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asonofpeter · 8 months

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Night Shift

Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: Jaime doesn't like that you work a night shift at a bar, so setting out to get a job at Kord Industries, you're shocked when he comes home with something else....

Warnings: mentions of men being pervs, lots of screaming and a little bit of violence, SPOILERS FOR BLUE BEETLE!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: My first full fic in a while? Yes, it is indeed and with my new love, Jaime Reyes. If you haven't seen Blue Beetle, pause and go buy a ticket cause this movie is good! So proud of mi Xolito! Anyway, I'm proud of this, so enjoy! 💕💕💕

I don't consent to my work being copied, reposted, or translated.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know? I’ll get the job tomorrow and work hard to support the family and us,” Jaime stood up from your bed, grabbing hold of your hands to stop you from getting ready for work.

“Jaime, I know you want to do everything you can to stop us from losing the house, but we need the money, wherever we can get it from,” you inhaled.

You moved in with the Reyes three years ago after your parents kicked you out. The details are unimportant and messy but you were happy you ended up in a loving household after all. The only problem now, you’re on the brink of becoming homeless.

“But a job where drunk assholes violate you?” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, knowing most customers haven’t gotten handsy since you started. “It’s not right,” he shook his head, squeezing your hands. “I don’t want you to have to go through that,” he rested his forehead against yours.

You knew he meant well. It sucked having to work at a bar where wearing low-cut tops and push-up bras made for extra tips. Especially when you worked during the night. But then again, even when businesses are going bankrupt, bars are seemingly filling in at an all-time high. You had to take advantage of the dire situation even if Jaime didn’t like it.

“I can handle my own,” you smirked. “Nana taught me a thing or two,” you winked.

“I bet she did,” he chuckled.

“And besides,” you removed your hands from his grip, smoothing them up his arms until they rested on his biceps. “I have my big strong boyfriend to protect me,” you looked at him finding the blush forming on his face adorable.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as he leaned forward to kiss you. His lips moved against yours slowly, one of your hands moving up to tug on the hair of the nape of his neck.

Living in a small house with five other people gave you no privacy whatsoever, so moments like these were cherished. All those stolen glances, hidden kisses, late-night talks—it all meant something.

“I gotta go, okay? I’ll see you in the morning,” you pulled away.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk to work alone at eleven at night,” he grabbed your arm lightly, pulling you back into his embrace. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven too,” he said and you sighed out contently.

“It means a lot, but don’t you have your job interview tomorrow?” you rested your head against his chest as you both walked out of your and Milagro’s room.

“I’ll sleep, wake up, pick you up, then come back and get ready,” he shrugged and you agreed with his well-thought-out plan.

“Ya te vas, mija?” Rocio asked once you both entered the kitchen and you nodded. “Cuidate, y come tu comida, no quiero que te desmayes,” she handed you a paper sack and you smiled, thanking her.

It was things like that which made you grateful for Jaime’s family—your family. The constant protection and worry they hold over you like one would for a daughter or sister. Making sure you had a lunch packed so you can eat and not faint during your shift. It warmed your heart and made you grateful every day.

“Make sure she gets there safe, okay, Jaime?” Alberto pointed to his son and your boyfriend nodded, reassuring the two.

Walking out of the house, you found your hands intertwined as you made your way down the block. You glanced at Jaime to find him smiling at you before he looked ahead. You grinned at the fact you caught him before you too continued your focus forward.

Palerma City was alive at night, even in the small barrio you lived in. The streets were dark, flickering lamp posts illuminating the people who were still up trying to make a living by whatever means. You looked far past, the bright neon skyline of the city, all the rows of high rises where all the rich white folk were fast asleep tucked away in silk sheets.

You would get there one day.

“What did my mom pack for your lunch?” he asked, pulling you out of your thought.

“A torta de jamon, an apple and orange, some Fritos, and oh, a gansito,” you gasped in excitement before you stuffed the bag in your backpack. “I know exactly what I’m eating first,” you giggled.

“My mom literally said we ran out of gansitos,” he said in shock. “She loves you more than me,” he feigned hurt and you wrapped your arm around him, cooing as you kissed his cheek.

“What can I say? I’m lovable,” you hummed.

The two of you turned the corner and you found yourself at “Margaritaville”, the newest establishment where you got paid minimum wage and received great tips from businessmen who got off on a pretty bartender flirting with them before they made their way home to their wives. Or from people who recently got laid off from their jobs and needed someone to talk to.

Either way, you’d put on your best smile, bat your lashes and make sure your top was low enough if that meant being able to pay part of the rent.

“Be safe, okay?” Jaime pulled you in for a hug. “I’ll be awake at 6:30,” he promised.

“I will,” you mumbled into his neck before pulling away. “See you soon,” you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He cupped your cheek before you pulled away, your fingers pulling along his, straining to stay in touch as you kept moving toward the door until they unlinked, his arm stayed hovered in the air for a split moment while yours dropped to the side. He watched as you turned back and waved until you entered through the back door, making sure to stay for a minute before he turned back around.

The lingering touch of you remained on his fingers until he arrived home and made his way to bed. It wasn’t fair you had to become a main stream of income for the house. It shouldn’t be you pulling in the long hours, it should be him.

He needed to get that interview at Kord Industries tomorrow.

You undid your apron, shoving it back into your backpack. You let out a sigh as you did a once over to the barely empty bar. The next shift already arrived and was taking care of the customers. Letting out a yawn, you placed your tips in your pocket, opening the back door only to be greeted by Jaime who was waiting at the curb.

“Buenos dias, mi amor,” he smiled and you felt your cheeks blush at the pet name he liked to change out every once in a while. “Made you breakfast,” he handed you something rolled in some paper towels before you unveiled two bean burritos. “How was work?” he kissed your cheek while he took your bag from you.

“Made $150 in tips,” you stated, biting into your food. “Getting paid tomorrow, so it went well,” you nodded. “Customers were more to themselves tonight, except for this one guy who was crying about his wife leaving him. I think he left looking for a prostitute to be honest,” you chuckled.

“Poor dude,” he hummed. “But the money is good,” he said, wrapping his arm around you.

The rest of the short walk was made in silence and it was calming to just have Jaime by your side. The eight-hour shift takes it out on you and you couldn’t wait to go to sleep.

“Hola,” you greeted as you walked through the door.

“Como te fue?” Nana asked and you responded to her before a yawn came out.

“Disculpe,” you pressed a hand to your chest. “I’m gonna go shower,” you said, the family understanding as you made your way to your room.

After a quick shower and changing into casual wear, you felt refreshed as you walked back into the family room. The whole family was gathered as Jaime stood in the middle, hair geled back and his fancy clothes put on.

“Wow, que chulo,” you complimented with a bright smile plastered on your face as you stood behind the couch.

“You see, cabezon? You look fine,” Uncle Rudy told his nephew and Jaime nodded in defeat, clearly flustered. “Y/N wouldn’t lie, she loves you too much for that!” he cackled and you joined in, making Jaime blush even more.

“Let’s go and get this over with, I still don’t trust that Jenny girl,” Milagro muttered under her breath and you sent a glance at Jaime.

You were aware of what happened when Milagro and Jaime lost their job with Victoria Kord. Millie was correct to have a distaste for the older lady, but after her niece offered an olive branch, giving Jaime an opportunity–you weren’t sure if she was in the right to have that distrust. But then again, you weren’t there.

“Descansas, okay?” Nana kissed you on the cheek and gave you the blessing before she walked out and you nodded.

The rest of the family walked out, leaving you and Jaime left.

“Good luck, okay?” you grabbed his face and gave him a chaste good luck kiss. “I know you’re gonna woo them over,” you sent him a sure smile.

“How are you so sure about that?” he held your wrists, running his thumbs over your delicate skin.

“Cause, you’re Jaime Reyes”.

“You don’t know what’s inside?” you heard Millie ask.

You were awakened by muffled conversations, your brows furrowing as you checked the time. They couldn’t have come back that soon and if something serious happened, they would’ve woken you up.

About to drift back to sleep, you eyes shot open by shouting. The voices of Jaime, Millie, and Rudy combine together. Bolting out of bed fast, you opened the door and ran into the dining room, finding Millie and Rudy to be playing hot potato with a blue bug, Jaime trying to get them to stop.

“Mira, look what you did! You woke her up,” Rocio gestured to you and the room suddenly got quiet.

“Ay, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jaime winced, trying to grab the thing from Millie but she held it out of his reach.

“Look what Jaime brought back. That Jenny girl is a total floozy, like what is this that she gave him?” she cocked a brow, holding it clearly so you could see.

“A bug?” you rubbed your eyes. “Why would she give you a bug?” you asked, walking closer.

“She told me to guard it with my life, I wasn’t even supposed to open it,” your boyfriend explained and his words made you uneasy.

“I think you should put it back, you don’t know what it can be,” you turned to Millie.

“She’s right,” Jaime held out his hand and Milagro reluctantly agreed, placing it in his palm.

You watched as he was about to place it back in the box until it lit up, his face inching closer to inspect it. You stared back in amazement, the bug coming to life.

“I think it likes me,” he grinned, glancing up at you with a twinkle in your eyes that made your heart skip a beat. But that smile was instantly wiped away the moment the bug launched itself onto his face.

“JAIME!” you screeched, the family shooting up from their seats as they tried to aid him.

“It’s on your face!” Uncle Rudy screamed before he grabbed onto the bug, attempting to rip it off but it shot out a bolt of electricity, sending him across the room and Jaime against the wall.

Your body began to shake and you wanted to run over to help Jaime but he got up, the bug detaching from his face until it crawled over his shoulder and under his shirt like a spider you wanted off immediately.

“Jaime!” you shouted, his body thrashing around the room like he was fighting with the bug. “Baby, please,” you cried, hands over your mouth as you tried to begin to process what was going on but you couldn’t.

“Oh god,” Jaime stilled, hunched over as he looked at you. “I think it’s inside of me,” his gaze filled with panic and you felt your skin crawl. “It’s inside of me!” he screamed, hand reaching out for yours before he doubled over in pain, the bug poking out underneath his clothes before arms pierced through, sending him up against the ceiling.

Another wave of screams sounded, the love of your life’s agony cries being the worst thing you ever heard. The tears were falling down your cheeks. You wanted to help him but couldn’t. You wanted to know what was going on but didn’t. You were completely helpless in this situation.

Black goo grew over his body, his clothes burning to crisps and you were afraid of what it was going to do once it got all of him. Were you about to lose your Jaime? How did you get to this point when it was just a job interview?

“Y/N!” his call for you made your heart stop and you tried telling him you were here but his cries drowned it out.

Suddenly, he was completely transformed, a suit of armor in black and blue engulfed him. The cries and the screams quieted down as you all stared at him. A split second ago, you thought he was going to die, but now he was fine? It didn’t make sense.

“Mijo?” Rocio called out as Jaime walked over to the photo of La Virgen, his illuminating yellow eyes staring back into the reflection.

“What was that?” he looked back in shock, hands over his mouth. “Did you hear that?” his voice was panicked, his expression hidden with the eyes providing just the tiniest amount of concern.

“Jaime, what’s going on?” you took a step forward.

“That voice, you don’t hear a voice?” he walked forward, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all of you. The suit seemed to have turned on, blue light glowing between grooves and you all watched in awe. “Systems check?” he mumbled, looking around the room.

“Jaime?” you asked, noticing the arms powering up.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay!” he shouted just as he was flown through the ceiling before he became a dot in the sky.

Nothing was okay.

Reblogs are the best!

#jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes imagine #jaime reyes #jaime reyes x you #jaime reyes fanfiction #blue beetle #blue beetle 2023 #xolo maridueña

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salaciousdoll · 6 months

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✩˚｡⋆ ⋆ ⋆ Writer’s Big Helper ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡✩

･˳ . ⋆ Performance by Kenpachi Zaraki x Chubby!Fem!reader ･˳ . ⋆

୨୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Be advised to the warnings of smut, kenpachi being a little mean, reader is a fanfic/ book author having a writers block moment, cockwarming, bodily fluid( squirting and cum), Full Nelson position here, kenpachi talks dirty while calling you sweet nicknames, pet names( Angel, runt, little girl used once,etc.), you are in your twenties, kenpachi is older than her obv so age gap!, business man!kenpachi, big dick! Kenpachi, size kink implied( dick wise), fucked dumb, talking you through it, reader has a belly ring, daddy mentioned few times( I think), degradation kink, praise kink, let me know if I missed anything

Wc:1.6k

Minors do not interact, 18+

ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟNote from Salaciousdoll: I enjoyed writing this one because kenpachi has been someone I’ve been wanting to write for a while, especially with the new look he got going on( hair), anyways I hope I did him good here and please enjoy it!! Welcome to day 4 of Salaciousber <33

ﾟ•┈୨ Salaciousber Masterlist ୧┈•ﾟ

ﾟ•┈୨ Salacious Kinktober Taglist ୧┈•ﾟ

You were so stuck when it came to writing the sex scene for your smut. So stuck that you just stared at the phone for a good ten minutes, not hearing Kenpachi call your name over and over again. He was growing angry at how you were ignoring him, so he slid his hand over your stomach and lifted you up with no struggle. You will always be surprised at his strength— it broke you out of your trance.

He plopped down on your cheetah print cushion in your room with your back on his chest, “ is that how you greet your old man, Angel?”

You snapped your head up at him, angling your body a bit to speak to him, “ I’m sorry, Ken’. Didn’t mean to ignore you, it’s just I’m too in my head and overthinking writing this one particular scene in my fic, you know the fics I’ve told you about?”

He hummed in response to your question. The hum solidified yes as an answer and you continued on speaking as he tapped his long fingers on your stomach and thighs. “ I just don’t know what to do and how to execute it well enough.” You waved your hand in a whatever motion, “ Enough about me, how was your day, Ken’? Did you pick a fight with the new intern again? What’s his name ? Icko… Ima—”

He chuckled in a deep tone, “ Ichigo, pretty girl. His name is Ichigo and yes I did, but that’s not what I’m upset about. I’m upset because you’re upset and I don’t like when my Angel is upset, it gets me all angry and dangerous, so how about I make it better for you, help me… help you, Angel?”

You perked up, “ You’re really interested in helping me write, but wait— how are you gonna help me?”, You ask, almost too naive, like you didn’t know what type of man your man was. Get it together. Kenpachi smiled down at you as you gasped at his bulge jumping against your ass.

You were about to turn all the way to him until he grabbed your chin— turning your head forward, “ Ah, Ah, Ah, little runt, you’re gonna cockwarm me until you finish whatever you need to finish for your little story. Hopefully, my cock will give ya’ something to go off on.”

You happily lifted up to let him unzip his pants, afterwards he latched his fingers on the band on your shorts and pulled them down to your ankles. He held out his hand and you spat in it. He trained you so well, he was proud of you, just for that little act of obedience.

He brought his hand to his cock and stroked it, “ if I see you stop typing once, I’m gonna fuck you until you think of a scene to write and you’re gonna tell me every single detail in that scene as I fuck you like my sweet, stupid bunny.”

Your eyes widened and you were about to turn your head to him whilst he pulled your panties to the side, but the snap of his hips to yours cut you off. His dick was buried to a hilt. You threw your head back against his chest and moaned, “ Fu-uhhh-ck. S’too big, too much. Mmmm.”

Kenpachi smirked and smacked your tits with both hands, groping them sequentially. His hands then slid down as your pussy fluttered around his thick cock, you weren’t even down to the base of his cock and yet you still felt filed to the brim.

Your hands shook as you brought your phone up to type for the final big scene of your fic. The smut part. Ironic right? You’re cockwarming someone while writing smut, who would’ve thought. You sure as hell didn’t think anything like this would happen. Nevertheless, you were very glad it’s happening because now you’re writing a scene of a character cockwarming another character in your story. Perfectly. You were using descriptions of how the character was reacting to being wrapped around their spouses cock.

“ Mmmph Kenny, can you help me? Describe how it feels to have me cockwarm you. Like does it feel as -ummph, stop bouncing your legs…”, you moaned as you felt the vibrations of his legs bouncing which made his cock move in and out of you. Kenpachi groaned once he felt your pussy squeeze around his cock with a vicious lock on his cock. Your pussy was a lock, he had to get the key when you first started to fuck or make love with each other. So now he got the key forever. He would never admit it, but he was in love with you and your beautiful pussy. His favorite part about your body apart from your beautiful smile and nose.

Kenpachi grunts and tried to get you to drag your hips up and down prior to answering you, “ fuck! You’re clamping down on me so tightly, ease up for me, that can be a start. You asked me how it feels, yeah? It feels good, great even. Your pussy is warming up my cock like an oven. It feels like a glove wrapping around a cold, icy hand in the winter, only this glove of a pussy is soaking wet. Now that I told you how it feels fucking great with you cockwarming me. Hurry up and finish, so I can fuck you.”

You whimpered at the grip of his hands on the sides of your stomach during the time his large hands were wrapped around your stomach, so basically he was hugging you whilst groping your sides. It took you 15 minutes to finish the last important scene and once you yelled you’re finished loudly and happily as you bounced side to side mixing your juices on his dick as you moved, he groaned loudly in your ear and it almost sounded like a loud growl.

You couldn’t even put your phone down because you suddenly felt your legs lift up to your head and now you were in a full Nelson position with his fat coco still inside of you.

You panicked, “ Wa- wait Ken’. Le-” he moved down the cushion a little and slammed into you from below you. You couldn’t do anything but let out a loud scream because his cock was moving in and out of you so fast. Smacking sounds and pussy sounds was heard around the room as he fucked you in full Nelson.

“ Nuh uh, not waiting when you had me waiting that long. That long for my pussy. You put me through torture little girl, so I’m gonna fuck you until you’re crying and broken.”, Kenpachi says while drilling into your pussy with no mercy. The feeling of the cold air from the window in your room hitting the opening of your pussy adding on to his pounding of your cunt made your eyes roll back to your head like the undertaker.

He was too much and going too fast, but you loved every minute of it. You needed to cum, “ M’need. I need to cum, please daddy. Uhnnn.”

Kenpachi smirked and held your legs tighter and locked both of his hands behind your head still in the full Nelson position, he only quickened his pace and his hips were in rhythm this time. “ Shit! princess, cum for me. Release the knot built up in your stomach and cum on this cock. Wan’ to feel ya’ , want to feel ya juices all over my cock. Ughhh fuck! Think I’m gonna cum as well, darling.”

Your stomach was heaving up and down as your head was watching his cock dip in and out of your pussy with no problem. You release the weighted feeling in your stomach and squirt on his cock. “ Fuck, fuck, fuck, yessss. Oh God! S’good.”

He loved hearing your moans and hearing/ feeling your pussy squirt on his cock so much that he just had to cum inside of your sweet cunt with a loud growl like moan, letting your arms go immediately. Your body was shaking profusely when he came inside you adding more pressure to your g spot and now you're gushing out your fluids and his fluids mixed together. It got so bad that you had to hurry and lift up off his cock, pussy still squirting out both of your fluids as you slowly rubbed your clit to get it all out.

“ Holy shit, Angel. You took it so well, now come here. Shhh. Come here.”, Kenpachi said as he dragged your shaking body back to his chest. You’ve stopped squirting and now you’re laying on his chest with a twitching clit in addition to your pussy convulsing onto air— meanwhile, his cock was under your body jumping and pumping in excitement as some of his cum drip onto the floor.

You felt a tear run down your face and knew you wouldn’t last long tonight. You felt his index finger circle around your belly ring— feeling kisses on your forehead afterwards. His chuckle followed, “ We’re not done yet, Angel. Since I’m not a complete asshole, I’ll let you catch your breath. After you relax and catch your breath, I want you to walk or crawl to the bed, whatever you prefer since I know you can’t walk properly right?” You nodded with your eyes closed, giving him the go to keep talking, “ Then I want you to lay back and open your pretty legs to show me my pretty pussy I'm gonna be abusing tonight, you will do that for your old man right? Wanna see your pretty face as I pound your pussy. Wanna see you scrunch up your face as you struggle to take me. Wanna see you break, pretty Angel.”

Just then, the creeping feeling of excitement was crawling up your spine. You were gonna hate and love tonight. Curse your writing block.

ෆ ̟ ̇ ┈•ﾟ Tagging: @chosoist @honeybleed @angelshub @cuntsize( tagged you because I know how much you love this man), @simpingfor-wakasa and anyone else who wants to be tagged

#kenpachi zaraki #kenpachi x reader #kenpachi smut #kenpachi zaraki smut #bleach fanfiction #bleach smut #bleach x reader #angelshubnetwork #chubby reader #plus size reader #zaraki kenpachi smut #kenpachi x y/n #anime men x reader #anime men #anime smut #black reader #bleach drabble #fem reader #female reader

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imyourbratzdoll · 10 months

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𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚-𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏

hello, my babies! I am so so so sorry for disappearing and for not writing! I keep running into writer's block, especially regarding my requests, as there's an overload of smut in there, and there are only so many times you can write smut, haha. I hope you like what I've written, all thanks to sebastian stan for looking so fine and @lovebittenbyevans for putting the idea of cop sebastian in my mind! I am open to turning this into a small series, kinda like what @navybrat817 does with their fics. inspired by this photo

summary - there's a fundraising event in your small town, and you happen to run into the hottest officer in town.

warning - the word cunt is used, and thoughts of feeling something's hand against their private parts.

the gif and header I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

It was a hot day as you walked toward the fundraising function held at the local park. Your cherry-printed sundress flowed perfectly in the breeze, and your pink glossy plumped lips spread into a soft smile as you passed by your friendly neighbours. You approach your friend's coffee stand, thanking her graciously, as she instantly hands you the cold drink. Your lips immediately wrap around the straw, drinking the liquidity goodness into your mouth.

“Sooo, baby. Did you see Sebastian?!” Your friend whisper-yells, staring at you with wide eyes as though she has some secrets to spill. You shake your head, not knowing that he is here. “Oh my god! You need to see him! If you thought he was hot in his uniform, you’re going to be on the ground when you see his outfit!”

You giggle, shaking your head at your friend’s excitement. “You and every other woman in town are obsessed.” You look through her assortment of snacks she has set out, not wanting to look around for the man you guys are talking about. “How much do you want for the coffee?” You reach into your small pink bag, ready to take out your purse.

“Nothing, it was already paid for before you arrived.” You look at her with furrowed brows, and she smirks at you in response.

“I have a feeling you won’t tell me who.” You squint at her. “Unbelievable.” You shake your head, “Alright, well. I’m going to go look around for a bit.” You lean over and give her a hug before setting off and beginning to look around at the stalls everyone has set up. You hear laughter, and your eyes follow the sound. There stands the police force, all chatting and having a good time. Your breath hitches as your eyes land on Sebastian, one of the hottest officers in your small town. He stands, glistening into the sun with a tan, his body somehow sparkling. Your eyes move down, gulping as you notice his white wife-beater hugging his figure perfectly, how bulky and oversized his biceps look in it. Your gaze moves down, feeling drool in your mouth as you notice his nicely fit slacks. A whimper nearly falls from your lips. The thing that really ties the whole look together is his little man bun.

You hear a cheer, followed by your name being called, and your eyes move around the group until you land on Anthony, his hands waving around, causing the other men to look over, and you give a soft smile. “Y/n! Come over, baby!” You walk over, chuckling as his arms wrap around you and bring you into a hug. “We’ve been looking for you! Well, actually… Ow!” You look up in time to see a can bouncing off Anthony’s head, and he glares at someone. “What the hell, man?! That’s littering!”

