion. Aaron tried to fight sleep for just a few seconds longer, wanting to just stare at you for a bit.

You faced him, head leaned against the headrest, smile so warm and endearing. The way you chuckled at him was like getting a glimpse of heaven. He couldn’t wait to go home and have you all to yourself. The feeling of your arms wrapped around him was his life raft in the tumultuous storm of his emotions. It was hard for him to express what he was feeling all the time, but with you around his walls of reinforced concrete tumbled. Aaron gave you a small, sleepy smile.

Before he could say anything else, you spoke up. “Sleep,” it was a simple command, and the usually stubborn man melted into his seat at your word.

You took a couple minutes longer to watch him immediately fall into a deep slumber, his breaths becoming deeper and longer, lips parted ever-so-slightly, eyebrows twitching here and there. With a breathy laugh, you fought the urge to reach up and caress his face and move the little stray strands of hair off of his forehead, still aware that your coworkers could witness such an intimate moment. The two of you had begun dating five months ago, but it wasn’t until three months later that you broke the news to the team.

It had been a long time coming; for quite a while everyone knew about the feelings you harbored for your boss- even Hotch himself knew. You didn’t do a very good job of hiding it, taking every opportunity you could to blithely flirt with him. Some might just assume you did so in a similar way to how Penelope and Derek toy with each other, but the profilers knew in the back of their minds it wasn’t the case. Aaron fought you at first, pleading with you to stop calling him “handsome”, “big man”, or even “honey” in one case. You never gave in, though, buckling down on your efforts upon seeing the way he would chuckle caught off guard and almost blush in many instances. Slowly yet surely, he gave in to your teases. You burrowed your way into the stoic man’s heart, creating a place you would die before giving up. Aaron didn’t even realize it was happening until his world came crashing down on him one fateful evening.

A routine questioning of a suspect had led to you getting held hostage, the man whose house you went to turning out to be the unsub. This had happened many times before in the history of the BAU, but for some reason Aaron was more on edge. There was no covert entrance into the home and the unsub refused to open up a line of communication with the agents, leaving everyone in the dark wondering what the state of your wellbeing was. Aaron had begun pacing back and forth in the tent they had set up outside the house you were being held in, hands held to his head.

“Hotch, it’s going to be okay.” Derek stepped forward, trying to calm his superior’s nerves.

“He’s right, Aaron.” Rossi piped in. “We’ve dealt with this before, we can fix this.”

“No,” Hotch murmured back, “This isn’t the same. It’s not the same.” His pacing didn’t let up. “This is my fault, I should have told someone to go, too. I could have prevented this.”

The others held unspoken conversations within the glances they shared.

“Hotch-” Emily tried to speak up, to convince him that wasn’t the case.

“NO!” He yelled suddenly, stopping in his tracks. “You don’t understand, I can’t lose them!” His voice was heavy with despair, eyes wide in anguish.

All eyes were trained on him, his coworkers at loss for words at the confession.

“I can’t lose them…” Aaron mumbled this himself before roughly pushing out of the tent.

You smiled to yourself as you took a last glance towards the sleeping man next to you before turning back to your book. Safe to say, you were incredibly shocked when Aaron showed up on your doorstep in the dark of the night all those months ago, soaked in the rain, kissing you with a sense of urgency before you could even ask him what he was doing there. You bit your lip at the memory, but shook it out of your head to try and focus in on the jumbled words swimming in your lap. From the get-go, the two of you decided you would remain extremely professional around your coworkers, and you did just that. You stopped your teasing, for the most part at least, and made sure to never initiate physical contact on the job. Anyone that didn’t already know you were in a relationship would never have guessed. The most you allowed yourselves was sitting next to one another on the jet, just like you were doing now.

An unintelligible murmur and huff sounding from your side drew your short-lived attention away from the delicate pages in front of you. Just as you were about to look over to Aaron and make sure he was okay, a heavy weight thumped onto your shoulder. His head. You were taken aback, a giggle slipping through your lips before you could help it. Your fingers flew up to your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet as you noticed him shift a bit, making himself more comfortable. Sure, you’d accidentally fallen against Hotch’s shoulder in your sleep a couple times before the two of you entered a relationship, but never in a million years did you expect him to do the same to you. On the jet. In front of everyone. Of course, he couldn’t control his actions in his sleep, you reasoned. And maybe you should gently shrug him off to help retain his authority around the teasing profilers. But, this time, you fought off that thinking and gave in to your instinct. He had been so tense and strung out this entire case, you knew he needed this.

To hell with professionalism. You thought with a devilish grin, happy in your resolution. And so, you gently closed your book and slid it onto the table in front of you, trying your best to move as little as possible before leaning your head against his own and closing your eyes. With the gentle hum of the jet engines and the comforting sounds of Aaron’s breathing, you were lulled into a wonderful slumber in no time.

“Oh my God,” Emily breathed out, garnering the attention of Spencer who rested in the same group of seats as her. He looked up at her with one eye from where he was slumped over in his window seat, trying to get some shut-eye.

“Huh?” the sleepy doctor grumbled, pushing himself a bit more upright when he noticed Emily looking at something on the other side of the jet, her face a mixture of shock and glee.

The raven-haired agent began slapping Derek’s shoulder, who sat peacefully next to her with his eyes closed and headphones over his ears. His eyes flew open, looking over to Emily with annoyance as he took off his headphones, “What! What!”

Immediately Emily shushed him, “Look!” she whispered, hand flying wildly in the air, eyes still unmoving.

Derek followed her line of sight the scene before him pulling a laugh of disbelief from his lungs. “Well, well, well…”

Emily’s hands covered her mouth in astonishment. “JJ!” she whispered over to the blonde who lay curled up on the sofa next to them. “Ugh,” she groaned quietly, unable to wake her coworker.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered mostly to herself, settling back in her seat, garnering a shake of Morgan’s head.

The view of their hard-headed unit chief sleeping peacefully on the shoulder of his subordinate, the latter’s head resting sweetly back on his was suddenly blacked by the side of Rossi’s body as he stuck his arm out, trying to get the best angle to immortalize this moment on camera.

“Good for them,” Morgan grinned, his voice proudly announcing his amusement as he put his headphones back over his head.

“Rossi, you better send me that!” Emily spoke up just a little bit louder, the old man looking back and motioning his phone towards her in acknowledgement.

“What? What!?” Spencer whisper-yelled, unsuccessfully craning his head above and between the seats to get a glimpse of what all the hubbub was about, “What are you guys looking at!?”

“Penelope’s gonna flip,” Emily mumbled to herself, a teasing smile playing on her face as she looked down at the picture Rossi sent her. Without a second thought, she saved the photo onto her phone. They’re never gonna live this down.

A/N: i hope you liked this!! i had a fun time writing it ehehe hotch is such a dilf, like an ACTUAL dilf im not even attracted to fathers but hotch?? all day, every day, baby!

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #spencer reid x reader

329 notes · View notes

written-with-blue-ink · 3 months

Note

Hey, what are your thoughts on how Zagreus would gain a crush on the reader? Just pure fluff please

Yeah, no prob hon! Since you didn't specify, I'm gonna do headcanons!

Zagreus X GN!Reader

He probably first saw you right before he went on his killing spree throughout the Greek Underworld, like every other shade who entered the House of Hades: waiting for a decree from his father.

I love Zag but he isn't the perceptive type. Many souls come through the Throne Room daily, an uncountable number that has to go through admissions, paperwork, etc.

The first time he ran into you though, he caught sight of someone at the entrance struggling to get used to the fire and smoke that Asphodel is engulfed in.

Being the gentleman his father didn't raise him to be, he offered to help you find a better place to make your space.

Taking one of the rafts together was weird for you to say the least. There is really only space for one so he pulled you close, making both of you blush in embarrassment.

I mean, a mortal soul holding onto the chest of the God of Blood and Rebirth? How sweet!

You have to admit, him fighting was brilliant and attractive. He was strong, graceful, and tried his damnedest to protect you (even though you are already dead and can't really get hurt)

About two stops later he introduces you to Euridyce, who is more than happy to take you in like a mother bird protecting her nest.

Zagreus' affection for you mostly grew over time with consistent visits to Euridyce's humble abode

The little things that came out of the three of you talking, you break out of your shell really.

Your laughter and wittiness with both him and Euridyce are major things.

Bandaging up a wound or giving some small drachma to help afford items at Charon's shop.

Your pep-talks and advice when it comes to strategy in the upper levels.

These small gestures of kindness mean the world to someone like Zagreus who didn't have a caring parent or many friends.

He brings little gifts for you too, especially when Persephone returns

Pressed flowers or little things he knicked from the palace for you to use.

He's not ready to tell his feelings yet but he just enjoys the moments he spends with you.

#zagreus x reader #hades supergiant #zagreus #zagreus hades #hades zagreus #hades game x reader #hades game #zagreus x gn reader

364 notes · View notes

missmonsters2 · 1 year

Text

Your Touch is My Shelter

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: 6 months later, Natasha returns from the dead. It's a tightly kept secret as it's unknown how she returned, but everyone claws and fights about who will keep watch over her like savages. You're far down the list of people who should protect her, but you find yourself unable to leave her be.

Warnings/Tags: hurt/comfort. undisclosed trauma. physical and mental signs of trauma. angst. somber assisted bath time. sad hair braiding. emphasis on hurt AND comfort.

Note: This takes place after endgame :-) the dates might be inaccurate idk i did my best 🥲 ha-ha enjoy 👁️👁️

Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Count: 5.2k

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You heard the news through Bruce.

Well, it was through Bruce telling Pepper, and you just happened to be at the coffee machine getting shitty coffee. The quality drastically dropped since Tony was gone, and you've been putting off telling Pepper she needed to literally buy anything else.

You didn't really know how long was the appropriate time for someone to grieve before you could ask if they could buy another brand of coffee.

Tony was gone.

A part of you thinks you keep putting off telling Pepper because then you'd have to face—really face—he was gone.

Steve was gone.

What did it matter, really, in the grand scheme of things? Coffee was just coffee, and it'd probably taste fine if you just put a shitload of sugar and creamer in it.

Vision was gone.

Honestly, you only really noticed because it was the same brand as whatever was stocked up at the Avengers Compound.

Natasha was gone.

But perhaps the coffee always tasted bad at the Compound and it had nothing to do with Tony being gone. Natasha used to bring coffee into the office most days for people, and Clint filled in the other days.

Maybe Tony Stark just liked shitty coffee, and you were only now just noticing it.

Natasha was back.

Your hand faltered at the coffee machine, spilling a little of it on your hand, and the burn stung immediately.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked as he noticed you inhale a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at him before looking at Pepper. "Morgan's fine. She just has the flu and her fever's gone down. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. I'm going to set up a humidifier for her and help her settle into bed with a movie and wait for her to fall asleep before I head out."

Pepper let out a heavy breath, putting her hand over her chest in relief. "Oh, perfect. Thank you so much for coming suddenly. I just—Morgan doesn't really like going to the hospital, and suddenly she started throwing up and having a fever—"

"It's fine, Pepper," you waved off her ramblings after you wiped what you spilled on the counter. "You can always call me if you need me."

"Seriously, I think I might just employ you full-time as a live-in doctor if you say that," Pepper joked, and you laughed.

"I am already your live-in doctor, just for one of your research labs. instead."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You don't think about Natasha—at least, you try not to.

You heard things here and there about it through Pepper. Apparently, she's being held in a government facility similar to The Raft, detained like some criminal they needed to study instead of the war hero who sacrificed everything to save the world.

It made you sick to your stomach.

But you hear that Clint, Bruce, and Nick Fury have been fighting to get custody of her, so you don't think about it. There were people who knew Natasha far better than you did and were way closer to her than you were.

She was in good hands.

So, you continue on with your daily routine to pass your monotonous days, unaware you're waiting for some kind of update.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next time you heard about Natasha Romanoff, it was Clint and Bruce cornering you at your lab.

"What?" You panicked, tensing up. "Why me?"

"You're the only person Natasha ever sought out to treat her," Clint answered, and you felt even more lost at the fact he knew. "Natasha allows medical professionals onsite to help her, but there were times she left to go see you. That has to mean something."

But, of course, he knew. He was Natasha's...best friend. And Clint was an incredibly nosy person, even if Natasha didn't tell him.

"I've only treated her a handful of times—literally only five times. I don't know her that well," you shook your head, trying to walk around them. "I didn't even know she had a sister until you told me."

"Please," Clint begged. "I'm fighting to get her out, and the doctors they have looking after her are shady and callous with her. I can only visit her with Nick's influence, but it's not enough to get her out of there."

"And what do you suppose I can do?"

"You're a renowned cellular biologist," Bruce cut in. "If they're holding her for research, we want someone on our side who will at least treat her like a human being. The faster we get answers, the faster we can get her out."

"Please," Clint begged again. "Natasha needs help. She's...different. And it's only going to get worse if she remains in there. She's not talking, and they won't let her go until they can find some answers."

It felt wrong.

You don't want to study Natasha Romanoff like an animal. Despite being a scientist with an inquisitive mind, you don't care about how she returned.

But it sounded like Natasha would be researched whether you liked it or not. And if that was the case, you do wonder how the other doctors may be treating her.