You turn your head, feeling your heart pound as your eyes connect with pretty blues. Sebastian smirks, giving you a nod. “Sorry, Bud. Couldn’t have you running your mouth, especially in front of this gorgeous woman.” He winks, and you feel your cheeks heat up. He spreads his arms, raising a brow. “Where’s my hug, Princess?” You slowly move from Anthony’s hold and into Sebastian’s. Your arms wrap around him, and you sink into him. Your eyes flutter closed, feeling your head become fuzzy as you take in his delicious scent. How could he smell and feel so nice? He should be illegal. “I see you received the coffee.” Sebastian pulls back and gives you a smirk, his eyes flicker down to your plump lips, and his tongue flicks out as he imagines what your gloss would taste like against his lips.

“You’re the one who bought this for me?!” You look at him, shocked but not surprised. Sebastian had always managed to pay for your things before you even arrived. He nods before directing his attention to the group, spinning you so your back is against his front and his arms wrap around your waist. Your body heats up, feeling your cunt throb from his actions. “Thank you…” You let out quietly, softly smiling as he leans down and kisses the top of your head in response.

“Damn! You’re wasted being a cop, Stan!” Anthony chuckles, sipping his coffee as he stands with his hand in his pocket.

Sebastian huffs, “And why is that, Mackie?” Anthony smirks, looking between you and Sebastian.

“Because you’re killing all the ladies!” You burst out into a fit of giggles, “So, you would’ve made a great criminal.” Anthony’s brows wiggle, “Sebastian Stan! Killer of Women! He’s the killer that gets away!” His voice booms, and the other officers laugh.

“Hmm, I could get on that. But there’s only one lady that I’d love to kill with my charm.” Sebastian smirks, looking down at you without you noticing. He pulls you flush against his body, enjoying the shivers that run through you. You felt nice in his arms. Your gaze followed his tanned arms and landed on his large, veiny hands, accessorised with rings. Ones that make you wonder what they would feel like against your most sensitive part. You enjoy being this close to him. You could feel the jealous daggers from the women around you, but you didn’t care about them. You were in Officer Stan’s arms, the hottest guy in town.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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abiiors · 5 months

Text

silent treatment 💫 // ross macdonald x reader

a/n: this is not a christmas fic, this is just something that i had in my drafts for like a month now because @the1975attheirverybest sent me a photo of ross' tour bus (the one in the banner) from when she went to the baltimore show and of course i had nasty ideas about it lmao. so yes, here we go--the tour bus fucking fic hehe. i'm still really struggling with writer's block and hate everything i have been writing so this might be a bit shit :/ cw: brat-taming kinda, smut obv, dirty talk??? general nasty behaviour wc: 2.2k

american fans are loud.

well, all fans are loud; it’s not really a bad thing to be, but the american ones are especially loud, you’ve noticed. cheers and shouts and whoops of joy at the airport, and a collective roar that tears through the crowd every time the boys come on stage—it’s all part of the world. his world. your world.

girls shriek and cry wherever he goes, hugging him—their bodies pressed against his, their hands holding his, boldly flirting with him too sometimes. sure, he ignores it and only smiles politely. sure, he only signs their stuff and indulges them for selfies but the burn in your chest remains just the same. dull but prominent.

all in all, he likes america and america likes him. you? maybe not so much.

still, it’s not all hate. it’s fun being on the tour bus and driving through the big wide expanses of the midwest, certainly fun when his hand is buried between your legs and the other muffling your moans. fun to watch your nails digging into his thigh as you chase the high over and over again before falling limp against his chest.

today, however, you skew more towards annoyance.

he’s been so busy, he hasn’t even had the time to look at you properly much less talk to you for longer than ten minutes—what with having to leave one city and go to the other immediately. it’s been hectic and he’s seized the chance to nap whenever he can, just like polly and john who share the bus with you. not that you blame him for it—the exact opposite of it, in fact—you’re grateful for any rest he can get.

but the brattiness rears its ugly head sometimes. and now as you stand there in a corner, watching the instruments being taken out of their truck and brought backstage, you can’t help but bite angrily on the lollipop in your mouth.

ross is on the phone across the room, talking to a friend or a colleague or maybe even family. you don’t know. what you do know is his eyes are trained on you and you alone—rather, on your lips closed around the lollipop, on the sticky residue on your lips. your eyes in turn move to his hand—the one gripping the phone in a vice-like grip, knuckles almost white.

it only takes him another ten seconds to end the call and cross the room. and now here he is—towering over you, looking down at you.

“what’s up with you?”

you shrug, tongue flat against the sweet candy, “nothing.”

“nothing?” his voice is low. mostly to conceal it from the people all around you but also full of warning. so you’ve irked him then… good.

you choose not to answer, giving the lollipop a small lick instead. there’s barely any left now but you plan to enjoy every last bit of it.

“what, don’t wanna talk to me now?”

“me?” you ask, exaggerating the confusion in your voice. testing the boundaries.

“yes, you,” his eyes flash a little, “don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

it’s a dangerous game to play with him, especially the way his pupils dialate every time you swirl your tongue around the last bit of the candy, relishing it thoroughly and letting its sweetness linger on your lips.

ross leans down, mouth directly next to your ear. “you can be a brat all you want, sweet girl. as long as you’re ready for the consequences.”

and before you’ve had the chance to reply, he bends down and closes his mouth around the rest of the lollipop. a loud crunch cuts through the silence. he straightens, smiles like nothing’s out of the ordinary and leaves you holding the now empty white stick.

ross is busy talking to the organisers of a local artists’ collective.

he laughs and chats animatedly and listens to them talking about how much they value this opportunity that the band has created. their voices are loud and boisterous—happy, giddy, excited. a complete contrast to you sulking in the corner, scrolling through tiktok and watching one pointless video after another.

his eyes flick to you once in while, linger on you when matty takes over the conversation. you see the warning in them so clearly. don’t be a baby. don’t pout. but you ignore and double down. if he doesn’t want to give you attention then you’re not going to beg for it. no matter how much you want to pull him into some broom closet and show him exactly what he’s missing.

you cross and uncross your legs and send him a look.

look what you to do me.

he sends one back.

busy. not now.

so you go back to your phone. scroll, a makeup tutorial, scroll, ten must buy amazon things, scroll, movies to watch this winter, scroll— a snap of his fingers breaks through your monotony.

“come share a fag with me.”

you take your sweet time looking and him an deciding if you’re in the mood to smoke, even go so far as to make him ask again.

“well?”

“sure.”

it’s quieter once you’re outside. there’s still the sounds of traffic and a bit of laughter floating out from the inside. somewhere someone’s playing a familiar tune and you watch ross light his cigarette. the fire casts a warm glow on his jaw briefly, on his stubble that’s coming in once again after shaving it off for halloween.

the skin on the inside of your thighs stings from the memory.

“open,” he says and you obey, letting him stick the end of the cigarette between your lips and taking a drag. the smoke burns but with some satisfaction you see the lipstick smudge you left behind.

ross is just taking his own drag when you blow the smoke on his face and shrug when quirks an eyebrow.

“generous of you to take five minutes out of your busy schedule.”

“careful, love,” he warns and lets you take another drag of the cigarette. “don’t be a brat. you know i’m busy.”

“you’re always busy.”

“is that so?”

he looks amused and it riles you up even more. he’s the one that’s supposed to be affected, not you! a beat of silence passes and ross slowly drags his fingers up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“my gorgeous girl,” he says and presses a kiss to your shoulder, moving his mouth to your jaw and then to your collarbone. “are you mad at me?”

“no.”

“no?”

you fight to contain the shiver that passes through you. even when you can feel the little tingles intensifying throughout your body. need swirls through your stomach the more his mouth moves on your neck.

“then what’s this silent treatment for, huh?”

“what silent treatment?”

“oh, baby,” ross tuts and his stubble grazes over the sensitive skin of your neck. “you really wanna play dumb?”

every retort flies out of your brain when he grabs a hold of your hips and pulls you close to him.

“you know what happens to dumb little bunnies, right?”

“y-yes.” it’s almost a whimper that quickly turns into a half moan when his hand rests on the back of your thighs, trailing up and up and up until it’s almost on the curve of your ass.

you yelp when he pinches the skin.

“you want to be fucked that bad, huh?”

and now you finally have him where you want.

“so now you want to be loud,” ross mocks and dives back under your dress.

this torture has lasted for a good ten minutes now. the insides of your thighs already feel raw and chafed. and he hasn’t even properly started yet. he’s still busy marking up the smooth skin of your legs.

“always a good girl when you want something from me, aren’t you?”

you nod fervently, trying to stifle the mewl that’s about to leave your mouth. instead you clutch his head and try to push him where you want. ross is quicker. before you ever know it, his hand it wrapped around your wrists and he pulls back again, looking at you with yet another warning glare.

his hair is a mess, his mouth wet from leaving all those kiss and bites on your skin but it’s his eyes that really get you—pupils blown out so wide that his eyes might as well be black.

“please ross, please,” you whine, shamless and desperate and dying for his mouth to be back on you.

“please what?”

“please make me cum.”

your pout has stopped affecting him a long time ago, even when you look at him with teary eyes and spread your legs wider. the underwear was discarded somewhere the minute you got inside the tour bus and now he has the perfect view of how wet you are. how ready for him.

the inside of the bus feels uncomfortably hot or maybe it’s just your skin that’s sticky and sweaty and in desperate need of his touch.

“no silent treatment anymore?”

“no,” you shake your head, “gonna be a good girl now. please please please.”

“yes, you are.” ross smiles and it feels more sinister than genuine. “i’ll stop what i’m doing if i hear another sound from you, baby.”

“w-what?”

“dumb little slut,” he mocks again, mouth so so close to your clit that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. “don’t want people to walk in on us, do you?”

“no. no!”

“then be quiet for me.”

easy for him to say. because his lips attach around your clit at that exact moment and you bite down on the back of your hand to stop the loud moan from escaping.

“ungrateful, spoiled little brat,” ross tuts, presses his tongue flat against your opening. “look at you now.”

the heady mix of big and small licks makes your head spin, makes you want to cry out his name over and over again but for the sake of your sanity you stay quiet. for each small whimper that still manages to escape you, you feel a small sting on your thigh—a nip or a bite.

“my sweet, filthy girl,” he coos, ghosting his lips over each bruise, each bite and goes back to torturing your cunt.

“ross, can i–oh! can i cum, please!”

“gonna cum for me, already?” he teases and pulls away entirely. “and what if i said no.”

the look you give him is one full of desperation—tears gathered on your lower lashline, bottom lip swollen and red from bitting hard to keep quiet.

“please!”

“no.”

and that’s that, just like that his head is back between your legs, tongue hot on your cunt as his nose pushed into your clit. between trying to stay quiet and trying not to cum you barely have any grip on reality. all you know is how it feels too much, too much pleasure, bordering on pain now. the urge to let go is too strong.

“let me ask you again, baby,” his voice comes through the haze in your mind. barely even audible. “are you done with the silent treatment?”

“y-yes, m’sorry!” you whine, “won’t do it again. wont—”

“look at you…” his condescending tone somehow turns you on even more. the humiliation somehow adds to the pleasure. “ready to be my good girl again?”

“yes, yes!” the buzzing in your ears is so loud now, his voice barely even comes through. all you know is the feeling of his tongue inside you and the stinging of your thighs. the sticky sweat on your skin.

your legs shake from the strain of denying yourself an orgasm, your head swims with too much of everything and nothing all at once.

“go on then,” he speaks. finally. “you can let go now.”

all you manage is a long whine and every single restraint drops. you think you grip his head between your thighs, practically convulsing from the force of the orgasm that hits you, trembling from the way his tongue laps everything up. it’s beyond you how he manages to hold you upright.

you think you scream out his name, practically alerting everyone in a five kilometre radius. you think you pull on his hair and hear him hiss. but ross lets you.

minutes later when he finally stands, his beard and mouth glistens with slick.

“there’s my good girl,” he coos and holds you in his arms.

“look at me,” he coaxes a bit until you manage to open your eyes and look at him properly. despite how fucked he looks, there’s a sweet smile on his face. and his eyes soften when you meet his gaze. “sorry i ignored you before, love. don’t be mad at me.”

“m’not mad at you.” you mumble and every single negative emotion from before melts away within seconds.

“good.” his smile widens, just a touch of mischievous once again. “now that you’ve learned your lesson… let me make it up to you.”

and just like that, he’s back on his knees, diving between your legs once again.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

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inkblot22 · 26 days

Note

(PS I don’t actually know the source material for idia I just stumbled upon one of your fics while looking at FFXIV Yandere fics so sorry if this sounds OOC)

I’m not super creative but what do you think might actually be Idia’ routine with his darling? Does he fall into any routine, does it change a lot?

Have a wonderful day (and happy late bunny day!) 🫶

I actually am of the opinion that this is a very creative thought! You should give yourself more credit. I like to idealize the day to day life, but it never occurred to me that writing it down might be a good idea. On that sentiment, I think maybe Vil or even Leona would have a better day to day routine. Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Also, wow, what a pipeline, FFXIV to twst?? You've got good taste lmao welcome to my blog.

I'll put this under the cut, and I'm also not promising that this will be very good. I use the 24 hour clock. I am constantly getting told irl that American people don't do that, but I'm evil, so I'm putting the times in 24 hour clock format.

TW for mentions of noncon, coercion, captivity, someone keeping someone else awake, a hint of Idia being an asshole

+ Idia doesn't really seem like he has much of a set schedule, but Ortho absolutely does and Ortho is lowkey kind of bossy, so...

+ Yeah uh, Idia's partner is absolutely out of luck. Idia likes night gaming a lot, and he gets loud, so good luck sleeping. Idia himself goes to bed late and wakes up whenever the heck he wakes up. He could go to bed at 0300 in the morning and wake up again at 0700.

+ As his kept partner, the schedule is a little more normal, like I said. Ortho doesn't really need to sleep from what I understand, (I haven't read all of book 6, no spoilers or else I WILL temporarily block you) but it's silly to imagine that he doesn't wake up or attempt to wake up everyone else around him as early as 0600.

+ After waking up, Idia will eat breakfast. I think it'd be delivered usually since Idia and his partner are basement dwellers, one by nature and the other by force. After breakfast begins work...

+ Or procrastination. Idia flip flops between extreme focus on what he should be doing and what he should not be doing. He manages to get his schoolwork done, but more often than not, he's asking his partner to cuddle up and watch a movie, drama, or his fingers flying across the keyboard. Idia will not ask them to cuddle if he is doing schoolwork or virtually attending classes.

+ I like to think that he smells smoky, on account of the flaming hair, and he runs hot, so prepare to SWEAT. In the case his partner doesn't really want to hang out with him, he will usually sulk and only occasionally get upset to the point of doing something about it.

+ I don't think he showers every day. I think he's an every other day type of showerer, based solely on him not being particularly active. This means that his partner doesn't have to run on his showering schedule and gets extra hot water on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

+ By the way, in the case that Idia's darling ever gets peckish, Idia has a snack stash that he proudly pulled out and showed them as soon as they were allowed to wander a bit. I figure they get hungry some time around 1400, especially if Idia is also eating at that time.

+ I think his metabolism is fast, but also a bit odd. He is a young person, and therefore he strikes me as the type to get randomly hungry. If asked very nicely (and with the promise of physical affection in some form) he'd be incredibly willing to make his partner something to munch on when he makes his own.

+ Despite Idia's partner being literally held captive in his room, with all his suspicious items and, worst of all, himself, Idia is about as respectful as a kidnapper can be about demanding sex. He doesn't like to be physically forceful about it, and he often will just jerk off in the bathroom.

+ The reason for this is very simple: If Ortho ever saw Idia having sex with ANYONE, Idia would spontaneously combust. Well, obviously he doesn't know that for certain, but it's a theory that he is not willing to test. He won't even talk about his preferences around his little brother.

+ As far as I'm aware, most people in captive situations do not tend to ask their kidnapper to fuck them unless they're being threatened in some way, but Idia's partner isn't typically being threatened (ignore the shock collar,) so they never ask Idia to have sex.

+ This does not stop Idia from being a whiny bitch about not having sex enough as soon as Ortho is gone for a few hours. The close quarters and sudden advent of a human being who he doesn't mind touching him is a big thing for Idia.

+ Ortho goes on "walks" in a sort of unusual schedule. That is to say that he doesn't have a schedule. If something needs to be picked up, he's tired of Idia not listening to him, he has his own stuff to do, or he just feels like it, Ortho will go out, sharing his location with Idia. From there, Idia will typically calculate how long it'd take Ortho to get back paired with whatever Ortho said he was going to do before he left, and see if he can squeeze in some coerced touching.

+ So. Good luck, Idia's partner. Idia will make a big stink until he gets bored or his partner gives in. His partner usually gives in, based on fear of what he might do alone.

+ Bedtime is somewhat randomized. If Ortho was out, when he comes back and it's any time after 2000, he will very subtly try to get Idia and his partner to start winding down. If both or one ignores him, he'll start getting upset.

+ Like I said, Ortho is kinda bossy. He will nag someone, and the worst part is that he's usually got their best interest in mind.

+On the off chance that Idia decides to go to bed at a decent time, he curls up behind his partner. He runs hot and smells smoky, and at some times it's not the worst thing. Some times.

+ By the way, a lot of this flies out the window in the event that Idia decides to attend classes in person. This is rare, so don't expect it to happen often, but it's not as good as it could be. Ortho goes with him and he locks up any way to reach the outside world, so all his partner has to entertain themselves is his manga collection, or the fun pastime of destruction of property. (This is a very bad idea, and I can expand on punishments later.)

+ In Idia's partner's case, every day is much of the same but just a little different, which makes it hard to keep track of time. The fact that Idia prefers low lighting and no natural light doesn't help this whatsoever.

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holdmytesseract · 9 months

Text

Time To Get A Grip

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: After returning home from a nightshift and finding your boyfriend stoned on the sofa, you lose it. Given the fact that he becomes a father soon, it's time for him to finally get a grip.

Warnings: Major trigger warning here! swear words, mentions of alcohol, drugs and smoking, drug consumption, pregnancy things, drama, a fight, angst, bit of blood, fluff

Gotta rate this story 18+, just in case!

This takes places in the universe where Teddy exists and is pre apocalypse!

Word Count: 3,2k

a/n: You chose and I am here to deliver! 😁 Well... I had this idea - and wrote it. It fitted perfectly into Daryl's, Y/N's and Teddy's story, so... But it's also quite a bit heavy. I never wrote something like this before.

Special thanks to @fictive-sl0th for encouraging me and loving my Daryl fics! Love ya, friend! 💕

Also, I apologise to all the Merle fans. Sorry, guys! 🙈

Tagging: @km-ffluv @stitchintimefan @sweetpeapod @loz-3 @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @fuseburner @hotgirlsshareaccounts @in-this-minute @eddiemunsonsupremecy @mrbrownstne

@iamlokisgloriouspurpose I'm just tagging you here in case you really like to read some of my Daryl stuff. You don't have to, of course. Just wanted to let you know. ☺️

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

Releasing a big yawn; you closed the locker with the number thirteen painted on, and slipped the key - which was attached to a key ring, inside the pocket of your jeans. With a sigh you grabbed your bag and made your way towards the exit of the changing room. "By girls, see you on Monday!" You said goodbye to your coworkers; smiling. They bid their goodbyes as well; waving and smiling.

Taking a deep breath, you left the room and the big building behind yourself and stepped out on the streets of Gainesville; the bright morning sun almost blinding you.

Working as a nurse in a hospital wasn't always easy. Especially the night shift. But working as a nurse in a hospital at night, being almost eighteen weeks pregnant was even less easy - and so very exhausting. As soon as I'm five months in, I'm quitting this shit, you told yourself. Only day shifts from then on. The thing was, you told yourself that already from the start. From the very day you found out you were pregnant. It was a lie which repeated itself month after month. You knew that it wasn't good to work night shift after night shift. Not for you, nor for the baby. But you practically had no other chance. Being alive was expensive. Food was expensive. Having a roof over your head was expensive. Even if it was just a small apartment in one of the endless, old and quite ragged apartment blocks in downtown Gainesville. It was even more expensive, when you are the only one earning the needed money. And soon, you were going to have not only two mouths to feed, but three. Every day you hoped for a change to come - but it wasn't easy. Oh no.

You shook your head slightly and took another deep breath, in order to get yourself out of your thoughts and your sleepy brain to focus.

After you checked your surroundings, you crossed the front yard of the hospital and made your way to the bus station. All you wanted to do now was going home, crash on your bed and sleep at least until late afternoon. Your body wanted that as well. You knew that, of course. Hence, you had almost slept in on the bus and missed your stop! Luckily, your hazy brain reminded you to stand up in the last second.

Waiting until the bus rolled past you, you crossed the street and walked the last meters to the building in which your apartment was. It was just a few blocks down the road. At least the weather is nice today, you thought; looking up into the sky.

You unlocked the old main door, which led into the big staircase and started to climb the steps, leading up to the third floor. On your way, you met a familiar face - unfortunately. "Oh, good morning, Mrs. Jefferson."

Elsie Jefferson. The typical, critical bitter old lady next door, who everybody knew. Husband long dead and owner of at least ten cats. She was utterly nosy and curious about anything and everything. You couldn't stand her since the day she decided to interfere in your affairs. It was your life, not hers - but Mrs. Jefferson didn't care of course. And sometimes, you had the feeling that she did this all on purpose, because she liked you just as little.

"Ah, good morning, Y/N." She had just left her apartment; wearing those old slippers she always wore. A trash bag was in her hand. Apparently, she was just on her way to take out the trash - and you had the perfect timing to run straight into her. Great.

"Coming home from a night shift?" "Mhm, yep." You had absolutely no intention to talk to her, but you also couldn't be so rude to just walk away. The older woman shook her head. "Young lady, young lady... You should stop doing that. Now that you are pregnant." Not that again. "I know, but it's my decision. I'm okay with it. I'm used to it." Mrs. Jefferson shook her head again; rebukingly. You already wanted to walk past her; thinking that the conversation was over - but for her, it wasn't. You should've known. "Does your chaotic mess of a boyfriend still has no job?" You clenched your jaw. You hated it - absolutely hated it, when she brought Daryl up in those stupid conversations. All she wanted was to sting you and throw mud at him - just because he was how he was.

Gritting your jaw, you tried to smile at her. "He's at it." You didn't reveal more. While should you? "So no." She concluded, before stepping closer to you. "Chit... You should get rid of him." "I don't think so, ma'am. He's the father of my child." You tried to argue, but Mrs. Jefferson didn't even listen to you, just continued to speak ill of Daryl. "That man is not good for you and brings nothing but trouble. Just look at his messed-up family! His abusive, alcoholic father! His mother, who was a chain-smoker! And don't get me even started on his brother! Violence, alcohol, drugs... Wasn't he even in the prison only a few years back?" She exclaimed. "Daryl Dixon is toxic, Y/N - and way too old for you... Do you really think he's better than the rest of his family? Do you really think he can change? Turn into a better person?"