"Fine, we're going first thing in the morning," you gritted out, unable to block out the handful of memories of times you've treated her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2012

"Oo, that looks painful," you hissed in sympathy as a redhead with a busted lip and nasty gash on her temple entered the med bay.

There was a snort that sounded like a half-grunt. "It looks worse than it feels. I hope I'm not intruding, but Tony said I should see you to be treated."

"Natasha, right?" You asked slowly, gesturing to a seat for her to take as you grabbed some medical supplies.

"Yes," Natasha replied, equally slow with caution.

"Tony talks about you a lot," you tried to reassure her of whatever paranoia she might have. It probably didn't help that Natasha was still in her catsuit and probably would've preferred to be called by her alias.

"Well, don't believe everything he says," Natasha gives a light but somewhat tight smile.

"Oh, so you aren't a unique woman with high intellect, sneaky, and rightfully smug?" You teased, and it was flattering that you could make a superhero laugh.

You began treating Natasha's wound carefully.

"You're pretty good at this, doc," Natasha commented as you blew on her brow, even if it didn't sting. "You're pretty gentle. Must be why Tony says you're his personal doctor."

You chuckled. "I'm actually a cellular biologist. Tony is funding my research and pretty much my lifestyle. With the money he's paying me, he can come crying about his boo-boos anytime. Although, he doesn't really come to me for serious stuff. It's usually if he has something ridiculous like a papercut."

"But you can treat wounds and other medical things?"

"I was on my way to becoming a medical doctor before I decided to go into research instead."

"Huh," Natasha hummed, raising her brow at you. "Smart cookie."

"I'd like to think so," you finished cleaning Natasha's wound and putting a bandaid over it. "Feel free to come see me if you need any other basic medical aid. For a pretty redhead, it's free of charge."

"And if I come back blonde?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you smiled, and Natasha smirked back at you.

"Smart and funny. Tony has it too good."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

April 2014

"This is the worst bandage job I've ever seen. Who did you go to see for this? A grocery clerk?"

Natasha grunted. "Hi, to you too, doc."

You looked at Natasha, noticing how different her hair is now. But it's been about two years since you have seen her. Despite your offer for her to come to you anytime she needed help, she never did. Or she rarely did, you supposed.

You could only deduce that Natasha was used to caring for her wounds on her own. That, or she didn't trust you.

"Alright, let's go to my office," you sighed.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not really, kind of hit a brick wall."

"Oh, me too."

You looked over at Natasha, who had a straight face, but you noticed the bruise on her temple outside the obvious gun wound on her shoulder.

You pursed your lips. "Will you hate me if I laugh?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, I may like you less if you don't."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2015

"You know, when I told you that you could come for me for basic medical aid, I feel like you didn't understand the meaning of basic."

"Is this too complicated for you?"

"No."

"Then am I unwelcomed?"

You pursed your lips at the redhead, who stared at you with a tiny upward quirk on her lip. "No," you sighed. "Just not sure why you'd want to see me for such serious wounds. There are other more experienced doctors."

You lift Natasha's shirt up, looking at the long gash on the side of her stomach. "We're gonna need to stitch this up. I've been doing research with Dr. Cho, and we have a new machine that can help with cell tissue generation. It would be faster than me manually stitching—"

"It's fine," Natasha declined. "I'd prefer if you manually did it."

You frown lightly at the fact but relent to the redhead's wishes. Another year passes, and Natasha's hair has changed again.

You worked silently on cleaning Natasha's wound, and she also declined the anesthetic. You focus on stitching up the wound with precision and care.

"I like to go to you for some things because your touch is gentle," Natasha said quietly, but it felt so loud in the silent room. "It makes me feel human when I can feel your touch."

You looked over at her face briefly, but Natasha wasn't looking at you. You don't take any deeper meaning into it. She's someone who's probably felt dehumanized most of her life. The machines that can heal her twice as fast would be fine for life-threatening injuries, but it probably all feels clinical.

You looked back down at the stitch. "Well, as long as you're a redhead, it's free of charge."

"Don't kid yourself, I would look perfect blonde."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

September 2016

"What are you doing here?" You hissed as you pulled Natasha in quickly, peering outside before shutting the door.

"Why? Am I unwelcomed now?" Natasha's tone sounded a little hurt, and you scan her body. She didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere that required immediate attention, but you did notice crusted blood at the edge of her nostrils.

"No, but you could get caught here," you shook your head at her. "They're looking for you and the rest of team cap everywhere."

Natasha shrugged. "I highly doubt Tony has your place under surveillance. We don't meet enough for anyone to consider looking for me through you."

You sighed, not sure what to feel about the statement. "I suppose. I don't work for Tony anymore, anyway."

Natasha's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"I don't agree with what he's doing."

"So you're on Steve's side?"

"No, I think Steve was obstinate too. They're both stupid. Men are stupid."

Natasha laughed before wincing as she held her nose.

"What happened?" You brought her over to your couch before finding your first aid kit.

"I broke my nose," Natasha shrugged. "Can you believe breaking my nose saved millions of girls?"

"With you? Yes." You smirked as you tilted her head to look at the injury closer. "Lucky you. Looks like you don't need surgery. Do you always come here immediately after you save the world?"

"Yep."

"Couldn't even clean your nose before you did?"

"And deprive you of giving me care? I wouldn't dare."

You snorted, carefully cleaning the blood in and around her nose. It was silent again before Natasha spoke up.

"So, what happened with your research stuff now that Tony's not sponsoring your work?"

"Pepper is funding it, even though she knows I won't share anything with Stark Industries at the moment. She doesn't want me to sell my research or provide any data to other companies."

"Smart cookie."

"And a really hot blonde."

"This feels targeted. It's like you know I might dye my hair blonde soon."

"You're still a redhead; I have no idea what you mean. I like your hair, though. Braids look good on you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2018

Natasha showed up at your front step, holding her rib. There's a look of genuine relief at seeing you.

"You're still here," her voice sounds empty and hollow. "You're still here."

You pulled her inside gently. You're still in shock yourself. You were on a walk when people started disappearing left and right. The sheer panic on the streets was chaos as you were dialing Pepper frantically, almost crying when she picked up the phone. Then there were actual tears when you called other people in your life, and half of them didn't pick up...and they weren't going to.

"I'm here," you swallowed. "What happened to your rib?"

"I don't know." Natasha looked so lost. There was the look of failure and self-blame all over her face.

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't know."

You grasp her wrist, carefully moving her hand away from her rib before gently putting your fingertips against them. Your fingers trail up, down, and around.

Suddenly, Natasha broke into tears.

"Does it hurt?" You asked, panicked.

"You're still here," was all Natasha choked through her tears.

You didn't know what to do other than treat her wounds more gently than ever before while reassuring her you hadn't disappeared. You were one of the many people on this planet still here. And when she was better, she'd get the rest of them back.

It was a long and exhausting night, and Natasha fell asleep in your bed, and you made sure she was comfortable before leaving to sleep on the couch.

Natasha's hair has changed again.

"You look good blonde."

That was the last time you saw her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha's hair has changed again. She's gone back to being a redhead with blonde tips. Her hair was a mess, barely brushed, and looked knotted.

The room was big and had padded walls, a singular bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in another. There were lights in parts of the cell but also areas of darkness. It looked like a fucking prison cell.

You were looking through an unbreakable glass window, the middle holding up a microphone you assumed was linked to the speaker in the room.

Natasha stood in the middle of the room under the light in a hospital gown falling off her shoulder. Her hands were covered in scars, and her lips were so chapped, you were sure they'd split even if Natasha breathed the wrong way.

Natasha was only a few feet away from you, but it felt like she was a million miles away.

They let you see her alone under the guise of privacy as you saw her.

You felt you weren't supposed to see this—see her like this.

A sense of dread filled you at the blank expression on Natasha's face at what she'd gone through—what she was still going through.

She was a hero, and this was how they were treating her? This was someone who had fought wars repeatedly for this stupid country and the rest of the world, and they had her locked up like a mental ward patient from the 1600s.

You thought the government had gotten better. There were reforms and peace after people came back from the snap. This wasn't how they were supposed to treat someone who'd given up their life to ensure everyone got theirs.

It shouldn't matter that she came back; she had still given it up in the first place for them.

Natasha didn't even seem to recognize you through the glass as you stepped closer to the microphone. She looked past you as if she could tell the exit was somewhere behind you.

"Natasha?" You said into the mic, and it bellowed into the room.

Nothing.

"Nat?"

Natasha's eyes were listless. She was a broken, empty shell that seemed more like an animated corpse than actually being alive.

You swallowed, trying one more time. "You're still a redhead. Looks like it's still free of charge."

Natasha's eyes flickered this time, her head tilts towards you as she blinked with focus. It was just a spark, but it was something, and relief spreads through you.

"Not completely." You could barely hear her voice, but it was coarse. Cold.

There should've been a joke about some kind of discount, but Natasha didn't make it. You were speechless.

You didn't know what to say. Don't worry, you're trapped in here, but I'm going to help with the research, and hopefully, we'll get you out soon?

It was like prolonging a death sentence. You were horrified.

"Just—wait for me," the words flew out of your mouth so fast but you meant them with every ounce of your being. "You're gonna go home with me today."

Natasha's eyes sparked at the words but just as quick as you saw it, they died out, falling back into listlessness. She turned, stepping into a darkened corner away from your view and prying eyes of the cameras as she said, "No, I'm not."

You realized she's probably spent weeks watching Clint, Bruce, and Fury try to get her out unsuccessfully.

The resignation made something lurch in your throat and eyes sting with desperation and rage.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, we can send you a contract—"

"You're going to release her to my custody," you cut off some government official. He was old, wearing some kind of toupee that was slicked back to hide his balding head.

He looked at you in disbelief, almost laughing like you were some stupid, naive young girl.

He looks at Clint and Bruce, who are also just looking at you in shock.

"As I've told your friends and Nick Fury, this is out of their hands. The Accords are still intact as of right now, therefore—"

"I don't care about the Accords. You will release her into my care. I'm more than qualified and I have the resources to find the inane answers you're looking for while rehabilitating Agent Romanoff," you cut him off again, able to tell that it was irking him.

"That won't be necessary as you can see we have the resources here," the government official raised his brow at you.

"Your resources can't compete with Stark's resources."

It was no secret that Tony had left a very sizable fortune to you in his will, outside of everything he gave to Pepper and Morgan. And it was also no secret how close you were with the surviving Starks.

"Doctor," the government official sighed, obviously making it sound like you were a nuisance. "If you're not here to join our research team, I suggest you go on your way and remember the NDA you signed."

You glared at him even more. "I'm not leaving without Agent Romanoff. You will hand her over to me, or you will regret it."

"And exactly how will I regret it?" The government official looked smug, and you smirked back at him.

"I'm still in talks with the government regarding my research, and I will pull out and sell that information outside of this country as I'm free to do so. I know Dr. Cho is in talks between the US and South Korea about her nano-technology. One word from me, and America can fall behind on those advancements as well." You pulled out your cell phone in a threatening manner. "Pepper and I will pull out all of our money from the very same banks and company investments that you're supporting and make you watch as they collapse one after another."

"You'd ruin our entire economy—our country by doing so!" The official was red in the face. "You'd put your entire country into chaos?" He sneered at you.

"I will if you don't give me Agent Romanoff!" You sneered back at him. "It's not like you won't eventually get your research and answers if she's in my custody. It works in both our favor."

The official is staring at you, glaring and seething.

"I imagine your colleagues and superiors will pin the blame on you if this entire economy and country goes into ruin because if I have to do that, I will say that it's the government's fault. The NDA said I can't specifically talk about Natasha and this place, which I won't. But I'm sure some journalist will discover the truth and plaster all over the news what you're doing to a war hero," your voice was so vindictive; you're not sure if you've ever been so cold before.

"So," your voice was flat, devoid of emotion now. "What will it be?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was agreed that Natasha would stay in a cabin that Pepper owned out in the countryside. You were to provide monthly updates on your research and rehabilitation progress. And while this was in headway, neither you nor Natasha was free to leave the country or this planet.

Clint initially wanted you and Natasha to stay with him and his family, but you declined. You pointed out that it would be hard for him and his family—his children, especially—to see Natasha like this.

Pepper had everything prepared while you gingerly collected Natasha.

"We're going home, Natasha," you said softly, shrugging off your jacket to wrap around her shoulders. But Natasha still didn't react, even if she let you take her hand and drag her out of the facility.

During the car ride, you mentally planned what you needed to do. Natasha needed to eat, take a bath, and rest.

"Have you eaten yet?" You asked the redhead, sitting stoically in the car, straight as a rod.

There was no answer. Natasha was peering out the windshield, her hands perfectly on both thighs. Clint looked worried as he looked at you.

"Natasha?" You gently placed her hand over hers. You could feel the bumps of the white scars over her hand. A part of you is too frightened to ask where she got these from.

Natasha looked down at your hand over hers before looking at you. Her eyes were so empty. Such a dull green like dying grass.

"Did you eat?"

Natasha nodded once before looking back outside the windshield.

You looked at Clint, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but deep down, you were afraid you had no idea what the fuck you were doing.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Pepper says you've been here before, but let me know if you need help finding anything," you brought her into the house where Natasha just stood, looking at nothing in particular.

"Um," you took a shaky breath. "How about a bath? I'm sure it'll be good to get the grime and stale air off of you."

Natasha didn't move on her own, so you began to lead her up the stairs to the bathroom.

It was a detached tub near the high window to get plenty of sunlight without anyone being able to peer in.

"I'll just get this started for you," you offered. Turning on the tap and pouring in a liquid that formed into bubbles. "Just make sure to check the temperature and adjust. Pepper says that sometimes that faucet can be a little finicky."

You turned to Natasha, who stood there, staring at the wall. She was unmoving, making no gesture if she was waiting for you to get out or to start undressing.

"Do you, um, need help?" You asked, but there was no answer.

Maybe it would wake her up a little once she was in the water.

"I'm—" you took a long breath in. "I'm gonna help you undress and get into the tub. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know and I can stop or do something else."

It wasn't like you've never seen a naked body before. You've seen plenty both in your sex life and field of work. You've even seen parts of Natasha's body when you've treated her. You just never thought you'd see Natasha fully naked.

You slid your jacket off her shoulders, letting out a puff of breath. You looked past her as you undid the string of her hospital gown. You looked up when you slid down her underwear before guiding her towards the tub. Your gentle guiding seemed to spark Natasha into mechanically climbing into it herself the rest of the way.

"Okay, cool. Um," you stuttered. "I'm sure you've been through a lot. Once you're done, we can get you into bed and if you're hungry later, I can make you something."

You were getting used to the lack of answers, but it didn't make your stomach drop any less. "Just let me know if you need anything."

You don't wait for a response this time, leaving without shutting the door fully. Down the hall, you leaned against the wall, swallowing harshly.

It feels like you brought a lifeless shell home. A part of you wonders if Natasha really did return or if this was just some lifeless doll.

You didn't want to think about it anymore, so you pushed yourself off the wall and into a bedroom with a suitcase and unzipped it open to grab some clothes.

When you were heading back, you heard the water still running and frowned.

"Natasha?" You called as you opened the door. The tub was overfilling, and you rushed to turn off the faucet, trying to not slip.

Natasha was sitting how you left her, staring ahead at the running water but not really looking at it.

You sighed, relieved that the bathroom floor was designed with wood and curved so that any water would naturally run towards a drain in the floor.

You go to check the temperature of the water and find that while it was initially fine when you turned it on, Natasha hadn't attempted to adjust it, and the finicky faucet ran nearly scalding water.

"Jesus, Natasha, you're going to hurt yourself," you yelped. You braced through it and stuck your hand in to drain the tub halfway.

You inwardly sighed, knowing you would have to help Natasha through the entire process. You began to refill the tub, monitoring the temperature and shut it off when it was filled adequately.

"I'm going to help wash you if that's okay," you muttered. "Just let me know if you prefer to do it yourself at any point."

You grabbed a nearby stool and sat on it before grabbing the loofa. You began with Natasha's shoulders and arms, trying to wash parts of her that were easy to access.

Natasha tensed as you washed her, so you tried to be more slow and careful.

"It's just me," you said softly, trying to reassure the redhead. "I've always taken care of you."

Natasha said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed slightly as you continued. There wasn't much dirt on her, but the stale air that was surrounding her began to fade away.

Her knees were propped up, folded to her chest, and you washed down her thighs and legs, trying to not think of anything too much as you did it. You tried not to think about the scars on her hands and feet.

Readjusting your stool, you went to sit behind her. You used a cup to wet Natasha's hair, trying to detangle some of it gently first. It was then you discovered a shaven spot in the back of her head, where there was a large scar. You realized that was where Natasha's head hit the ground when she—

You swallowed, trying to suppress the anger that they shaved her head to get a look at something so private.

You squeezed a considerable amount of shampoo in your hands and gently rubbed it into her scalp. Natasha tensed at first before your fingers massaging her scalp made her relax, her body leaning back against the tub and her head into your hands.

It was quiet as you did this. You shampooed her hair twice before slathering it up in conditioner and finally getting out the rest of the knots. You drained the tub, grabbing the shower head to rinse her down once more before you grabbed a towel and helped her out.

You helped put a bathrobe around her to help dry her as you didn't think you had the gall to fully dry every part of her by hand. Grabbing her clothes, you led her to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed.

Natasha sat silently as you towel-dried her hair with gentle hands. Her eyes fell closed as you began to blow dry it. Your soft fingers tousling her hair.

So delicate.

When it was dry, you set the blow dryer aside.

"Hm, your hair is pretty sensitive and might be for the next week. It might be better to braid it so it doesn't tangle and break when you're sleeping," you commented, mostly to yourself.

You took sections of her hair, delicately beginning to put her hair into a french braid.

"You've always had beautiful hair, red or blonde," you complimented Natasha as you finished. You moved to sit in front of her to check if you did okay from the front. There wasn't a response, but Natasha opened her eyes. They focused on you, looking at you as they traced over the features of your face. She was studying you apprehensively.

Natasha lifted a hand, slowly reaching up as her fingers brushed the side of your face. It felt bumpy from the scars, but it made the back of your throat burn.

"Am I really here?" Natasha mumbled as she then traced your cheek before your lips. "Am I really here with you?"

Your eyes were burning now. You couldn't even answer right away because you were afraid your lips would start trembling.

You lifted your hand, hesitating at first, before you held her hand against your face. "Yeah, you're really here."

The edges of Natasha's eyes began to brim with tears.

"When I jumped, I didn't die right away," Natasha whispered. "There was a feeling that something bad was going to happen. It didn't get me yet, but it was going to."

You couldn't help the tears that began to fall over the edge of your eyes when they overfilled.

"Something bad happened to me," Natasha's lip trembled. "It's still happening to me."

You gripped her hand tighter unintentionally, but it was like it grounded Natasha.

"I was scared," Natasha admitted. "I was scared that even if you came to me, it wouldn't go away."

Then, Natasha grabbed your hand and placed it against her cheek. It was still warm from the bath and blow dryer.

"But I can feel your touch," Natasha sighed like it was a relief. "It's gentle and I feel human. I'm scared I'm not really here."

"You are."

Your throat felt clogged with raw emotions, and you didn't know what to do with it. You've only seen Natasha a handful of times, and maybe it's because the more you do, the more emotionally charged you both feel.

"You're really here," you told Natasha, using your thumb to caress her cheek. You didn't know what else to say.

All you can do is offer her shelter under your touch.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha x you #mm: my fics

2K notes · View notes

blooming-violets · 1 month

Note

I was looking your post about "Location based smut prompts", I really liked the possibilities of "Nature > 1 - sensual sex in a secluded meadow during a picnic". So I decided to be sassy and ask you to develop it, for our joy ��

Stormy Skies || TASM Smut

[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!Reader]

WC: 1k

General Warning: Don't have sex in a meadow during a storm. You will get struck by lightning and die.

The distant rolling of thunder rumbled through her chest and reverberated around her bones.

There was a warm, summer breeze in the air that carried on its back the earthy smell of rain.

Peter insisted that the skies wouldn’t open up but she was beginning to doubt his confident claims.

Long, green grass swayed and danced around the oasis of their blanket raft like tumbling ocean waves.

The oncoming storm echoed their own building desires. Firm hands rolled up her arms, cresting over the dip of her shoulders, and ticking behind her neck to draw her closer. Mocha colored eyes with caramel swirls gazed deep into her own, letting her know exactly what he was thinking without having to speak a word.

She wasn’t sure.

Her eyes glanced up to the stormy skies above them.

“Shh,” he soothed her worries. “We’re safe.”

“But if lightning- oh.”

His hands slipped up her dress as he leaned over, pressing her into the soft blanket, and quelling her thoughts before they could finish.

With Peter nestling his hips between her thighs, worry blew away in a gust of summer wind.

She could taste fresh watermelon on his lips as her tongue traced along them. She sought out the flavors of their lunch. Slices of juicy watermelon. Homemade lemonade. The slight saltiness of potato chips.

His large hand engulfed her breast over her dress. Cupping it in his palm. Rubbing his thumb over her nipple until he could feel it tighten and push out against the fabric.

He slid her strap down her shoulder so he could pull down the dress enough to capture the waiting bud in his sweet lips.

Her eyes sought upwards to gaze into the graying heavens while he nursed at her breast.

A cool, fat drop of rain fell down.

Landing on her forehead.

Rolling down the slope of her nose.

Soaking into the warm skin of her cheek.

Tension rippled down her spine and bloomed a hunger of desire.

She wanted to be one with nature.

Soaked in its glory.

Engaging in the most natural, timeless act two beings could do.

Nothing else mattered but making love to Peter while the storm grew around them.

Those fingers brushing against the thin cotton fabric, stroking along her wettening slit, teasing over her eager clitoris.

Little strokes. Awakening her body. Deepening her breaths until she was nearly gasping.

His hot mouth, still tending to her breast with nibbling kisses.

Her hands tangled in the mess of his chestnut hair. Tugging at him. Pulling him back up to her face so she could shower him with kisses of her own.

Tongues colliding.

Watermelon and salt.

Hints of sweet lemon.

He only broke the passion of her kiss to tug down her underwear. Unzipping his jeans and pushing them down to his knees.

She wanted to reach out and touch him. Take him into her mouth. Feel him in her hand.

But Peter was too hot.

Too needy.

Her thighs fell to the side, accommodating the weight of his body between them.

Light, cool raindrops tickled her face.

The sky was starting to leak.

Letting go.

Joining them in their building desires.

Peter pressed his forehead against hers. Blocking her from the drizzle. Gazing with a burning love into her eyes. Watching her intently as he led his cock into its favorite home.

She nearly cried out when he impaled her. Slow and true.

Her eyes widened, back arching, mouth opening into a silent gasp.

His arms wrapped around her head in a protective embrace.

Forehead nuzzled to hers.

Lips seeking her skin.

Reassuring kisses.

Soft whispers of love.

Her hips rocked against him. It was impossible to stay still with him inside of her.

Waves of pleasure rolling up her back and warming her stomach, mimicking the feeling of rumbling thunder over head.

The torrent of sensations electrifying her skin.

Creating her own lightning from her body.

Dark skies opened up.

Rain flooded from the heavens.

Drenching through Peter’s hair. Plastering it to his face. Soaking through his clothes. Seeping into the blanket under her.

He acted as her personal umbrella. Keeping her as dry as he could with his body.

Thrusting of hips.

Cries deafened by claps of thunder.

Colliding together in an explosion of undying pleasure.

One with mother earth. One of the grass and clouds and rain.

Making love in the meadow.

Her body swayed in rhythm to every moaning breath, every gasping inhale, every rumbling of thunder in the distance.

Lost in a storm of passion. Her thoughts coming and going like flashes of lightning. All she could feel was Peter and the rain.

Pure desire coursing through her veins.

Her Peter. Her love. Treating her to the most beautiful human experience she could imagine.

Better than a dream.

Her world began to move. Shifting. Trusting him with her soul. Her body. Everything she had to give belonged to him. To take as he pleased.

He would treat her right.

He would love her like a man was meant to.

Her shoulders flexed as the tension built.

An unstoppable march like the rain cascading around them.

Pushing her to an animalistic, wild freedom.

Growing.

Climbing.

Reaching.

A tempest of raging rain and thunder twisting her insides where they connected.

She almost wanted to fight it. Afraid to let the moment fall from her grasp.

Wanting to live in this building moment of bliss for the rest of time.

But there was no stopping a lightning strike.

“Peter!”

His name was magic on her lips. Her saving grace. The one and only name she called out when she was at her lowest or highest.

The only name there ever was, ever needed to be.

The most perfect name in all of human history.

Peter.

Her body shook. Her voice breaking into a staggered cry.

Explosion moved her stomach as it scrunched inward and stretched back out with her aching spine.

Uncontained energy.

Melding with the claps of thunder and breaking free as a white light of cracking electricity lit up the blackened sky.

She was the lightning. She was the thunder. She was the impending storm.

She was the soothing rain cooling her back down, keeping her mind from getting lost, tethering her tightly to her lover.

Peter was kissing her cheek. Gliding down her jaw. Nipping at her ear.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against her heated skin.

He loved her orgasms. Loved making her feel everything. Loved watching her unravel.

Loved her.

His hips were still moving though his pace had slowed to let her recover from her shaking orgasm. He was waiting for her to finish before he even dared to attempt to receive his own pleasure.

Always her first.

Her sweet, wonderful Peter.

She shoved his shoulder, rolling him onto his back so she could take control.

She straddled his hips, rising above him like a goddess.

Her hair tossed around her face as the wind picked up. The rain soaked through her dress, leaving it nearly see through, letting Peter see the swell of her round stomach and outline of her breasts. Dark, shadowed nipples poked out against the wet fabric, leaving him hungry to suck upon them.

But she denied him that gift like he denied her the taste of his cock.

It was his turn to become one with the storm.

She came down to grind him into her.

Rolling her hips along with the thunder.

Sinking as deep as he could go, connecting them once more.

Peter’s head fell back, his eyes rolling to a close, and his lips parting into a pant.

His hands reached up to grab hold of her hips, needing to feel her in his grasp.

The scent of wet dirt filled her nostrils and she breathed it deeply into her very soul.