Hearing all those foul and judgemental words leaving the older lady's mouth, caused anger and sadness to flow your veins. How dare she? How dare? You had a hard time to keep yourself calm and not snap at her. The raging pregnancy hormones within your body didn't quite help the situation. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath. "Yes, I believe exactly that. I love this man - and that's all that matters. Have a nice day, Mrs. Jefferson." With those words you walked past her; continuing to climb the stairs. But of course, she had one more bombshell to drop on you... "You should've never let him get yourself pregnant. Dixon isn't made to be a father." You ignored her and moved on; mumbling under your breath: "That's what mum said as well..."

You tried to calm yourself down on the rest of the way and erase what just happened from your memories. You didn't have the nerves to deal with that woman. Not today. Not after an exhausting night shift and three times of throwing up in the staff toilets - no.

You climbed the last few steps and headed straight for the quite rickety door, which led into yours - and somehow Daryl's apartment.

Relieved, you closed the door behind yourself. Finally at home. Thank god. Throwing your keys on the small shelf beside the main door, you took off your shoes and jacket. You didn't anticipated Daryl to be home. Not after he had told you Wednesday morning, that he'd go out with his brother. You knew exactly what 'go out' meant. But who were you to stop him? God knows you had tried. Several times. But well... Blood is thicker than water.

Given that fact, you were quite surprised, when you found him in the living room; passed out onto the couch. A smile crossed your face; knowing that he was here - but it faded quickly, when you noticed the condition he was in. Daryl was laying on his stomach; one arm dangling over the edge of the sofa. One sleeve of his yellow-black checkered shirt was ripped off, while the other was still intact. When you squatted down beside him, a wave of cold smoke hit you; coming undoubtedly from his clothes. Daryl's breathing was heavy; sweat dotted his face and presumably his whole body as you noticed further. Some dried, crusty blood was smeared across the skin underneath his nose - and you knew. You knew. You weren't blind. And a nurse. You could tell when somebody was stoned - or well, had been stoned.

It didn't happen often - luckily. It was already enough that Merle made him to consume alcohol way too often. Making him to take drugs was an entirely different story. And you hated Merle for it. Yes, he was strictly spoken family, but the impact he had on his little brother was way too big. The worst part of it was, that Daryl didn't even defend himself.

Seeing your boyfriend in this condition caused the anger, sadness and frustration you had just swallowed down to come up again. Twice as hard. You stood up and crossed your arms; looking down on him.

"Daryl. Wake up." No reaction. "Daryl." You nudged him softly with your knee, earning a low growl. Like already said... You didn't have the nerves to deal with shit like that today. "Daryl fucking Dixon!" You yelled then, causing the man to flinch and immediately wake up. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, huh?!" He groaned again and moved to sit up; pinching the bridge of his nose. His sweat soaked shirt on full display; short blonde-brown hair as messed up as it could be. "What'd ya mean, hon?" He slurred; still trying to wake up properly. "Oh no no, don't pull that card, Daryl. Don't 'hon' me. You know exactly what I'm talking about!"

Your boyfriend rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair, before reddened eyes looked up to meet your Y/E/C ones. "Merle, uh, Merle's got this new, uh, dealer and-" "Forced you to try the 'good stuff', I know." You finished his sentence. "What was it." He didn't answer, just looked at the ground. "That wasn't a question, Daryl. It was a demand. Tell me."��He still didn't talk. You stepped closer and rather harshly pushed his left shoulder. "Tell me! What did you snort?!" Daryl swallowed visibly; once again avoiding eye contact. "Jus' a bit Crystal Meth."

You gasped audibly; jaw dropping. "Crystal Meth? Crystal Meth?! Fucking hell, Daryl! That's one of the most dangerous drugs!" Sure, he wasn't stoned anymore, but undoubtedly dealing with the aftermath. And the drug caused his already quite short fuse to be even shorter. He was more irritable. You noticed. Therefore, he was quickly losing it. "Goddamn, woman! Calm down! It was jus' a little bit! I won't do it again!" He snapped - and you swallowed hard; already needing to suppress the tears. The drugs influenced Daryl and the hormones influenced you.

"I don't care if it was just a tiny bit! I don't care if you say you won't do it again, because you always break this promise! You'll do it again - and we both know it! You'll drink again. You'll smoke again. You'll toke again - and you'll take drugs again. Merle is bad for you! When do you finally realise that?!" "Nah, he's family, Y/N! He's the only one I got left!" You shook your head. He didn't even listen to a word you just said, did he? "That may be true, yes! But he's so far off track - and he's dragging you right with him! You could be so much, more, Daryl... But for that, you need to finally break free!" Your boyfriend clenched his hands into fists; was visibly angered as well. "I won't jus' leave Merle! Ya can't ask me to do tha'!" You frustratingly rolled your eyes. He really didn't understand. "I am not asking you to leave your brother! I told you again and again... I'm asking you to keep a healthy distance! Separate your life and his life! Stop acting so headless!" "'M not actin' headless!" You laughed almost maniacally at his ridiculous words. "Oh hell yes, you do! And you know it! Stop this! I need you to quit acting this way, because-" The anger coursing through your veins got suddenly replaced by fear and desperation.

"'Cause wha'?! Huh?! 'Cause what?!" Daryl's already not properly thinking brain thought even less logical as he spat out that question. "I don't know if it already slipped your notice, but..." You pulled the baggy t-shirt you wore aggressively down, causing the visible outlines of your baby bump to appear. "I'm fucking pregnant, Daryl! With your kid! You're going to be a father in not even six months! Do you even know what that means?! A child comes with great responsibilities! We are talking about a human being we need to look after! A baby isn't like a dog or a cat! I can't have you hanging somewhere around, drunk or stoned! That's reckless - and I thought you were aware of that. Apparently, I was wrong."

Daryl was unfortunately way too deep in his rage to understand. All he saw was red. Literally jumping up from the couch - his symptoms of the drug consumption forgotten for a moment, he took a few threatening steps closer, until he was hovering dangerously over you. "Well... Guess ya shoulda have listened to yer parents, girl... 'N dump me when ya still had the chance to. I told ya from the very beginnin' that this wouldn't work out. Us. This relationship was meant ta fail... But now's too late. Like ya said... Already knocked ya up with that bastard child."

You and Daryl had already quite a few fights in your relationship. That was normal and common. Hurtful and ugly words were sometimes exchanged - but he had never said something like this. It really hurt you. Deep. Despite the fact, that you knew that he probably didn't mean what he had just said. You knew that he was actually happy about this baby. Scared to death, but happy. But it hurt. So freaking much.

You just stared at him, while tears started to trickle down your cheeks. "Go." Your voice was merely above a whisper, but your eyes told Daryl enough to realise, what he had just done. "Y/N, I-" "Leave." "Y/N-" "I told you to go!" You yelled, pushing him away from you. "Get out of my sight, before I do something I might regret!" Daryl grunted and ripped the other sleeve of his shirt off, before he walked to the door; "Fine! If ya want me ta go, I'll go!" and slammed it shut behind himself. Mere seconds later, you broke down crying.

(DIVIDER)

You were exhausted. So utterly exhausted - and yet sleep didn't find you. You laid awake, hour after hour; thinking about what had happened - and the possible consequences of it. Your brain just couldn't shut up and so you spent the rest of the day and even night with just staring at the wall or ceiling and crying. Sure, you could sleep a few hours, but it was not peaceful and certainly not restful. Anyways... It was way too less sleep, given the fact that you had a night shift behind yourself and were pregnant. Needless to say, you couldn't be any happier about the fact that Sunday was your day off.

In the early morning hours, you heard the sound of your doorbell ringing. Cursing under your breath, you stood up and walked to the door. You had just been on the verge of dozing off again...

You already suspected that it was Mrs. Jefferson, one of your neighbours - or hence, even the postman, but you certainly didn't expect Daryl to stand in front of your door. Honestly, you expected anyone, but him. He never came back that fast after a fight. Never.

Well... Until now.

"Daryl?" You asked; totally stunned and also a bit confused. "What are you doing here?" He had both his hands stuffed into the pockets of his slightly ripped, grey jeans. A fresh tank top covered his body; not that ragged shirt anymore - and he had visibly showered. The man leaned against the door frame; biting his bottom lip nervously - a habit.

"I really fucked it up, didn't I?" "Yes. Yes, you did," you confirmed without even blinking. Daryl swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "'M sorry." You looked him in the eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "You always say that. I always believe you. And you always fuck it up again." You paused; trying to find the right words. "I love you, Daryl - but honestly, I don't know how long I am able to play this game." He swallowed hard; the harsh realisation of the possibility to lose you - and with that his child hitting him full force. "Y/N, I... I know. 'M an asshole. Always was. Most likely always going ta be. I don deserve you. And certainly not yer love - but please... Give me one last chance. Us." He sighed; desperately. Words weren't his strengths. "Fuck's sake, I can't live without ya. I need ya. You know that."

Now you were the one who had to swallow hard. Tears stung in your eyes; as you tried to figure out what to say. Yes, you were still angry at him for what he did - for what he said, but on the other hand... You loved this idiot so fucking much. Perhaps even too much for your own good. Not that you cared, though.

"Yes. And I need you, Daryl..." Your raging hormones caused your walls to break. "You're all I've got. I chose you above my family. I gave up my entire life for you. Please don't let this be for nothing. Please hold your promise this time." You choked out; tears staining the fabric of your sleep shirt. "Look for a job; get some distance between your life and Merle's life - and, for our child's sake, get a grip. There's not much time left for you to turn the tide." You took a shaky breath and cupped your baby bump. "I can't do this without you..."

Daryl nodded; his expression soft and full of love - and regret. "I know. I know." He stepped inside your apartment; closed the door and approached you, before he shyly - almost hesitantly placed his bigger hands on top of yours. "'M sorry. 'M so sorry. For what I did - 'n especially for what I said. I didn't mean it. I love that kid. Ya know I do. 'N I promise I'll try ta be a better man. For you and the baby."

You only nodded; unable to speak because of all the tears you shed. He leaned forward; pressed a kiss onto your forehead - and that was the moment you entirely caved. You threw your arms around his neck and hugged his body. Daryl accepted the hug, of course; placed both his hands on your hips and held you.

After a while, Daryl bent his knees and quickly swept you off your feet - much to your surprise, before he carried you into your bedroom. He set you down on the bed, quickly stripped off his top and jeans and joined you; wrapping you up in the tightest snuggle possible. It was almost like he sensed how tired and worn out you were. "Sleep, hon. 'M here. I won't go anywhere." You smiled tiredly up at him and couldn't resist the urge to kiss him. So, you did. "I love you." "I love ya, too."

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #pre apocalypse!daryl dixon

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maximotts · 1 year

Text

𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢; 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble and it turned into a very long part of my originally planned Christmas fic. sOOO.. you're welcome (and yes I did co-opt Wanda and Vision's thing at the beginning because I can and I wanted to)

request: @wandasdolly; okay so hear me out… festive wandanat sex by the fireplace… and there’s blankets and wine and probably christmas music playing and i am just being horny anyway bye😁

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

wc: 4.2k

summary: Private Hire: Origins AU; This is an 18+ only work, minors DNI; smut, fluff; cozy and romantic living room sex, fingering, oral, cum strap because I'm a feral homosexual, Natasha has two wolves inside her: one that's horny for Wanda and the other that's disgustingly in love with her, cuddly aftercare and a lot of feelings at the end because this is me and well, I've been wanting to write this for a long time

private hire au. || main masterlist.

"Wanda, darling..."

"Natasha, sweetheart?" Wanda struggled to keep her weight on just one arm, her other bent to keep her glass of wine upright. She'd been in the middle of taking another sip when Natasha leaned in to kiss her cheek, cutting her drink short to replace cool glass with her lips. "What are you doing?"

The redhead chuckled against her skin, leaving lipstick marks along Wanda's jaw as she continued her trek. "You're a smart girl. What do you think I'm doing?"