She knew him better than anyone. She knew he was close.

She worked him with her hips, doing her best to squeeze onto him with her clenching walls.

Riding above him in the pouring rain while a storm raged on made her feel powerful.

Like she could do anything.

Be anyone.

This was her world and she was the master of it.

Peter’s tiny cries and whimpers fueled her own power.

“That’s it, baby,” she cooed down at him. “Cum for me. Fill me.”

He whined and his hips began to buck with frantic, jerking thrusts.

She couldn’t tell if those were tears or rain drops running down his cheek so she leaned down to kiss them away, offering him all her love.

His arms wrapped around her back to hold her closer, stilling her in place with an iron clad grasp, and taking over the brunt of the thrust work to get himself exactly where he needed to be.

His orgasm was nearly as powerful as her own.

Pulsing into her, filling her, flooding her with warmth.

“Oh, yes, Peter,” she cried.

She worked her hips the best she could against him with his arm holding her in place at his chest.

Desperate to keep his orgasm going for as long as she could.

Lightning lit up the sky once more.

Followed by a crack of ear splitting thunder directly overhead.

As if on instinct, Peter tucked her into his grasp, and flipped her under him, shielding her from any potential threats.

Worried eyes blinked down at her, only to soften once he caught sight of her gazing back up at him with a humored love.

They both broke into a chorus of laughter.

His fingers traced along her temple, brushing back wet hair, and leaving soft kisses in its place.

“I think we should get back to the car before we die,” he whispered, stealing one last kiss from her lips.

Remember!

If you've read to the end then you've got to do your part and reblog! Writers write for you and you reblog for us. That's the way tumblr works.

Reblog, reblog, reblog.

180 notes · View notes

ckret2 · 2 months

Text

Chapter 45 of human Bill Cipher would give anything to be trapped in the Mystery Shack again; The Eclipse, part 3.

Whatever's making gravity disappear in Gravity Falls is accelerating; Bill continues to insist he knows exactly what it is but won't say what; Ford's getting pretty fed up with him; and poor Dipper's just got to put up with them.

Oh, and totality arrives.

Bill woke up before full dawn with his cheek in half an inch of water.

He sat up with a gasp. The movement flung his bedsheet off; it floated gently in the air. Bill's exhalations moved it faster than gravity did. The lake was flooding the tent.

He was collapsed halfway out of his tent. He crawled the rest of the way out, dry heaved, splashed some water on his face, forced himself to his feet, and looked at the golden sky.

He didn't like what he saw.

####

Ford and Dipper were woken up by "Reveille" playing on a kazoo. "Rise and shine, puppets, the situation's gotten worse!"

Ford sat up with a groan. "The devil's going..." He lifted his hand to rub his eyes, and instead splashed himself with water. He gasped. "What?"

Bill kicked at the zipped tent flap. "You're flooding, and that's the least of your bad news."

When Ford got out of the tent, Bill was pacing back and forth on top of the water, wringing water out of his bedsheet. "My estimate was wrong. Totality's happening today," he said. "The eclipse must have accelerated."

"Oh, that's ridiculous," Ford said. "How can an eclipse accelerate?"

"You don't know everything! You study the paranormal, you should be used to the inexplicable!"

"My job is to explain the inexplicable."

"Split hairs later!" Bill pointed toward Tate & Backle's Bait & Tackle shop at the far end of the lake. From that distance, it seemed to be sitting on the surface of the water as well. "The closest shelter's the bait shop. We can wait out totality there—"

"No," Ford said.

Bill stared at him. "What do you mean no. You don't still plan on hiking up to Gravity Peak—"

"I do."

"Are you insane!"

"That's an interesting question out of you."

"It's going to be here in hours! And you want to be at the highest point in Gravity Falls?!"

Dipper shuffled out of the tent, blinking groggily. "Why do you have a kazoo?"

"Not! Important! Now!" Bill resumed pacing. "What'll it take to convince you to take this seriously and stay low?"

"You could start with a proper explanation."

"I've explained as much as you need to—" Bill abruptly fell silent and stopped walking, eyes wide with horror.

Dipper and Ford turned to see what he was looking at.

There was nothing. Just a few pine trees in front of a line of gray rocks still tall enough to stick up out of the shallow water in front of the sheer cliff face below Gravity Peak. Dipper turned to Bill. "What?"

Bill didn't answer. He just took off his backpack and started stuffing his damp bedsheet inside. "With gravity so low, the climb through the tunnel to the peak should be a lot faster than humans can usually go," Bill muttered. "If we can get up there in an hour or two, do your stupid scans, and at least get back to the cave before totality..." He looked worriedly at the sky, then slung his backpack back on. "But we need to leave now."

Ford said, "I suppose we could have breakfast on the go. As soon as we pack our tents and change into dry clothes..."

"No time," Bill said. "You can change in the cave, you'll just get your clothes wet again if you do it here. We'll come back for the tents later."

Dryly, Ford said, "Who put you in charge of this expedition?"

"If we waste any more time, the lake will rise higher than the cave opening and we won't be able to get in."

Ford mentally measured how high the lake had risen already. "We'll come back for the tents later."

The survival equipment Ford kept in his backpack included a self-inflating raft with two collapsible paddles, which was well worth the slightly-unstable magic he'd used to get it to fit without being too heavy to carry. He inflated the raft, everyone climbed in, Ford gave Dipper the second paddle, and they set out across the lake in the pinkish early morning light.

Bill looked back over his shoulder one last time at the the line of sharp, gray rocks, and the beforeimage of brilliant red blood drying on their points, such a dramatic and permanent change to their appearance that even hours beforehand he could see it; and then he forced himself to turn away. The only way they were avoiding that was if they were off the cliff before totality.

####

As they crossed the lake, Bill ran his hands beneath the surface next to the inflatable raft and scooped up a handful of water. With the water came eight small, wriggly, ghostly axolotls, clear as glass and shining in the thin rays of dawn.

Dipper gasped. "What are those?"

Bill gave him a sharp look. "You can see them?"

"See what?" Ford asked, leaning over to peer at Bill's hands.

Dipper said, "The—the axolotls?" At Ford's frown, Dipper asked, "Can't you see them?"

"He can't see them," Bill said.

Uncertainly, glancing over the side of the boat, Ford asked, "In the water? Where?"

"No, in Bill's hands."

"He can't see them," Bill repeated. "You shouldn't be able to see them, either." He spilled the axolotls back into the lake. They melted into the water as though they'd never existed. "You really, really need to get inside."

Dipper did not like the sound of that. He swallowed hard.

"What exactly did you see?" Ford asked.

"Bill just... scooped a bunch of tiny axolotls out of the water," Dipper said. "Like the one in the fish tank, but smaller. And they were completely clear, like they were made out of ice."

"Were they alive?"

"Yeah, they were wiggling around. They disappeared when he dropped them back in the water."

"At least they're still transparent," Bill muttered. "And I suppose you won't take this as proof that I've been right about everything."

"Wh—" Ford lowered his paddle and gestured at the lake, "How do invisible axolotls that only some people can see prove anything about 'gravitational eclipses'! If anything, that sounds like the exact kind of weirdness that would come from the Nightmare Realm ripping open!"

"Oh, I wish it was the Nightmare Realm, I would love for it to be the Nightmare Realm," Bill snapped. "You know what, never mind! I changed my mind! Keep saying your thing about the sky ripping open and pouring all my friends into town! Maybe if you say it enough times I'll be wrong and it'll happen, that'd be great!"

"It at least makes more sense than your story! What in the world are a bunch of invisible axolotls doing in the lake, anyway!"

"Migrating."

"Axolotls don't migrate to Oregon, their native range is in Mexico!"

"Fine. Harbinging. They're harbingers."

"Of what?"

"The eclipse."

Ford dropped his oar, made a gesture like he was fighting himself not to strangle Bill, and finally dragged his hands down his face. "Why. Are invisible axolotls the harbingers of an eclipse."

"I don't know, it's just one of those things! Are we going to the cave or not?!"

Ford furiously started rowing again. Dipper had to hurry to keep up.

As he paddled, Ford snapped, "And for as often as you've told us not to look up, now that this 'eclipse' of yours is nearly at 'totality,' I still don't see anything out of the ordinary in the sky!"

"Of course you don't," Bill snapped back, "it's not in the sky."

"Then why can't we look up?!"

"I don't mean up, I mean up-up."

Ford stared at Bill like he'd grown a second head. "WHAT?!"

"I mean... ahhh," Bill made a frustrated noise, snapping his fingers, "English doesn't have a word for— upward-but-not-skyward! You know what I mean!"

Ford almost snapped at Bill again; but then paused. "Hold on," he said slowly. "That's from..."

"Who cares what it's from, you at least know what it means—"

"Flatworld," Ford said. "That was the name of it, right?"

A brief grimace flashed across Bill's face. "Yes, that."

Dipper looked between them, confused. "What?"

Ford said, "It's a novella that explains the concept of higher dimensions by using a metaphor about lower dimensions. A sphere visits the second dimension to teach a square about the third—but where the sphere intersects the second dimension, all the square can see is a circle."

Bill muttered, "Would you drop the wise mentor schtick for five minutes—"

Ford raised his voice. "The sphere tries to explain that the rest of its body is above the second dimension—but having never seen the third dimension, in the square's language 'up' and 'above' mean the same thing as 'north.' The sphere resorts to calling the third dimension up-but-not-north to indicate that it's a different, unseen dimension."

Dipper nodded slowly. "So, if the eclipse is upward-but-not-skyward, then... what, you're telling us not to look in the fourth dimension?"

"Finally!" Bill sighed. "It's not exclusively in the fourth, but—it's close enough, you get the idea!"

Ford said, "But we can't see the fourth dimension."

Bill gave Dipper a dubious look that Dipper didn't like at all; but Bill only said, "Then you've got nothing to worry about, just like I've been saying! Keep your eyes shut just in case."

"Convenient that your proof is only visible in a dimension we can't see," Ford said wryly.

Dipper looked up, squinting at the sky. Bill shoved his head back down.

####

The waterfall was more of a waterfloat. Large orbs of water gently descended from the cliff high above, catching the early morning light. Ford and Dipper stopped paddling to watch in wonder. Bill muttered a spell under his breath, and a foot over their heads the waterfall landed on an invisible umbrella and rolled to the sides rather than land in their raft.

The water level had risen so high they had to lay nearly flat in the raft to get through the cave entrance; rather than paddling, Ford pushed them through with his hands on the tunnel's ceiling. Bill was out of the raft and walking across the water to the shore while Ford and Dipper were still getting their paddles positioned again.

"Gravity's currently—what, about twenty-five percent?" Bill tugged off a shoe, dropped it, and observed how fast it fell. "Twenty to twenty-five percent." He took off his other shoe, rung out his socks over the lake, and stuffed them in his backpack, preparing to climb barefoot. "And it's only going lower. You should be able to just jump up most of the way to the top of Gravity Peak. So if you waste my time trying to climb..."

"Would you relax?" Dipper said irritably. "You should be glad we got up at the crack of dawn for you at all." He climbed out of the raft, copied Bill's attempt to dry out his socks and shoes, and then rung out his wet hat.

"You should be grateful I warned you totality's getting closer! Weren't you the ones convinced the world's going to end if you don't chuck a glue bomb at the sky?"

Ford muttered, "I'm surprised you didn't just have us waste time until the cave was inaccessible."

Bill processed that. He pressed his lips together, squeezed his eyes shut, and his face contorted in an expression of exquisite pain and regret. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, "Happy to help."

Ford reeled out a few feet of cable from his infinity belt, looped it around Dipper's waist, and tied it securely. An infinitely-long cable wouldn't be very helpful on a real climb—if Dipper lost his grip, it would just keep unreeling rather than stop his fall—but this wasn't much of a real climb, and at least it would ensure they couldn't get separated. Dipper took out a flashlight, Ford lit his antique lantern—instead of rising up, the flame inside looked nearly like a ball—and Bill hurried ahead of them, not bothering with any light source, eyes occasionally flashing like a cat's in the dark when he glanced back to check the humans' progress.

This was the fastest Ford had ever climbed the tunnel path up to the top of the mountain, easily leaping nearly twice his height to grab handholds that would previously have taken several minutes to climb to; and before long, he was all but ignoring basic spelunking safety to keep up with Bill. Losing his footing simply meant a slow, gentle fall back to the nearest level ground to try again. The only thing holding Bill back—who, Ford suspected, was now simply flying through the shadows—was Dipper, who was also climbing as fast as he could.

The only time Ford even came close to catching up was when Bill paused to look down the path that, if Ford remembered right, led to the thousand-year-old cave paintings where Ford first learned about his "muse"; but then Bill was gone again, rushing ahead into the dark.

While Bill was at the furthest end of his tether, Ford dropped back to keep pace with Dipper. "Keep your voice low," he said, "but—Dipper, are you absolutely positive that what you saw in the lake were axolotls?"

"Pretty sure. They had the frills and everything, I don't know what else they'd be," Dipper said. "Do you think that's important? In your third journal..."

"That's just what I was thinking."