Elegant piano versions of classic Christmas songs played low in the background, Natasha having insisted on pulling out her records for the living room scene she'd set. Thick blankets laid over the carpeted floor, fire crackling over wooden logs nestled in their large fireplace, Natasha surprised Wanda with a cozy night alone for the holidays. It was a sweet gesture for the typically stoic one of the pair, the kind of thing Wanda loved more than anything especially during her favorite time of year.

"If I had to guess, I'd say you're up to something..." As Wanda spoke, Natasha pressed forward, kissing down her neck as she turned it to the side and allowed her further access. The moment she felt her girlfriend's hands on her hips, she expected some kind of removal of her silk pajama top, but it never came.

Instead, when Nat's mouth reached the last bits of exposed skin over her sternum, they traveled over the fabric and nuzzled into Wanda's chest where she always felt most safe and secure. "You should set your wine down before you spill it."

Wanda looked down then, raising a confused brow to the woman too preoccupied with reverently kissing the swells of her breasts to notice being watched. "I'm not going to spill- oh..."

The glass met the stone fire hearth with a hard clank, Wanda's hand shaky as Natasha's lips wrapped around a covered nipple. Both arms had to support her now, Nat tugging her closer and leaving her at a somewhat awkward angle- it was hard to care while her girlfriend licked over the semi-hard bud. Both of them knew how sensitive she was, Natasha exploiting it at every turn when she needed Wanda breathless and pliable as quickly as possible, but this was different.

This was slow, careful, tongue rolling over her in a teasing promise of what was to come before she switched to the other, not wanting to neglect any part of Wanda. "You're going to ruin my shirt..."

"They're pajamas, you'll get over it." She'd been bouncing around for weeks arranging everything —buying this house to get away from bustling city streets, the type of home Wanda sighed over whenever they drove by, giving explicit instructions to not be disturbed unless someone was dying of in danger of it— all of this for Wanda's Christmas gift. Nothing was going to get in the way of Natasha making the most of their time together.

And so only when Wanda began to whine, needing more after being wound up painfully slowly, did Natasha guide the brunette to lay back. She undid the row of tiny buttons blocking her top half from view before sliding matching bottoms down to her ankles, calloused fingers dragging down skin so soft Natasha felt blessed to touch it. Wanda kicked the pants off herself, moved to rid herself of her underwear, the last piece of clothing that kept her from being fully exposed, but Natasha stopped her.

She sat back on her knees to get a good look at her, long hair splayed out atop the quilt where Wanda lay prone, wide green eyes a little hazy from the alcohol, but playful nonetheless as she smiled up at Natasha; she swore she felt her heart leap. Maybe she paused too long because manicured fingernails dug into Natasha's thighs, Wanda having grown impatient, "What are you staring at?"

"You," Natasha said without hesitation, tracing the shadows the fire made over Wanda's abdomen with her pointer finger, "You're beautiful and I don't think I tell you that enough." Wanda blushed a deep pink and went to shake her head, but Nat was quick to hold her chin still and force her to take the compliment. "You're beautiful and I love you and I need you to remember that."

Wanda could've made some snarky remark about how dramatic Natasha was being, how she didn't have to say that stuff just to get in her pants, but the words she heard choked her up. Manipulative as she could be, Natasha would never lie to Wanda, not about that, and in the short seconds she managed to make eye contact with the woman above her, Wanda saw only sincerity in her loving gaze. "Show me."

Natasha closed the distance quickly, kissing Wanda until she was breathless and nearly lightheaded. When she descended this time it was with teeth scraped over her collarbone and nibbles that were sure to leave a mark. Pointedly ignoring Wanda's breasts until an insistent hand pulled her by her hair to them, Natasha bit down harder than she needed to, the brunette squeaking and squirming as Nat soothed the blossoming red bruise with a series of apologetic licks. "I'll be wearing turtlenecks until that goes away, Nat."

"It's winter anyways, too cold to show off." She was content to let Wanda rock against her thigh while she played, sucking and licking each nipple and rolling whichever one she couldn't have in her mouth with her fingers, always a game to see how fast Natasha could make her cum just like that. But today was for more than that and as Nat's free hand dipped lower, snapping the sides of Wanda's panties against her hips, she couldn't bring herself to be too disappointed hanging up her mischievous hat for one night.

Pushing insistent hips to still on the ground, curious fingers dipped between Wanda's legs and found a sizable spot on that last piece of her clothing; a telltale sign of her arousal. "You're so wet, baby. Is that all for me? Because I made you dinner and got your favorite wine, or did I play with your tits so much you're already close to cumming?"

Wanda hated and loved when Natasha called attention to her like so; hated for how cocky her girlfriend got no matter what her response and loved for the way that kind of talk tightened that coil in her belly, a true double-edged sword. Keeping her ego in check was a 24/7 job, but Wanda had to admit it was kind of cute to see Natasha so visibly proud of herself. "Both, now touch me before I do it myself and make you watch."

"Oh honey," Natasha cooed, easily moving the thin lace to the side and sliding two fingers along Wanda's folds, "you know you'd only be begging me to do it for you the entire time."

Confident fingertips toyed with Wanda's clit, moving in time with the ones still firmly at her chest, Nat grinning wide while Wanda's back arched involuntarily and she cried out, her first orgasm a sudden and unplanned surprise.

As her head swam, Wanda recalled the short video she'd sent Natasha just a few days prior, motivation to come home after she'd gotten word the older woman was held up and would be back later than planned. In it, she'd fucked herself on her newest vibrator, a toy she knew Natasha was itching to see Wanda use— she didn't realize she'd called out Natasha's name until after she pressed the send button. Soft and desperate, pleading for her girlfriend and her help on pure instinct... Natasha wasn't going to let that go unnoticed.

In this particular instance, the shock of it all left Wanda's mouth open in a silent scream; gorgeous as she was, Natasha wanted to hear her name again. Thankfully she was far from done.

Wanda's underwear joined her pants in a heap next to them before Natasha kissed her way back up the expanse of Wanda's bare legs, holding them apart to selfishly drink in the sinful sight of her lover spread open just for her. "Have I mentioned how pretty you are, Wands?"

The girl only rolled her eyes, brushing off her gawking to tug at Natasha who was still fully clothed. "I want to see you too."

She wasn't shy about her body, Wanda having seen it countless times over the few years they've known one another, but she never failed to be surprised when Wanda asked. Before her and even at the beginning of her, the sex she had was quick and detached, clothes askew and shoved aside to get to the point; when Wanda demanded more from her, Natasha was too head over heels to deny the request.

Especially on nights such as these where she focused on Wanda alone, she never liked to be the only one naked and so Natasha obliged, shedding her pajama shirt and letting her girlfriend's hands roam at will. Wanda sat up then, taking her turn to kiss every inch of skin she could reach, fingertips lovingly skirting over every cut and scar Natasha sustained over the years. "I think you're plenty beautiful yourself, you know."

She knew Natasha wouldn't let it last long, not when a brush between her legs revealed the thick strap on set firmly in place on her hips, but the brevity didn't stop Wanda from wanting to show what appreciation she could anyways. "And this is for me, I'm assuming."

"Depends, do you want it to be?" Natasha rocked against Wanda's as she rubbed over the fake cock, the textured base of the toy perfect for giving some much needed attention to her neglected sex. She rarely talked about how much it turned her on just to make Wanda fall apart, but honestly, it made her insatiable. Even getting to watch the display she doubted Wanda knew she was putting on, wiggling against the blankets as she palmed her strap with such anticipation she had to bite her lip to keep from immediately asking for it... Nat could've cum on the spot.

Wanda's hand stilled, bringing her eyes back up to meet Natasha's, mirthful expression so cute the redhead fought the urge to pinch her cheeks, "I thought you hated dumb questions."

Natasha laughed at that, reluctantly pulling Wanda away and pushing her back once more so that she could rid herself of her own pants before leaning over Wanda until their chests were pressed together, "It's not a dumb question if I'm asking. Do you want it?"

She rolled her pelvis against Wanda's slowly, deliberately sliding the strap on against Wanda's wet folds as she fought to keep still. Wanda knew what she was doing and it wasn't fair, forcing Wanda to beg for something on what was supposed to be a romantic night where Natasha usually gave without asking— it wasn't a habit her girlfriend could kick easily. "Yes..."

"Yes what?" Nat took that sweet pressure away and replaced it with her fingers, pushing one digit past her entrance without warning. It didn't hurt, but Wanda whimpered anyways, the sudden intrusion catching her off guard. A second finger joined the first soon after, steadily stretching Wanda until she was ready to speak her wishes. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you, whatever it is."

"I-I..." Forming sentences was hard when two fingers were fucking her open, fast and rough even as Natasha's words stayed even-paced and calm. It was too much and not enough, even as those devious fingers curled, hitting that one spot that drove Wanda to madness. She didn't want to be so close again, not without her girlfriend's strap buried deep inside her; all she had to do was say it. "I want you to fuck me! Nat, please, I'm gonna-!"

"You're gonna what? Cum again?" Wanda nodded, desperately trying to stave off her impending orgasm, but Natasha never let up. When the girl's mewling gave away her stubbornness, Nat cradled her flushed cheek in her hand, thumb running over kiss-swollen lips. "Let go for me, sweet thing. Let me see you cum just like this and I'll give you what you really want."

It was only a few seconds longer that she lasted, arms drawn tight around Natasha's neck as she rode out her orgasm. This one was stronger than the last, longer and fuller, and Wanda was glad to already be laid out where her muscles could safely give way.

As soon as Nat's fingers pulled out, her strap pushed in, thicker than her digits and inching ever deeper until her lover bottomed out with a low grunt. "Shit, Wanda..."

Long legs wound around Natasha's waist as Wanda adjusted to the stretch, both keeping her close as she could and giving her girlfriend a better angle to grind against the toy's base, willing to endure the temporary discomfort if it meant hearing more of Nat's swears and the occasional praises that came with them. "Tasha... fuck me."

Gentle command as it was, Natasha moved, slow at first until she could go without resistance, finding just the right pace as she left messy kisses down Wanda's throat. "This what you wanted?"

"Again with the dumb questions," Wanda bypassed a real response in favor of pulling the redhead closer, dragging red lines down her back with blunt fingernails as Natasha hit the perfect angle. It felt so right, like everything did when it was with her; the singular person Wanda trusted to see her at her most vulnerable. "Right there, don't stop!"

"Here?" Natasha accented her question with a particularly hard thrust, Wanda's exaggerated groan immediately giving her her answer. A few more pointed movements of her hips and Wanda might have well been a puddle on the floor, babbling any number of incoherent pleas Natasha could only just make out as Sokovian.

"What's the matter, Wanda, can’t talk straight with your pussy stuffed full of my cock? Poor baby.” She couldn't help but play into it, to drive her further into the subspace that was for Natasha's eyes only. Wanda looked like she wanted to say something back, probably some half-hearted distaste for Natasha’s vulgarity, but she couldn’t pretend not to love it. Not when the same woman tugged her hips upwards to keep hitting that same spot now threatening to make her drool, her eyes rolling back into her head as she mumbled and reached for Natasha.

On her third orgasm, she was terribly sensitive and didn't have a hope of lasting long even if she tried. Natasha drew it out as long as she could, working her way to her own climax right along with the woman below. Wanda preferred it that way, always wanting to share her ecstasy with the person she loved most; it was sweetest to her watching the same pleasure she felt wash over her lover at the same time. “Fuck, Wanda, you feel amazing.. I’m so close..”

Natasha’s head dropped into the crook of Wanda’s neck and she was quick to bury her fingers in thick red locks, uncaring of how hard she pulled as she neared her end once more. “Cum with me Tasha, please, please-!”