When Ford had documented his interdimensional travels in Journal 3, he'd included a few strange references to axolotls he'd heard over the years: refugees in the Nightmare Realm who'd cried "praise the Axolotl" when Ford had said he would kill Bill; an oracle who mentioned Bill's history and prophesied his defeat, whose temple was filled with tapestries and paintings of axolotls.

"Maybe they're connected?" Dipper asked. "Maybe the axolotl they're talking about is some kind of... ancient enemy of Bill?"

"I think it's more complicated than that," Ford said. "I was only able to describe a few of my travels in Journal 3—but I heard 'the Axolotl' mentioned in multiple dimensions."

Dipper processed that. "What, so... do you think they're all talking about the same god or something?"

"Yes and no. Some societies referred to this Axolotl as a divinity—although not a creator god. But nobody seems to agree on what its domain is. I heard some say it's the god of goodness. Other, the god of justice. The god of luck. The god of second chances. I've rarely seen the same label twice." Ford shrugged. "But then sometimes it was described like a vast animal or a force of nature—something that travels between stars and watches astronautical travelers, like a curious dolphin watching a boat. I never learned if they were all describing the same being, a group of beings—or if it was a simple translation error for some other term like 'demigod.'"

Dipper scrunched his nose. "'Translation error,' what? Across multiple civilizations?"

"The dimensional translator I received was somewhat buggy," Ford said. "From time to time it would offer wildly incorrect translations for individual words. For instance, it consistently replaced the word 'soccer ball' with soccer ball, of all things. You can only imagine what kind of trouble that got me into."

Dipper blinked in bafflement, opened his mouth, decided maybe this was a can of worms best opened later, and shut his mouth.

"And on top of all that, not all the cultures I encountered respect this 'Axolotl.' In some places, it was called the god of injustice, inequality, or cruelty. The patron deity of criminals and tyrants. Sometimes it's a villain in folklore—a legendary thief, mercenary, liar, or thug. I don't know why the stories vary so wildly," Ford said. "But that Axolotl certainly doesn't sound like someone who would be Bill's enemy."

"I guess not." But how could one being be the god of both justice and injustice? Second chances and cruelty? Either some of the stories had to be wrong, or else they were about different axolotls.

"So in the end, I have no idea what the Axolotl is. But," Ford said, "I wouldn't be surprised if it has something to do with whatever Bill's hiding."

####

When they reached the tunnel's exit, Bill was standing beneath a tree, staring fixedly at something unseen in the sky. "I think it's still speeding up," he muttered. "Not that either of you care. I suppose I'm just talking to myself."

Ford elected to ignore Bill as he untied the infinity belt's cable from around Dipper's waist and reeled it in. He started the walk to the highest point along the cliff's edge. Dipper followed, and reluctantly Bill did too.

The tunnel had meandered sideways as it rose through the mountain; the stream that fed the waterfall they'd passed under was far to their left side, and the cliff looked out not over the lake, but over what used to be the shore, which was now submerged in several inches of water.

Dipper followed Ford to the edge so he could look over at the waterfall. For a moment, he couldn't figure out why the lake below looked wrong; but then he realized that the sun had risen high enough that the sky had changed from pink to pale blue. Which meant the lake should have been reflecting blue. "Why's the lake pink?"

When Ford just gave him a puzzled look—"It doesn't look pink to me."—Dipper turned to Bill.

Bill didn't even glance toward the lake. "Congratulations on being able to fully see the axolotls."

"There can't be enough to turn the lake pink," Ford protested, a tad irritably. "Leucistic axolotls are rare in the wild, they usually come in shades of brown and black."

"Oh you'll find anything to—" Bill pointed toward Dipper. "If you don't like their coloration, take it up with him! I'm not the one that told you how they look! If there weren't an independent witness here, you wouldn't have even believed me if I said there were axolotls."

"If there weren't an independent witness here, you wouldn't have told us there were axolotls." Ford slung off his backpack to rummage through it for the micro-rip scanner.

"Why am I seeing axolotls?" Dipper asked. "I mean, why... just me?"

Bill didn't answer for a second. He was still staring at the sky, watching something. He finally muttered, "Good question."

Dipper wasn't reassured by the fact that Bill wasn't even interested in pretending he knew the answer.

Bill said, "Remember when I told you that meeting some things—even just looking at them—will drive you mad? And that you almost met one?" He finally lowered his gaze to give Dipper a cruel smile. "Well, lucky you, you don't even need to build a portal. One's coming here."

Dipper swallowed hard. "So, don't look up?"

"Look who's finally catching on." Bill's gaze drifted away from Dipper's face and back to the sky.

"If just looking at it can drive you crazy, why are you looking?"

Bill laughed bitterly. "I've already taken as much damage as I can." With considerable effort, he tore his eyes from the sky. He floated to the edge of the cliff and peered over the edge.

Below were the sharp gray rocks near last night's campsite. Even from this high up, the future bloodstains were visible, bright red. They looked soon. Bill suppressed a shudder; his feet settled back on the ground and he backed away. "We're running out of time," he said. "You're as high as you can get, and you're still hundreds of feet below where the rift was. What now, smart guy?"

"I'm working on it." Ford was tying the end of his infinity belt's cable around the scanner. He gave the cable several feet of slack; twirled it in the air a few times to build up speed; and then let it go, sending it soaring into the sky. With gravity practically non-existent, the act of throwing it knocked Ford back a few inches, and the scanner simply kept on flying into the air.

Bill watched with his hands on his hips and a sour look. "Yeah, okay, all right, I guess that works."

"If anywhere is likely to have enough micro-rips to threaten reality, it'll be here," Ford said. "Here, we may need this." He took out the glue grenade, poured in his remaining adhesive, and handed the grenade to Dipper.

When the scanner reached its apex and began slowly falling, Ford pressed a button on his belt to retract the cable. He caught the scanner, examined the numbers, and frowned.

"Well?" Bill asked. He'd backed under the protective shade of a tree and was leaning on it with his arms crossed.

"Twenty-seven thousand micro-rips," Ford muttered. "The highest number so far. Nearly double the amount by Mabel's Fault."

Bill cupped a hand around his ear. "Sorry, did I hear you say 'a quarter of the danger threshold'?"

Ford didn't answer, still glaring at the numbers.

"So can we go now?" Bill asked. "Totality could be here any minute, and I do not want to be exposed on the highest spot in town."

Ford twirled the scanner over his head and chucked it again at another spot.

Bill let out a very quiet, very long, very high-pitched scream.

Ford whirled around. "Would you stop complaining!"

"SORRY! I've been seized by the FATAL HUMAN DELUSION that my actions might have an IMPACT on my FUTURE!" His face flushed with rage and his feet lifted several inches off the ground with the force of his screaming. "Or that MAKING SOUNDS with my MOUTH will COMMUNICATE MESSAGES that the HUMANS AROUND ME CAN COMPREHEND! But don't worry! I'm QUICKLY being proven wrong!"

Ford actually bared his teeth at Bill, and immediately felt stupid for it. He turned away and reeled in the scanner. Catching it bounced him into the air; it took him several seconds to settle back on the ground. "Twenty-five thousand."

"Great!" Bill snapped. "Let's go!"

"So... does that mean we don't need this?" Dipper asked, holding up the glue grenade.

Ford hesitated, looking out over the town. Maybe the danger threshold was lower than Fiddleford had calculated. Or maybe Ford hadn't thrown the scanner at the right spot. Or maybe the problem was dozens and dozens of sites that didn't reach the danger threshold alone, but compounded on each other to destabilize the whole region. Maybe throwing the glue grenade and dispersing it over town was still necessary to stop all this. Bill was right about one thing: "totality," whatever it really was—the full disappearance of gravity—was close. Every movement seemed to knock him minutely off the ground, and he could see his clothes floating.

But he had no evidence the glue grenade would do anything but wreck the environment. Plus, axolotls were endangered; he couldn't imagine invisible leucistic ones were doing much better. He sighed, stuffing his scanner away in his backpack. "I suppose not." Dipper nodded and stored the glue grenade in his own backpack.

"Great," Bill said. "Let's go."

"The micro-rip theory doesn't look likely," Ford said. "But that means something else is going on. And we don't have any backup explanation." He turned and gestured impatiently at Bill. "Except your stupid eclipse story, which is too vague to explain anything and probably riddled with lies."

"GREAT! Let's GO!"

"I came up here to find out what's going on. So what's going on?"

Bill's worried gaze flicked from Ford's face to the sky, back to Ford, over to Dipper. "Your uncle's gonna get himself killed, kid. We don't have to join him. Get over here, at least we can get back in the cave."

Dipper glanced at Ford, crossed his arms, glared at Bill, and stood his ground.

"Hsgd—Fffss—shhk." Bill covered his face, whimpered, and dragged his hands down his face so hard his nails left red lines. "I hate you both so much."

They weren't getting anywhere unless Ford caught Bill off-guard enough to accidentally reveal something. "Bill, what's the Axolotl."

Bill's gaze shot to Ford's face. He pointed past him toward the lake. "Kid saw as much as I did, he can tell you—"

"No, Bill. What is the Axolotl," Ford said. "Friend of yours?"

All the blood drained out of Bill's face.

Ford had struck a nerve. "What does it have to do with all this?"

"How much do you know."

Ford laughed harshly. "And give you an opportunity to mold your lies around my knowledge? Tell us what it is!"

"It's—a curse," Bill said. "It's a curse in living form."

"No. Tell the truth."

"What do you want to hear! He's my defense attorney, okay?!"

"I said the truth, Cipher!"

"WHY?! How would you know the truth if I told it?!" He flung his arms wide in defeat, voice climbing toward a desperate shriek, "I haven't lied once since the eclipse began! What else can I do?! Should I start making up plausible stories again?! Why are you pumping me for information you don't even believe! How can I tell you the truth if you won't give me any trust!"

Ford didn't have an answer.

Bill didn't deserve trust. Offering him even a sliver of trust could be fatal. Ford was 100% certain of that. And if Ford never trusted a single word out of Bill, then they'd never be able to hold a conversation, about anything, ever. Which was fine. He didn't want a conversation. That bridge burned over thirty years ago. Don't trust him.

So then why was Ford trying to hold a conversation with Bill? If Ford didn't believe him, why did he keep trying? What was he hoping for?

What did Ford want to hear?

He didn't have a chance to figure it out. Bill's gaze flicked behind Ford, he screamed, "Anchor yourselves!" and he flung his arms around the tree.

"Wh—" Ford dropped to one knee as he turned to look where Bill was looking, and Dipper tried to fling himself to the ground; but neither had a chance to get a grip in the grass before the last little bit of gravity disappeared—and was replaced by something new.

The waterfalls stopped flowing, then curled up into the sky. The grass and trees tilted toward the center of Gravity Falls, as though blown by an unfelt breeze. Water slowly rose up out of the lake. The Island Head Beast was lifted into the air, eyes frantically rolling around and groaning in alarm.

And an unseen force pulled Dipper and Ford over the edge of the cliff and into the sky.

Dipper only made it five feet before the bracelet's invisible thread pulled taut. It took him another second to realize he wasn't moving and stop screaming. Bill was still clinging to the tree. The bracelets' thread could pass through objects when it was invisible, but if you tried to grab onto it, you could; could Dipper use it to climb back to land?

"Don't let go! I'm gonna reel myself in!"

Bill laughed hysterically. "Do anything you want, I'm not going anywhere."

Dipper groped blindly around his braceleted wrist with his free hand; caught the thread; and started dragging himself, hand over hand, down toward Bill. But even as Dipper tried to reel himself in, the unseen force continued to pull him back—in more dimensions and planes than he could see.

Something poorly attached tugged loose.

His vision swam and the world went gray.

And his soul popped out of his body.

Dipper's ghost looked at Bill. Bill looked at Dipper's ghost. They both looked at Dipper's dead body. They started screaming.

"What happened?!" Dipper groped at his ghostly torso—and through it—and then flailed his arms in a desperate attempt to make them more corporeal. "Ohmigosh what happened to me!"

"It's not me!" Bill shouted. "I didn't do it, you saw me, I wasn't even touching your body, I'm innocent!"

"I'm in the mindscape," Dipper said, "this is the mindscape, right?" It was unmistakeable; the world was cool and gray and muffled, just like last year, just like in all his nightmares. "Why am I in the mindscape! What am I doing here!"

And then the gray landscape fell beneath a reddish-pink shadow.

Dipper turned around.

A massive shape, winding slowly through the air as though it were swimming, descended over Gravity Falls, sunlight filtering through its translucent pink body. So massive that Dipper couldn't see both ends of it at once. So massive that even though only a tiny cross section of its body passed through the third dimension's mindscape at once, the full mass of its unseen higher-dimensional body was vast enough to eclipse Earth's gravity—and cause every loose object in town to slowly fall skyward toward its body.

It was awe-inspiring and terrifying and majestic; and Dipper was sure he'd seen it before.

The Axolotl twisted back on itself, doing a loop in the sky that carried it halfway to the moon, to position itself to look down at the peak over Gravity Falls with one huge, black eye. Bill looked at the ground. Dipper looked at its face.

As Dipper made eye contact, the world froze. Everything slowed down. A hole in time and space opened where only the two of them existed; no one else could hear them and they could hear no one else. The Axolotl was so massive that Dipper could feel its thoughts like the static charge in a lightning storm and hear them like the echo of thunder. It thought—thunderously, apocalyptically, infinitely kindly—"Ah, yes. Hello again."

Dipper swallowed hard. "Hey," he croaked. "Have—we met?"

"Yes," the Axolotl said. "I'm afraid that's the only question I have time to answer. Tell your sister I said hello." Its world-making gaze moved off of Dipper, and he was back in the mindscape.

And the Axolotl turned his attention to Bill.

####

(Congratulations to the three people who saw it coming. Hope y'all enjoyed, would LOVE to hear what you think, and next week Things Get Worse, Again!!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #stanford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

207 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 9 months

Text

Floorplan

Steve Rogers/female reader 2.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Nomad era Steve. Reader and Steve have a baby together, mention of pregnancy. Possessive Steve Rogers. Praise kink. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Orgasm delay/denial. Could be considered toxic. Steve has issues with boundaries. Angst. Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.

Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.

It’s heavy, heavier than most, this you know without a doubt, because you carry it as well, it’s existence a variable in your life that you never expected, never even imagined, if you’re being honest.

A variable that ties him to you, indefinitely. For eternity. For better or for worse, without the papers or proof, the only exception being the small infant that sleeps in the room down the hall, while her father has you pinned against the bed, fingers digging into your thighs, splaying your body wide for him to do as he wishes, because you’re so fucking weak.

“Steve.” You hiss, word drawn loud from your mouth when the tip of his tongue works in tandem with his fingers, playing your clit easily, hips eagerly rocking against his face.

“Pillow, honey. Don’t want to be too loud.” He murmurs a reminder into your cunt, crooking a finger up against that spot, the sweet spot that waits for him inside your body, working you into a mindless haze, building you up closer and closer to an orgasm until you’re panting, curve of your spine shining with a glimmer of sweat. “That’s it, that’s it. Almost there.” He hums, pulling away at the last second to peek up at your face, beard wet with you, absolutely soaked with your arousal. It glistens in the low light of your bedroom, and he smirks before going back to his meal, dotting gentle and slow kisses down the inside of your thigh that make you whisper desperate pleas.

“Steve, please, don’t-“ Don’t stop. Keep going. Please, please, please.

“Shhh. I know.” He coos. “Just need to get you ready for me sweetheart, that’s all.” And, if you weren’t so lost in the haze of your pleasure right now, you’d probably have something sharp to say in response. He always does this. Brings you to the edge over, and over, makes you wild for him, ache for him, just so he can pluck your strings perfectly, harmonize your need with his since your mind won’t budge, his possession of your body always tipping you over the cliff and into his arms, every time, without fail.

Even a sailor lost at sea needs an anchor.

And he is lost, has been, for some time. Since Bucky. Since Tony. Since he broke everyone out of the raft and went on the run, dipping in and out of towns and cities across the globe.

That’s how you met him. That’s how you brought him home one night, that turned into two, that turned into more, and more. Your greed, your desire overriding your good sense because he was leaving soon, and he wouldn’t be around, and it’s all just some fun- I can keep a secret, Steve, you don’t have to hide from me. You’re safe with me. We’re not even together, just enjoying each other’s company, yeah?

You never thought you would survive it, loving him. Loving a man who’s not a man at all, who’s lost in the wilderness, who’s relearning everything about himself and the world all at once. Cast out by his country, his own namesake. Living on the run. Living with his band of misfit toys.

So, you kept it to yourself, even though he didn’t. Even though you heard him whisper it to you in the middle of the night, when he thought you must be asleep. Even though it felt like obsession, possession, both ends burning the midnight oil. You kept it to yourself, kept the smile on your face, kept the swell of your emotions at bay.

If you don’t love him, it won’t be as bad, when he goes. When they move on.

Then, Steve Rogers did something he didn’t even know he could do. Something he didn’t intend, he claims, something he was told should be impossible.

He gave you a baby.

He gave you a baby, and everything changed.

You’re just about to spit out something insistent, something needy, as he calls it, when you’re being moved, flipped over to your belly with no warning, the warmth of his chest bleeding across your back. His beard tickles against your ear, mouth pressing sweet kisses to your temple, and you can smell yourself on him, the proof of your weakness for him all over his face.

“Here we go, good girl. I’ve got you.” The solid weight of his cock lays between you, the spill of his pre come smearing against the inside of your thighs and then inside of you, the heavy, thick head pushing in little by little, your mouth drooping wide on the pillow.

“Ahh-“ you groan. It bites, the stretch, the sting of it all, and he knows, he loves it, and you do too (even though now you never tell him, because it’s not like before, not like when you weren’t the mother of his child, not like when things were simpler, when you could have walked away, when you weren’t falling down the rabbit hole with a man who has lost his entire identity, his country, his life-)

“God, honey. What a sweet little pussy you have for me, huh?” His teeth find the skin of your neck, below your jaw, and they graze with a nip, light pressure to punctuate his ownership. For me. For me, for me, for me. “Just perfect. My perfect, good girl.” You try to bite back the moan that rises in your throat but it’s impossible, and he’s no fool, the curl of his smile imprints across your skin, cock sawing in and out of your body like you were made for it.

He says you were, of course. That you were made for him, and for no one else, and he doesn’t care what happens in the next year, or two, or ten. You’ll always be his. He’ll always come back. He’ll always be here.

“What will you do if… when you go home, to America?”

“I’ll bring you both. Put you up in a place. Or maybe I’ll buy you a house, honey. With a white picket fence and everything. Give you another baby. Give you two more babies.”

“Steve-“

“No, no. Don’t.”

“Steve.” You whine, still mouthing the pillow, fingers tight in the sheets. You clench down around him, unable to keep yourself from barreling towards your orgasm any longer, and he whispers encouragement in your ear, soft praise of how good you feel and how wet and are you going to come for me, honey? You going to give a me a good one? Let me feel you squeezing my cock with it?

Your first orgasm comes with ease. So does your second.

Your third comes with tears that he laps up across your cheek, as too many words get stuck in your throat. I love you. I hate you. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you to leave.

It builds, each time he slips inside the house at night, each time you come home from work or errands and he’s sitting on the couch reading a book, or sketching, just waiting for you and Emmaline. It builds and builds, when he’s got you bent over the kitchen table, cheek pressed to the wood, sinking his cock into your body with an unmatched fury, breathing claims of ownership against your skin. Mine, for me. My girls. My baby.

“Maybe I’ll give you another. Fill you up until you’re overflowing, get you pregnant.” It’s an overload, a killshot straight to your heart, your nervous system, and it engulfs you in fire, your body clenching around his cock involuntarily, like all it wants is to be bred by him, fucked deep with his come until you’re round with his baby, again. And he knows it, knows it too well. Sees the way your eyes shutter, can feel the way your body begs for it. You want to come, and he’ll torture you with it, dragging it out until you’re breaking apart. “Go ahead, tell me honey. Say it, do you want it?”

“Y-yes, please. Please, daddy.”

Everything you carry, all the tangles, the snarled mess that exists in your heart for him surges, and his hand sneaks between the mattress and your body to cup your belly, palm warm like a brand. Like it’s always been, now, and before-

He holds you from behind, hands flush overtop your navel, stroking the roundness of your stomach with longing affection.

“How’re my girls today?”

“Tired.” You shift, and he hums in response. You’re about to snap at him about being here in the first place, remind him he can’t just use his key whenever, let himself inside whenever, but his hands drift to the bottom of your belly and lift, robbing you of all the lectures and rebuttals as the pressure on your spine is instantly relieved.

“That better sweetheart?”

He’s deep, so deep that it burns, head of his cock punching against your cervix, hitting that spot repeatedly. You gasp, burying your face in the pillow, smothering the shriek of your moans. He’s close, you can tell, you can feel it, the way his muscles start to become rock, the strike of his hips against your ass moving you further up the bed until your neck is craning to the side to avoid the headboard.

“Here it comes honey, lie still, just- just let me- let me give it to you.” It’s a stammered slur being pushed out through a too tense jaw, restraint burning in his muscles, arms cradling you like a precious, rare gem to be coveted, something more important than duty and a shield.

Later, he’s still in your bed, even though he said he wouldn’t be.

He’s heavy, and hot, so hot that you don’t need a blanket when he holds you. You find it fascinating, even more curious that your own child runs hotter than normal too, more evidence of the clear truth that both you and Steve are working vigilantly to hide and disguise.

“You should sleep.” He’s insistent, and your lashes flutter closed with a big breath.

“You don’t have to stay.” He wants to. He’s stubborn about it. It’s the reason he gave for appearing on your doorstep earlier.

“Why didn’t you call? I would’ve come sooner.”

“It’s not like I know where you are these days.”

“Don’t. Don’t… start this.”

“She has colic, Steve. There’s not much you’re going to be able to do, we just have to ride it out.”

“I don’t care. I’m here.”

He was the one who had managed getting Emmaline to sleep earlier, rocking her in his arms until she settled, sweet little baby finally succumbing to lullaby of sweet dreams in her dad’s arms.

He’s so good at it, taking care of her, understanding what she needs and when, that you hardly sputtered a protest when he clicked her door shut and pulled you in for a kiss, pushing you into your own bedroom and laying you out on your back, a hand pinning your stomach to the sheets, another gripping your thigh wide for him, his strength forcing your body into a trap, where you were powerless. Stuck.

“I guess I gotta put both my girls to bed, right? Isn’t that what you needed? Just needed daddy here, honey?”

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll get her, when she gets up.” The fire of his skin makes everything in the room feel heavy, feel heady, and it’s so easy to slip into your imagination to pretend, dream about a world where your relationship wasn’t shattered, where Emmaline’s dad wasn’t just a shadow in the dark half the time he’s in the house, in her life, in yours.

“You can’t just keep coming here, acting like everything is normal.” You whisper to the ceiling, but he doesn’t respond, just hums into your skin, deaf to your sense, your logic.

You’re right. You know you are. Why can’t he just see that?

“Steve.” You pick at him. Pushing and pushing, careening closer to a breaking point, an inevitable end when he will sigh with the weight of exasperation, and then ease himself out of bed and disappear into the night.

“This is the normal, for now.” He says instead, a rebuttal that takes you by surprise, a change in his usual course. Fingers stretch over yours with a yank, pulling you closer into the bend of his body. “But it won’t always be like this. We’ll go home soon.” Home. It sounds nice, but feels like a threat, considering this has been your home for years now, and this was where you were raising Emmaline, and this is where you had settled into life, started a career, put down roots.

“Steve, I’m already home.” You remind him and he chuckles softly against your brow.

“Are you?”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #steve rogers smut #peaches writes #steve rogers x female reader #mcu #nomad!steve #nomad!steve rogers #chris evans fanfiction

514 notes · View notes

reborrowing · 17 days

Text

@gtzel made a post about saving a drowning tiny from a pool yesterday and I do love me a good Terrible Situation

It was supposed to be a shortcut, one the borrower took all the time.

A leap out of the tree, skip off the fence down onto wall of the pool, and a quick jog across the cover so they didn’t have to run all the way around the massive structure on their way back to the garden.

They’d already jumped when they noticed the cover was absent. They struggled against their practiced momentum only to slip and slide on a puddle that carried them into the vast sea below.

It was not the pleasant water of the creek. It was not the clean water tapped from a pipe. It was acid, with chlorine that burned their face before they even hit the water. And it was cold, cold enough to set them gasping as soon as they managed to get their head back above the surface where it belonged.

They turned to swim towards an escape, but the walls rose out of reach. They fumbled with their gear but the encroaching panic was making it harder and harder to think straight and they couldn’t…they could barely keep afloat even with their hands free.

A leaf floated by to offer some relief. They threw themself at the paltry raft but even their meager weight was too much for the leaf to support. They fell beneath the surface again, this time taking in a horrible, burning gasp of water. They sputtered and kicked and everything was starting to get dark and disorienting.

They were going to die here. They closed their eyes and a dark shadow fell over them. hey assumed it was death itself and felt something like relief. At least it was over.

“What is—oh my god!”

A human’s voice booming overhead was enough to rouse them, but not enough to keep them awake. Even when they felt a net catch against their shoulder, they couldn’t bring themself to react. It pulled them out of the water and into the open.

Oh. That’s bad. That’s very bad, they thought distantly.

They flickered in and out of consciousness, floating through clouds of black. A heavy warmth enveloped them and pressed against their ribs.

“Jesus, what are you? Are you okay? Can you understand me?” the voice wavered around them.

When they woke back up, they found themself carefully cocooned in a soft cloth. They wriggled themself deeper into the folds for a few blissful seconds until reality set in.

Their lungs felt burnt, as if a fire had passed through them, and their whole chest ached. They had to fight against a thick fatigue just to sit up and see that they were inside the house, on the kitchen counter, mere feet away from one of the humans that lived there.

But it wasn’t watching them.

They forced themself to crawl out of the warm towel to make their escape. Their things had been stacked, perhaps as neatly as the human could manage with their clumsy fingers. A torn bit of bread and an apple slice were waiting there as well, a bounty well beyond what they could eat. Theirs for the taking. They paused.

They looked back at the human, who was staring intently at their phone, face wrinkled with worry. Worried about what? Not the borrower, surely. Though the human had just saved their life…They sat back down on the plush towel, to the relief of their aching body.