Their joined climax was a flurry of kisses and sighs, Wanda clinging to Natasha for dear life as a gush of liquid slipped deep inside her, some added thing to her girlfriend’s new toy that only added to the fullness she felt. Natasha’s hips had yet to still, rutting into Wanda for as long as her orgasm let her. When she did come down, she held tight to Wanda, squeezing her limp form and kissing her shoulder until the other woman protested her suffocation. “Sorry…”

When Wanda opened her eyes it was to Natasha’s shy smile and she giggled, granting her a quick peck on the nose before Nat pulled back. “You’re quite cute when you’re clingy.”

“I’m not cute.” Natasha sat back on her knees, lazy eyes dropping from Wanda’s exhausted gaze to where she was now glistening in the firelight, a mixture of her arousal and the toy’s lubricant dripping from her abused entrance. She was gathering it on her fingers without a second thought, moaning as she pushed it back in and slowly let her digits drift back inside. Nat studied Wanda as she toyed with her, checking for signs of discomfort or even pain; when none came, she figured she might as well ask for the one thing she wanted. “Can I taste you, my love? I’ll be quick.”

Wanda nodded, her eyes already falling closed again, “Be gentle.” It was an easy enough request to abide by and Nat laid kisses down Wanda’s abdomen as a thank you, soft and adoring little things over her lower belly, willing her girlfriend to relax when her lips finally reached the top of her mound. She was flat on her stomach now, inspecting Wanda up close to commit the sight to memory— Natasha would spend all night filling Wanda up just to watch it seep out and fuck it back in again if she’d let her, but that was for some other time.

Her tongue was careful as it licked over her hole, mindful of Wanda’s shivers and quivering thighs, but she tasted divine and soon enough Natasha was taking every bit of her she could get. “You’re always so good for me, Wanda, so perfect…”

The only response she received was a pleased hum, a sound made comfortably enough that Natasha continued on in stride, turning her attention to Wanda’s swollen clit. Loving sets of kitten licks left Wanda’s hips stuttering, Natasha wrapping her lips around it and sucking only because she knew when she let up there’d be a fresh pool of wetness waiting for her. She continued her little cycle until Wanda weakly pushed her away with a strained whine, “Too sensitive, hurts…”

Instantly worried, Natasha was off in a flash, giving the exhausted woman a thorough once over. She’d been so careful, but even so, if she’d done something harmful, she’d never forgive herself. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly okay, Nat.” Wanda shook her head, running her hands over her girlfriend’s thighs to reassure her now frantic state. “Don’t overreact, I’m fine. Barely awake, but I feel great.” Nat breathed an audible sigh of relief, but kept her distance, giving Wanda the space she hated having after sex. Her outstretched arms reminded Natasha yet again how much of a cuddler her partner was, another activity she only ever indulged when it came to Wanda.

She scooped her up along with a blanket, wrapping Wanda in a warm bundle before letting her lay on her chest; the brunette’s favorite way to be held when she was tired and reorienting herself. Rarely did she say anything which was more than fine for the other woman who tended to exist in silence unless prompted, but something about tonight compelled Natasha to speak up. “I love you.”

“Yes, I know,” Wanda chuckled, giving Natasha a quick squeeze as she sleepily watched the dimming fire. Nat took her hand though, catching her attention as she played with it in her own. All day her partner had been so… odd; not in any way Wanda could complain about with the gift of this house, dinner, and everything else, but she had to admit it was completely out of character. “I love you too.”

“No, I…” She felt stupid even trying to say it, having shown it as best she could and most likely doing more than enough to prove her point, but the truest words were always the hardest ones for Natasha to convey. “I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you that it makes me feel like an idiot.”

“You’re being a little silly, sweetheart. We should probably go to bed-” A kiss cut Wanda off, bold and full of a strange uncertainty that caught her off guard. She could still taste herself on Natasha’s lips from earlier and as she was pulled impossibly closer, Wanda feared her spine would break if the arms around her held any tighter.

Nat gave her just enough space, her forehead pressed against Wanda’s as their heavy breaths mingled. “Marry me.”

Wanda’s once half lidded eyes flew open, scooting back from Natasha to stare at her in disbelief. She’d been with her girlfriend long enough to know when she was joking; Wanda didn’t know if it scared her more not to see any evidence of that in her or not. “Natalia, don’t…”

“Don’t do that, don’t pull away. I mean it!” There was no point in being on one knee when they were both sat on the ground so Natasha just shuffled closer, taking Wanda’s hand back and holding it in her own shaky ones. “I want to live in this house here, with you, and come back here every night to call this our home. I never want to think about having another Christmas without you right by my side or any other holiday that in all honesty, I think are stupid, but you love. I want to see your face light up when I surprise you and kill whatever makes you cry. Hell, I even like cuddling now when it means holding you. I want you to marry me.”

She didn’t know what to say, effectively stunned into silence at Natasha’s confession. In all the ways Wanda imagined a proposal as a little girl, it was never naked in a blanket on the floor of some American home in New York, being asked by a woman who she loved as much as she butt heads with. Far from her wildest dreams, but Wanda had long stopped having those. “Ask me.”

“What?” Pleased as she was Wanda didn’t yell or bolt from the room as she’s been known to do, her response wasn’t the enthusiastic yes Natasha hoped for.

“You said you want to marry me, so ask me.” Wanda stared at Natasha blankly, expectantly until the other woman got the hint. Her instinct was to roll her eyes, remark that Wanda couldn’t ever just take a gesture for what it was, no, she had to be difficult about it; she knew this about her and none of it made Natasha want her any less.

And so she straightened up, holding Wanda’s hand firmly now, and asked the question Wanda thought she’d never hear. “I’ve said it a thousand times today, but I’ll say it a thousand more if you ask me to: I love you. So much so that I’m asking you to marry me without buying you a ring because I couldn’t bear one more day without knowing you’ll be mine for the rest of our lives. We fight sometimes and we’re both so stubborn, I’m sure we’ll never stop having our disagreements, but you’ll also never stop being the only person I trust with everything I have. I’m not good with the words that actually matter and you know that so please don’t make me do this again; will you marry me, Wanda Maximoff?”

Wanda didn’t like crying, hated when it happened and even more so when Natasha was around to see it, but this time she’d caused it and Wanda was too overwhelmed with emotion to hold back her sob. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

She flung herself back into Natasha’s arms, a sweaty mess of tears and the smell of sex, but Nat caught her anyways, rubbing her back as Wanda cried. Unfortunately, Natasha hadn’t thought through how emotional Wanda tended to get; she’d barely bargained for her own stumbling before opening her mouth. “You’re too tired to be crying like this, you’ll pass out.”

“You’d take care of me,” Wanda mumbled, curling into Natasha’s lap as she tried to settle herself down. It took a while, longer because the brunette refused to quit kissing her new fiancee to properly catch her breath. When she finally did, her wide smile was still plastered on her face and Natasha found it contagious, a similar expression stuck on her own mouth. “That was quite an adorable proposal, Miss Romanoff.”

Natasha raised a brow, wiping the last remnants of tears from Wanda’s pink cheeks with a disgruntled huff, “If you tell anyone about that, I’ll make sure they can’t speak a word of it to anyone else.”

“Does that include-”

“That especially includes Sam. Not a word or I’m taking my proposal back.” Wanda laughed, not believing a single thing that came out of her grumpy wife-to-be’s mouth. Natasha was so protective of her steel-cut persona, so few people heard anything different and even fewer actually saw it. Wanda, on the other hand, loved spilling secrets to their friends and more than once, Natasha caught herself being the topic of conversation; they never let her live those moments down. “Not a single word, I mean it. I bet I can sell this house too.”

#wandanat #wandanat fanfiction #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat fic #wanda maximoff fic #natasha romanoff fic #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #wandanat au #private hire au #marvel fanfic #motts writes.#maximotts

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danaewrites · 2 months

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Helmet Over Heels

part ii: metal man with a backup plan

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 6.4k

summary: When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives.

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

i think this fic set a writing record for me lol (10.2k words in two weeks? with a regular posting schedule?! unheard of!) many more chapters to come... i have so much planned for these two <3

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii coming soon!

You didn’t see the Mandalorian again for weeks.

You weren’t missing him, exactly. Sure, the droning noise of your coworkers’ voices seemed just a bit more dull in comparison to the baby’s sweet giggles, and Maker knew none of your regulars were ever up for lively banter, but rule number one in this galaxy was to never get too attached. Especially to mysterious strangers who left quicker than you could say ‘mudscuffer’ and more likely than not would stay gone. Despite knowing that, your foolish imagination hadn’t received the memo, and you kept finding yourself wondering what the beskar-plated man and his tiny son were doing somewhere out there in space. His ship must have been fixed, since you hadn’t seen any unfamiliar spacecraft when you strolled past Sanna’s shop the other day. In a temporary moment of weakness, you wished you knew what it looked like so you could casually fish for information about it from off-planet travelers at the cantina. Then again, asking questions could bring unwanted attention to the odd pair, so perhaps it was better for all of you that your curiosities remained unsolved.

You’d woken up the morning after the storm to an empty cantina with every doorway blocked by two metres of snow. You weren’t sure how he’d managed to get out without disturbing the squeaky hinges of the shutters, but the Mandalorian had left the place completely untouched except for the bag of credits–far heavier than you deserved– on the bar. Your eyes had widened to the size of the two empty soup bowls next to it when you counted how much was in the pouch. Kriff, what sort of cosmic royalty was he, with this much money to spare on a cantina waitress? You remembered the bright glint of his armor in the moonlight, belatedly recognizing the characteristic sign of pure-cast metal. Beskar alloys were far from cheap, but pure beskar? If you had so much as a thimble-sized piece of it, you could afford passage off this planet fifteen times over. You huffed out a breath, shaking your head with a tiny smile. Well, that meant that he definitely still had enough saved to take care of the kid after his not-so-small gift, so you grudgingly allowed yourself to enjoy having a few extra credits for once.

The credits he’d left you weren’t enough to buy a ride off-world, but they’d pay for this month’s heating bill and a nicer set of clothes while you put the rest of your paycheck towards a future ticket. The extra money emboldened you to go shopping for the first time since you arrived on Nath– which was why you were currently weaving through the narrow streets of the Solstice Market, hoping to find a decent textile shop amongst the booths that lined this alley. You brushed past the promenade of young couples holding hands despite the cold (as well as significantly more haggard-looking spouses holding pouty children), awed by how the bright colours and loud haggling around you seemed to brighten Nath’s dreary atmosphere for a moment.

Your steps slowed to an abrupt stop as you heard a quiet chiming coming from your left. You turned to see a pocket-sized holospeaker sitting on a rickety display table, shaped like a mildly deformed egg and covered in twisting silver filigree. The booth worker looked hopeful as you eyed the far more impressive–and expensive–metalworks arranged in front of the small item, but quickly slumped back to dazed boredom as your fingers traced the rounded object instead. The speaker was dented and each note vibrated for slightly too long, but the melody it produced reminded you of the Odalian lullabies your mother had sung to you as a child. Stars, you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed her voice, soothing you with ballads of true love and tragedy until you fell asleep with the stories etched into your dreams. You blinked back the water that threatened to fill your eyes as you hummed along to the soft music, love and grief welling up between your ribs with a gentle ache.

That was how the Mandalorian found you– eyes half-closed, your head gently bent toward the tiny instrument. You were so lost in your memories that you didn’t register his awkward presence until a tiny green hand poked your side. You gasped, instincts learned from years of working in a rowdy cantina kicking in as you reflexively threw a punch at the offending party. The Mandalorian immediately shifted to shield the giggling child, a move that was good for the kid’s health but rather unfortunate for your knuckles.

“Kriff, metal man, you could’ve said something,” you wheezed out, rubbing your throbbing hand where it’d met unforgiving beskar. The kid gurgled happily up at you from his position in the bag. Apparently, your newest injury was the most amusing thing he’d seen all day.