“Hey,” they called out. “Th-thank you.”

The human’s eyes lit up and the worry melted from their face. The borrower’s heart jumped as the titan leaned in close, but they only wanted to be sure that the borrower was alright. And against all reason, they were.

#not confident about this one ah ah tagging anyways #g/t #giant tiny #my writing #amwt

152 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months

Note

hmmmm maybe simmer eddie acting like rs puppy when girls try to talk to him , hes like 👀 to us

You could see Eddie from across the diner.

He’d come out from the safety of the kitchen only to help Jonathan plug in a new coffee machine behind the bar and before he could get back to his omelette mix, a girl from out of town had struck up a conversation.

It had been about something as normal as the coffee beans Jonathan had handed to him and you watched as Eddie showed the girl the packet. But then she was leaning in and tapping at his name badge and you could see the way her lips wrapped around his name even if you were too far away to hear.

She was touching his arm, fingers curled around his chefs jacket and from across the diner, Eddie looked around, eyes wide and searching, trying to find yours.

He looked like a trapped rabbit, something akin to a baby deer perhaps, caught in headlights. He stared at you, brows raised as if he were waiting on you doing something. What that something was, you were unsure, but it was rather funny to watch the blush rise over the boy’s cheeks as the girl stepped a little closer.

You would’ve went over to save him if it weren’t for the family of five that stole you to take their order, taking too long to decide between pizza and pasta and the loaded nachos. When you looked back up, scribbling down five glasses of lemonade on your pad, you saw Eddie shaking his head, frowning in that way he did and looking panicked. He was pointing to you and then looking back at the girl, his hands held up in surrender, making a show of not touching his new friend back.

As if you had any reason not to trust him. You smothered a grin and told your customers you’d be right back with drinks. By the time you reached the kitchen, Eddie had dipped back inside and he grabbed you on entry, a full bodied thing that felt more like you were his life raft than him hugging you.

“Did you see her!” He intoned, disbelief colouring his voice. “I told her, sweetheart, told her all about you and how pretty you were but she kept puttin’ her damn hand on me—”

Argyle was slicing peppers across the station and he shook his head in solidarity. “Women,” he agreed.

You snorted, sliding your order over to Argyle before giving Eddie your full attention. You grinned, slipping your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss, something sweet and quick for the sake of professionalism. “I saw,” you told him, nodding in faux seriousness, matching his tone. “Hope you let her down gently, chef.”

“What?” Eddie’s brow furrowed. “You aren’t mad?”

“Of course I’m not mad, handsome,” you laughed, moving away to pull out the giant containers of ketchup and mustard that you could never really lift. Eddie sighed and moved to help you, lifting both with ease. You peered at him, amused. “Should I have reason to be mad?”

“What? No,” Eddie said again, as serious as a heart attack. “But you could’ve come and fuckin’ saved me at least, I was being eaten alive.”

“Eddie, she touched your arm.”

“Yeah, like some kind of scarlet woman.”

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson oneshot #Eddie munson blurb #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie baby blurb #simmer blurb

717 notes · View notes

alexa-fika · 5 months

Note

Whatever you do is going to be good anyway

But the scenario am picturing is in Marineford

Winged Reader is with Mihawk and he's hiding but during the chaos he finds himself hiding in the Whitebeards ship

And when they save Ace the escape with Mihawk's son And they try to help him go back to Mihawk

But if you want to change anything that's okay

🐼💕~

Enemies yesterday, Babysitters today ( Whitebeard pirates x male!oDracule!child!reader)

A/N: Okay yall I honestly might revisit this later and add more wholesomeness to it cause im not completely content with the level it has right now, but you tell me does it make you kick your feet?

Dividers by @/saradika

“Gurararara Ace, how are you feeling?”

"Doing good pops, still mad my jolly Roger got erased,” he grumbles

“We can do the tattoo Again; just be glad you are only missing that and not your life; you were almost a goner there.” Marco sighs

“Fair enough, still stings when I look in the mirror, though,” he mumbles

A crash sounds across the ship as what sounds like boxes and a scream echo from the storage room of the Moby Dick

“We might have a stowaway…” Marco notes

“Is it one of the bastards from Marineford?” Jozu growls, activating his devil fruit

“Be Careful, Jozu, we do not know who we are dealing with here,” Izou says, pulling out his guns

“Don’t even think about it, Sir; you are still healing,” One of the nurses comments, looking towards Whitebeard, who grunts in response

“We’ll handle it, pops; I don’t mind a little exercise; I’m bored, and if it is one of the bastards, I need to let out some steam,” he says, walking towards the storage room; the rest of the commanders, following behind him

“Whoever they are, they should be able to hold their own if they managed to make it on board,” Thatch says, his eyes lighting up with a twinkle.

“I wonder what they would be doing in the storage, though…”

“It’s probably a marine stowaway; probably best to show him some rough treatment,” Vista says as he smirks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Come on out.” He calls our

Ace kicks the door open.

“Alright, whoever you are, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Ace says, grinning

“If they don’t answer, then we’ll have to find them ourselves,” Marco says as he begins to activate his power

Ace walks ahead and peeks into the corner where the commotion could be heard from, and he stills, making gestures to their fellow commanders to lower their weapons as he kneels down

“Ace, be careful; a wounded man is still a threat, especially the ones trying to hide,” Marco states as walking next to the second commander

“Don’t lower your…guard.” he stops glancing at their stowaway

“Pop’s is going to love this one,” he mutters, turning back to the rest of the commanders

“It’s a kid”

“What, is this someone’s kid? A stray?” Izou questions, looking down at the stowaway

Reader glances between all the men staring him down, inching back and trying to make himself smaller, covering himself with his wings

“Kid, what brings you here ?” Ace says with a soft voice,

“How were you able to get on board? How long have you been hiding for?” Ace says as he sits on his knees to meet the kid's height, looking at him directly in his eyes

Reader glances at Ace for a second but lowers his face and tries to dig himself deeper into his caccoon between his wings

“He's scared, a very brave kid, that one, I would be too if I was in this situation.” He says, smiling kindly at the stowaway,

“Hey, it's ok, you're safe now.”

“Wait.. you’re, you're the kid that was with Hawkeye when we were dueling,” Vista states, taking a closer look at the winged child

Reader looks up at that

“You know, Dad?” He mumbles

“Oh yes, yes, we know who he is,” Vista answers as he gets on his knees beside Ace.

“What are you doing on this ship, kid? You know this isn’t the type of lifestyle for someone as young as you?”

He unfurls himself from His wings slightly

“I -I left the raft. Dad told me to stay on the raft no matter what, but I thought he was going to get hurt, and then Uncle Shanks came, and I got scared they were going to fight again,” he rambles on

“I think we finally have the story here. That sounds like an adventurous kid,” Ace says, rubbing his brow in thinking

“A bit brave and reckless, too,” he adds on

“He’s definitely got a good head on his shoulders,” Izou says approvingly of the boy

“Okay, you ended up on the battlefield because you got scared for your father, but how did you end up here in the Moby Dick.” Inquires Marco, looking down at him

“Everything was confusing; there was so much going on, so umm, I kinda ended up here..”

“Aww, Kid, we’ve all been through times like that; I’m sure your father will be grateful you at least took the initiative to get to him,” Thatch says with a smile.

“But, you can’t just board a pirate’s ship and expect them to be kind; you might not be as lucky next time,” he says, kneeling down in front of him

Marco sighs

“let’s bring him out to Pops; we’ll talk about what we’ll do from there.”

“Yes, I think that’s enough questions for now; I don’t think this kid needs a full-on interrogation just yet,” Vista adds.

Reader gets up hesitantly and approaches Vista, stretching his up, opening and closing his hands

Vista chuckles, lifting the child and putting him on his hip

“Are you really Hawkeyes kid?”

He nods

“Are you friends with Dad?”

“Not exactly…I mean, we know each other and have fought before…” Vista trails off, slightly unsure of what he wants to say

“There’s…mutual respect between us, but we have found ourselves on opposite sides on the battlefield.” he says, mulling over his words, trying to define their relationship best not to alarm the small child.”

“Regardless, we will help you return to your father; do not worry.” Ace states

“What are your names?”

“I am Vista of the Flower Swords”

He gestures at the group

Portgas D. Ace.”

“Jozu of the Diamond”

“Marco the Phoenix”

“Thatch, Head of the Ships Cooks

Flintlock Pistols Izou.”

“Geez, Vista, No need to be so formal.” Thatch sighs

Reader smiles, his wings flapping happily behind him

“Im Dracule Reader, umm Reader from Papa!”

“Reader? What an interesting name for a little boy.” Izou says with a slight chuckle

“This is Pops, Whitebeard, the captain of this ship,” Vista says, walking in front of said man

Reader awes at the man fluttering out of Vista’s hold and up to Whitebeard

“You’re big! You’re bigger than the humandrills at home!” He says, circling around him

“I was wondering who was making that ruckus; what brings this brat here,” he says, glancing at the flying boy

“He said his name was Reader, Dracule Reader,” Marco said, glancing up at both

“Dracule? What is your relation to Hawkeye?”

“That’s Papa!”

“Hawkeye is your father?” He says, looking over to Marco, who nods

“Vista confirmed it; he saw this one lingering around the battlefield close to Hawkeye.”

“That is correct, pops; the little one is Hawkeye's son,” he says proudly, pointing at Reader

“We found him hiding in the storage room.” Marco clarified

“He said he followed his father into the battlefield but lost him in the heat of the battle,” Vista says, explaining the circumstances as to how Reader found his way to Whitebeard's crew

“I see, in that case, Bring me a Den Den Moshi,” Whitebeard says to one of the nurses next to him

“We’ll get into contact with your father.”

“You’ll help me get back? But Mister Vista of the Flower swords said you were fighting with Dad.”

“Yes, your father and we are on opposite sides; however, your father was just following orders from the Marines, and regardless if he was an enemy or not, you are not. I know the pain of losing a son,” he says, glancing at Ace

“Because I know the pain, I do not wish it upon anyone right now; this is not between enemies but between fathers. You were not involved in the fight, and as such, there is no need for you to suffer from it,” he grunts as the nurses bring him the Den-Den Mushi

Reader’s lip quivers

“Thank you!”

“You’re safe now, kid; we’re going to call your dad and let him know you’re safe; once we do, we can arrange somewhere to meet. You’re lucky you picked the right ship to stow away on, kid,” Marco says

“I’m sure your father is worried sick trying to find you. Don’t worry; we’ll make the arrangements to get you back to your dad,” Thatch says with a smile

Reader flies down to to where the commenders stood

“Thank you, Marco, the Phoenix and Thatch head of ship cooks.”

Marco chuckles at this

“Vista, this is why I said not to be so formal! Oi kid, no need for titles.” Thatch groans out

“Is Thatch head of the ships cooks not your name? But Vista of the flower swords said those were your names?”

Thatch chuckles

” You’re something else, kid; I like you.”

“Ah?” He tilts his head, confused

“I can see you are going to be quite the handful; Vista told you our names and Epithets, surnames in Ace’s case; you don’t need to call me Flintlock Pistols Izou; you can just call me Izou,” he comments, chuckling, along with the other commanders

”Izou’s right; we all have titles or epithets; you’ve got a good head on you, kid; how about you give it a try,” the chef said, gesturing to himself

“Umm, Thatch Cooks?”

“Cooks? Now I’m not sure if you’re messing with me or not,” he laughs

“Not quite that; try again, just one word,” he says while trying to hold back his laughter

“Thatch?”

“That’s right, see, not so hard you’re already learning.” he laughs and ruffles his head

He beams at the compliment and glances at Vista

“Vista?”

“Haha, that’s my name, kid,” he says.

“Well done!” he exclaims happily, picking him up once again and placing him on his shoulders

Joyous giggles escape the small boy, holding onto his head and flapping his wings occasionally to keep balance until he picks up the sound of the Den Den Mushi ringing and a familiar voice coming through

“Hawkeye,” Whitebeard calls curtly

“What do you want, Shirohige? If this concerns the recent battle, I really do not have time-

“It’s about your son; he is here.”

Mihawk falls silent for a moment

“What?”

“Your son stowed away on the Moby Dick; he said he was trying to escape the head of the battle and ended up in my ship.”

“Where are you?”

“We are approaching Sabaody Archipelago.”

“Very well. I will be there shortly.”

“We’ll be waiting for you,” he said, hanging up and glancing toward the child

“He will meet us at the next Island.”

Reader can’t help but laugh with relief, glad that they will see their father soon

Vista chuckles

“You’re in a better mood than you were when we first discovered you now, aren’t you?”

He nods

“Im gonna see Dad again!”

“You sure are; you just have to stick with us, and we’ll ensure you get to him safe and sound,” Ace exclaims

“Okay!”

Vista smiles, taking off his iconic hat and placing it over the child

They giggle as the hat envelops them, and he raises it slightly to take a small peek and be able to see

Ace smiles at the gesture, happy to see the kid smile after the traumatic ordeal he’s been through

“Glad you are in a better mood,” Ace grins, ruffling Reader’s hair

“That’s good to hear, kid; I’m happy as well,” Marco adds, giving the kid’s hat a little pat before pulling it back down to cover them

They shriek cheerfully as they are once again enveloped by the hat

“Gurararara, We’ve got ourselves a live one; didn't get that from your father, that’s for sure.” he grinned as the ship pulled up to the Archipelago; it was still dark out but slowly beginning to become morning in the distance

“Hm? Isin’t that Hawkeye over there?” Thatch comments, squinting his eyes to a small raft that slowly approached the Moby Dick

“Let’s not get too close to the raft; let him approach us,” Izou says, looking towards the raft

“He won’t try anything, not with his son here, and Im sure even someone like him can tell when he is outnumbered with all of our commanders and pops here Marco says, leaning against the railing and staring at the approaching raft

Ace approaches the railing, trying to get a better view of the raft, looking to make out the figure at the front

“It is him.”

“Dad?” The small child says, peeking out from under the hat again

“Dad!” He exclaims, taking off towards the approaching raft, ignoring the calls from the pirates as he barrels into Mihawk, hugging him tightly, tears pooling in his eyes as he apologizes repeatedly.

“I’m sorry, Dad; you told me to stay in the raft, but I thought you would get hurt, and I just caused more trouble for you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries

Mihawk stands frozen for a second, taken back by his son’s words

“No. Your apology is unnecessary. The fault lies in me for leaving you alone. What’s important is that you are back with me now.” he says, embracing him

“Look, I require you to stay by my side from now on, okay? No more running off by yourself.” Mihawk says as the raft gradually comes closer to the Moby Dick.

He nods his head vigorously, the hat too big for his head, wobbling around at the movement

Mihawk glances up at the hat and raises an eyebrow mutely, questioning his child

“It’s Mister Vista’s”

“Is that so?” he says, glancing up at the Moby Dick, spotting said man along with the commanders and Whitebeard himself leaning against the railing, watching father and son

Whitebeard’s gaze slowly falls upon Mihawk.

“You’ve got yourself a handful there, Hawkeye. But I must say, it’s good to see someone capable of putting the past behind them; such is the innocence of childhood.”

“Indeed, it is something that I have sworn myself to protect at all cost,” he says, looking back upon his son

“We meet Again, Hawkeye,” Vista says, grinning at the swordsman

“It seems we do, Vista of the Flower Swords; you have my gratitude for taking care of my son

“It was my pleasure; he is definitely something special, though,” he says with a chuckle

“Let us finish the fight we put on hold the next time we see each other; I anxiously wait to see who will come on top; the promise of that is enough payment for me.”

“Then so it shall be; the next time we encounter, we will let our blades finish what they started,” he said, preparing to return home with his son

“Ah, wait!” He said, flying back to the Moby Dick and gently placing Vista’s hat on his head once again

“Thank you, Mister Vista, thank you, everyone; I hope I can see you again! I had fun!”

“You’ll be seeing me again someday, kid, so make sure you do all you can to get stronger,” he says, lowering the child to the ground, ruffling his hair

“You’re going to make quite a fine pirate someday,” Vista laughs, ruffling the boy’s hair. “now get on back to your father and get some rest; this was a big day for you.”

“And don’t worry, kid, all of you are always welcome on my ship; just make sure next time to board it the proper way and not as a stowaway,” Whitebeard says with a broad smile

“I couldn’t agree more. Don’t be a stranger, kid!” Ace says to the pair as he watches over the kid

“You’re lucky it was us you picked to stow away with, kid; you have nothing to worry about from us,” Marco adds, ruffling Reader’s head

Whitebeard’s gaze falls upon the two once again as they bid their farewells to the kid

Future parts with Uncle shanks? Or Maybe Whitebeard pirates babysitting?

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

348 notes · View notes

uncharismatic-fauna · 10 months

Text

Uncharismatic Fact of the Day

Most animals don't have the firepower to tangle with the Portuguese Man'o'war, as their venomous sting can be extremely painful or even lethal. One predator, however, can't get enough of these floating siphonophores! The violet sea snail creates a raft out of mucus bubbles, and waits on the surface of the water waiting for jellyfish to float by for a tasty snack.

(Image: A violet sea snail (Janthina janthina) floating on its hand-made bubble raft by Denis Reik)

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a ko-fi!

#violet sea snail #Epitonioidea #Epitoniidae #sea snails #snails #gastropods #mollusks #invertebrates #uncharismatic facts

419 notes · View notes

literaryavenger · 4 months

Text

Black Panther - Post Credit Scene

Summary: Bucky comes out of the ice.

Pairing: Avengers x F!Reader, Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Nothing really for this one, maybe language. Mostly fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I want to specify that I used google translator for the Xhosa, so I hope it's at least decent, but I thought it would be cute to put it in there. I've had this ready to go for WEEKS and I'm so glad I finally get to post it! I hope you like the idea of a reunion like this as much as I do! Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You’ve been on the run for a year now with Steve, Sam and Natasha. A few weeks after you all escaped the Raft, Clint and Scott decided to make a deal with Ross to get house arrest because being on the run and away from their families was too hard for them.

The five of you that remained went from safe house to safe house while doing as many missions as you could, never staying in one place too long and still trying to help people to the best of your capabilities, with Wanda disappearing from time to time to spend time with Vision.

Lately, though, you’ve been noticing Steve’s been a little fidgety, even disappearing here and there for a couple of days at a time.

You want to ask him what’s going on, but you don’t want to be nosy so you wait for if and when he’s ready to talk about it.

And that time comes one random afternoon as you’re all sitting around in the living room of the safe house you’re in, Wanda being off with Vision.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” He sits next to you and you nod, putting down your book to give him your full attention. “I know you’ve all been wondering where I go every now and then, and I’m glad you didn’t push it. But I’m ready for you guys to know now.”

He addresses everybody before turning to you and looking straight in your eyes as he finishes. “Bucky’s awake.”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t seem to find it in you to say anything more than “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner...” He looks actually sorry. “We just thought it would’ve been better to keep it as lowkey as possible.”

You nod and look at the floor, trying not to show your disappointment.

It makes sense. After all Steve is his best friend, his brother, his only family. You’re barely an acquaintance.

Right?

“He asked about you.” your eyes snap back to him. “He wanted you to be there, but he understood. He’s glad you’re safe.”

“From the government or from him?” you mumble and Steve gives you an apologetic look, but lets it go.

“The thing is, I kind of need to ask you a favor.” you narrow your eyes at him and he raised his hands in surrender. “It’s nothing bad, I swear!”

“Fine,” you sigh. “What do you want?”

“It’s just, the mission we’ve been planning is important…” he looks at the plans and footprints on the table. “And only three of us are needed for it.”

You think you see where this is going. “You want me to take over your part of the mission?!” you look at him like he grew three heads. How the hell can you take on the role of a supersoldier?

“No, of course not. That’s the thing.” he quickly clarifies. “I can’t be spared for this, and we know the mission is gonna last a while.”

“Where are you going with this, Rogers?” you’re just confused now.

“Could you look after Bucky for me?”

Oh. You try hard not to look too excited about the prospect of seeing Bucky again and spending time with him.

“Are you… sure that’s a good idea?” you ask him as coolly as you can.

“It’s not gonna be hard. You just need to keep an eye on him from a distance.” good thing you managed your expectations. “Shuri’s gonna be working with him and, when he’s ready, she’ll let you talk to him.” Okay, you’re excited again.

“Uhm,” you have to at least pretend to think about it, right? “I guess, if I’m not needed on the mission and you are, I could do you this favor.”

You fight a smile as you make the mistake to look at Sam, that’s grinning, knowing full well how you feel about Bucky. You groan and roll your eyes, but he says nothing, thankfully.

“Thank you.” Steve lays a hand on your arm and smiles at you. “This means a lot to me.”

“I know.” you smile back, then hug him.

“Okay,” he says as you let go “we’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

You nod and get up to finish packing the bag you were getting ready for the mission in a few days.

After you’re done, you go back to the living room to spend one last night with Sam, Steve and Nat as you don’t know how long it’s gonna be before you see them again.

The next morning you wake up thankful you’re not hungover and get your stuff with Steve’s into the jet, Sam and Nat accompanying you out to say the last goodbyes.

“I’ll miss you.” you tell Nat as you hug her “Please don’t cut your hair again while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try not to.” she laughs, hugging you back. “I’ll miss you too, Crazy.”

“Try not to miss me too much.” Sam tells you as he hugs you too, making you roll your eyes with a smile.

“Sure, birdbrain.” He groans at the nickname “Be careful.”

He nods and, after they say goodbye to Steve too, the two of you board the quinjet and make your way to Wakanda.

You are met by Princess Shuri and King T’Challa himself. You hug Steve goodbye as he makes his way to visit Bucky before his mission and to tell him he probably won’t be coming by again for a while.

Shuri and T’Challa, who insisted you drop their formal titles, give you a tour of the palace and then take you to a guest room that’s basically a suite, and you’re shocked to find out you’ll be living here in the palace for the duration of your stay.

As promised you look after Bucky from a distance.

Every morning you and Shuri get escorted to Bucky’s hut where she works with him on his deprogramming as you and Ayo hang back.

Other than making sure he’s okay, there’s not really much for you to do so you take this time to get to know the people. It astonishes you how easy you get welcomed by the community.

You’re taught their customs by the locals, you pick up some Xhosa, not a lot but enough to have conversations and you’re even taught to fight by the Dora Milaje. Mostly Okoye and even Ayo since the two of you cleared the air after the whole airport fight.

She apologized profusely about the wound she inflicted in your arm, which has been fully healed for months now, and you assured her it was okay. You understood she was simply doing her job and admired her passion and determination to protect her king.

Also, it turns out you broke a couple of her ribs, which you also apologized for, so you two decided to just call it even.

You got comfortable fast; dressing with their clothes, participating in their festivities and playing around with the children everyday as Shuri does whatever she does with Bucky.

You’re always careful to not get too close to be seen while still being close enough to keep an eye on them.

After their sessions Shuri always brings you up to speed and then you report to Steve to let him know Bucky’s doing good.

You’re making your way to Shuri’s lab where you’ve met her everyday for the couple of months that you’ve been in Wakanda.

“Good morning, Princess.” you tell her, bowing when you stop in front of T’Challa. “My King.”

“Stop that.” he swats at you as both you and Shuri laugh.

“Ready to go?” Ayo asks and you eye her suspiciously as she’s grinning like she does right before she makes a move that instantly knocks you on your ass during training.

“What are you up to?” you ask her but she just keeps on smiling.

“Today is the day, Agent.” Shuri tells you as smirks, knowing how you feel about the nickname.

“I’m not an agent of anything.” you roll your eyes, then register what she just said. “Wait, what do you mean, today’s the day?”

“Sergeant Barnes is ready.” she says and you can’t help the smile that comes to your face, which falls with a groan when you see them all smirking at each other at your reaction.

“Let’s just go.” you say as you turn around and start walking with Shuri and Ayo.

“Have fun!” T’Challa yells after you.

“Your order is my command, Your Highness!” you yell back and you all laugh at the loud groan he lets out.

As always, Shuri gets closer while you and Ayo hang back and she walks to the shore of the lake in front of the hut and then stops there.

You see three kids run out of Bucky’s hut, laughing, and the princess turns around as they run up to her and hug her.

“Are you playing around with that man again?” she asks, laughing. “You’re teasing him again.” she keeps teasing them as they chant ‘no’ between laughter and you can’t help but smile.

Bucky exits the hut and, like every other day, he takes your breath away. His sun-kissed skin, his Wakandan robes, his growing beard and the longer hair. The whole style just suits him.

You see him take a deep breath and then he gets closer to Shuri as the children run towards you giggling about the “Ingcuka Emhlophe”. [White Wolf]

“Uyayithanda Ingcuka Emhlophe?” you ask them. [You like the White Wolf?]

“Yena engaqhelekanga” one of the kids says and you laugh. [He’s strange]

“Kutheni ephulukene nengalo nje?” another one asks you. [Why is he missing an arm?]

You aren’t sure what to say, they are children after all, but you try your best.

“Kuba uyindoda ekhaliphileyo eyathi yenzakala xa inceda abantu.” [Because he is a brave man that was injured while helping people]

They all look at him in awe just as you hear Shuri say, “Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky.” he corrects her and you smile.

“How are you feeling today?” she asks him.

“Good. Thank you.” she smiles and motions towards you.

“Come. Much more for you to learn.” she says as she starts walking.

He takes a second to look out at the lake before following Shuri, but as soon as he spots you, he stops.

He stares as you’re giggling with the children that are now circling around you and dancing, and when you look towards Bucky again his eyes are already on you.

You blush a little at his intense gaze but he seems to snap out of it when your eyes meet his and he gets closer until he’s right in front of you.

“Sergeant.” you say, smirking.

“Doll.” he says, smirking back.

You smile at each other until Shuri clears her throat and you turn to look at her just to see both her and Ayo with a smirk of their own. You roll your eyes at them, but your smile stays on.

“Shall we?” Shuri says and starts walking, Ayo right behind her.

Bucky takes your hand and starts walking after Shuri too, pulling you with him, both of you feeling like nothing could wipe the smiles off your faces.

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham @mary-jinx @abbyyourlocalmilf @selcouthial @esposadomd @americaarse @multiversefanfics

259 notes · View notes