You pouted exaggeratedly at him, reaching to ruffle the wiry hair that floated above his floppy ears with affection. “Sorry about that, bug. Didn’t think I’d see you again,” you spoke softly, giving his very shiny father a subtle once-over in the daylight. The Mandalorian was taller and broader than you’d remembered from that dark night in the cantina– something that definitely did not cause your stomach to twist with interest. His armor appeared to have been polished sometime recently, and you stole a moment to admire the pride with which he wore the gleaming beskar. The effort he’d put in to maintain the parts of his appearance that were visible to the outside world was obvious (and strangely attractive, if you were being honest.) You briefly wondered whether he was as well-kept underneath the armor, but realized your mistake when that question brought a whole host of dangerous ideas to mind. Stars, why did you continually do this to yourself? You immediately shoved any daydreams of what he might look like behind that helmet somewhere far, far away lest a traitorous flush reappear on your cheeks.

“I need to talk to you,” the Mandalorian in question stated, distracting you from your quickly-spiraling thoughts. You glanced up at him inquisitively but allowed him to steer you away from the busy crowds.

“Nice to see you, too,” you grumbled once you had reached a reasonable distance away from the market. “What happened to hello, how are you, sorry I left and didn’t even leave a note saying how I got past the shutter locks.”

The Mandalorian turned to face you, cocking his head. “I left you the credits, didn’t I?”

You opened your mouth, retort poised on the tip of your tongue, but then thought better of it. Probably not a good idea to risk the generosity that brought you to this market in the first place. “Okay, you win that one.”

The Mandalorian ignored your rare moment of surrender, rolling his shoulders back and stepping closer to you in a fluid movement that had more of an effect on you than you wanted to admit. “I need you to look after the kid.”

O-kayy then. Straight to business.

“I have a job here, I can’t take him with me– it's too dangerous.”

“A job?” Your brows furrowed as you considered what work he could possibly be doing here. People here either worked in the ice fishing huts or in one of Nath’s many depressingly ugly oil processing factories, and neither of those occupations seemed right for the intimidating man in front of you. You crossed your arms, only partially teasing. “You mean you have things to do besides scaring innocent waitresses half-out of their skin?”

The Mandalorian scanned the area around you, then subtly pulled a small metal object out of the leather holster slung around his hips. You leaned over to see the unmistakable blinking red light of a tracking fob resting in the palm of his dark glove.

Oh. That explained the money, then. Bounty hunting— through the Guild, if the emblem on the device was anything to go by— had shot up in popularity after the Empire fell and the New Republic needed good mercenaries to capture the remaining Imperial loyalists. You’d bet a decent amount of credits that this hunter wouldn’t balk at capturing a few Imps, with the way he’d spat out the name of the Empire as if it poisoned him when you first met. Personal vendetta or not, you respected anyone who was brave enough to give them the justice they deserved for the destruction their reign had brought to the galaxy.

You bit your lip, considering. You had already made up your mind to take care of the child when he suggested it, but he didn’t need to know that. “How long would you need to leave him with me for?”

“A day, at most. Shouldn’t take too long, I’ve been stalking the quarry for a while.” The Mandalorian continued. “I can pay you well for your time.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You still owe me a story, you know.” Bending over, you reached into the Mandalorian’s bag and gently picked up the child, careful not to snag his tiny tunic on the metal clasps. “C’mere, bug. Looks like you and I are going to get to know each other.”

A thought popped into your head as you stared down at the small green baby. “Does he have a name?”

The armored man in front of you spoke with gruff pride, “His name is Grogu.” He seemed unexpectedly pleased at your question; you supposed he didn’t have many opportunities to talk about his son very often, with the literal wall his armor created in social interactions.

You watched in surprise as Grogu twisted towards the Mandalorian at the sound of his voice, cooing happily. “You like the sound of your name, huh?” Clearly, the kid adored him, and for good reason. The stoic warrior had an obvious soft spot for the little guy.

Speaking of which… You eyed the man in front of you. “You know, it’s generally polite to have introduced yourself by now, metal man. It’s getting a little weird to keep thinking of you as The Big, Nameless Suit of Beskar,” you teased.

You beamed up at him innocently and spoke your name, extending your hand towards him. “See? Not so hard. Now it’s your turn,” you explained slowly, as if you were trying to teach a toddler to sound out the alphabet.

After several tortuously long seconds, during which your outstretched hand began to waver slightly, he finally responded. “Most people just call me Mando.”

You dropped your arm, flexing your fingers. Ah, well, you could work on the handshake bit later. “Mando.” You hummed at the way the name easily rolled off your tongue, absently registering how the man stiffened at the lilting sound. “Not as scary as the outfit, but it’ll have to do.”

The M–Mando shrugged off the strange, momentary stillness that had possessed him and began retreating closer to the throng of marketgoers. “You’ll be alright with the kid?”

You rolled your eyes, affirming your ability to take care of Grogu while he handled business. Mando gave a quick nod and turned, preparing to leave. You took the moment to swipe the holospeaker out of the child’s hands– how had he gotten ahold of that?– and scanned the market for a booth that he might like. You still couldn’t find a textile shop in your line of sight, but you noticed a tiny arts and crafts area that seemed perfect for him to play in.

You looked up to find the Mandalorian still standing nearby, helmet tilted towards you as he paused. “For your.. story. He likes shiny toys– he’s always unscrewing bits of the ship to play with when I’m not looking.” He pulled a small metal ball out of his holster and tossed it over to you. “This is his favorite.”

You turned the sphere over in your hand, smiling as the baby immediately reached for it. “I wonder why,” you mused, giving his silver-plated father a pointed look. “Must remind him of somebody.”

Mando huffed a surprised laugh out through the modulator, helmet angled with new interest in the green child deeply entranced by the reflective surface of the ball. “Never thought of it like that before,” he muttered as he walked away, sparing you a short wave before he disappeared in the crowd.

You watched him go with a poorly-hidden grin, balancing Grogu on your hip as you navigated a path back into the market. “Alright, bug, let’s go have some fun.”

***

You spent the rest of the afternoon browsing countless booths with your charge, picking up little trinkets here and there. You eventually left with a respectable amount of merchandise– a pad of paper and coloring supplies for Grogu, a new tunic set, and even a sachet of Hothberry tea leaves that were rumored to keep one warm for hours after just one sip. Nothing for Mando, although the thought had crossed your mind more than once. You began your return home, carrying the cooing green child under streetlamps that twinkled warmly as the sky gradually darkened. He’d behaved so well all afternoon that you gave in and bought a sweetgrain scone to share on the long walk back.

You spent very few minutes setting your purchases in your rental pod upon your arrival. Grogu was getting fussy despite the snack, and you realized that Mando had never told you a meeting place where he’d pick him up. You decided to just bring Grogu along to your evening shift at the cantina, since that would likely be the first place he’d look and you didn’t want to be blamed for disappearing with his child. Sure enough, the Mandalorian showed up soon after the sun sunk beneath the icy horizon with another bag of credits and armor that was slightly more scuffed than the last time you’d seen it. You smiled, handing him his sleepy but satisfied son and the art supplies you’d picked up.

Mando had stared at the bundle of gifts for longer than necessary and for a moment you worried that you had offended him somehow. When he looked back at you, though, your fears were calmed by his intensely genuine tone. “Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.” He carefully placed the items in his bag. You smiled as he tried– and failed– to wrest the metal ball from Grogu’s tiny hands, despite the child looking seconds from passing out.

Your eyes darted to the gradually cooling bowl of soup in front of him, which hadn’t been touched since he sat down. You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Is, um, something wrong with the food? Because I didn’t see you touch it last time, and I can make something else if you need, but.. you have to tell me.”

The Mandalorian remained silent, and you doubted whether he had heard your small-voiced question when he finally spoke. “I cannot remove my helmet in front of others. It is the Way,” he explained carefully, watching your response.

Your eyes widened in comprehension as you considered his statement. The library datapad had frustratingly little information on Mandalorian culture, and you’d never heard of this rule until now. If he couldn’t remove the helmet… how long had it been since he had the chance to eat or drink without the kid nearby? Between taking care of Grogu and tracking bounties, you assumed that there was very little time for him to find a secluded area to remove the beskar. You nodded decisively to yourself, grabbing his soup bowl and motioning for him to follow you.

“What are you doing?” His voice was curious, alert but not apprehensive of your actions.

You swiveled to face him, keys dangling from one hand and a focused expression on your face. “We have a storage room for the non-perishable food back here. If you want to eat there, I can make sure that no one comes in for a while,” you explained, leading him to a cramped, dimly lit room with pallets of sandgrain flour forming a makeshift table next to a small folding chair.

“Is this.. okay?” You spoke hesitantly when he stilled at your words. Kriff, you hoped you hadn’t implied something insulting when you’d unthinkingly offered the room. You grimaced as your brain kicked into overdrive, spinning like a frightened sand massif at the first possibility of a mistake.

“I know it’s small, and I understand if you’d rather—”

“It’s perfect,” Mando interrupted you, stumbling slightly over the rushed words. “There are– many who would try to remove my helmet.” His voice lowered, edged slightly with wonder. “Thank you for allowing me to maintain my Creed.”

He stood there for a moment, helmet tilted intently down at you. His hands lingered for a fraction of a second, tough leather brushing powder-soft skin as he gently set Grogu in your arms. When he shut the door, you leaned against the doorframe as quietly as you could, still feeling the ghost of his touch on the hands pressed to your heated cheeks.

***

And so you fell into a routine: every few weeks, Mando would come by with the kid and leave him with you for a few hours while he tracked down another bounty. When he returned, you’d invite him into the back for a warm meal, allowing him to eat alone in peace for a few minutes while Grogu thawed the icy hearts of your patrons with his mischievous coos. He always arrived after nightfall and never spent longer than an hour in the cantina. Well, except for the one time he’d accidentally fallen asleep in the small room. You’d gone to check on him once you finally cleared out the evening’s customers. It was clear that he’d been napping by his scratchy, startled response when you knocked softly on the door– emphasized even more by his embarrassed posture when he exited. Privately, you thought it was rather endearing, so you chose not to tease him about the momentary lapse in consciousness.

You’d gotten used to his schedule, your semi-frequent meetings becoming a habit you were quite fond of maintaining. So when you didn’t see Mando for several weeks longer than predicted, you began to feel worried. Your heart twinged at the thought that maybe he’d found someone more interesting than a cantina waitress to look after Grogu, someone who didn’t live on an icy prison planet a parsec removed from civilization. And yet– Mando hadn’t hinted that he’d be stopping his visits, and his job was dangerous and unpredictable. Your mind swam with visions of him spiraling through space, unconscious and battered, ship engines sputtering out flame. You started taking earlier shifts at the cantina, pushing down thoughts of him before they ate at you more than they should for a casual acquaintance.

Which is why you were shocked when Mando appeared in the doorway one afternoon, silhouetted by the bright daytime sun for the first time.

A momentary hush descended upon the cantina, quickly turning into a roar of nervous chatter when the imposing beskar figure sat down at the end of the bar. You muttered an excuse to your coworkers and rushed over, trying to look casual as you scanned his armor. It looked considerably worse than it had the last time you saw him, scuffed and covered in frozen mud– but his movements didn’t seem impaired by injury. You let out a tiny huff of relief, the sound catching the attention of the Mandalorian.

He nodded at you, straightening. You sent him a small smile as you tossed him the cantina menu. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” you said, as casually as you could manage.

“Miss me?” You couldn’t see his face, but you would bet every credit of your tips today that he was smirking under that kriffing helmet. You gaped at him, then recovered yourself with a haughty toss of your head, letting your hair fall in a curtain before your face so he wouldn’t see your flustered expression.

“Don’t know why I would. I only tolerate you for your son, you know,” you sniffed, placing your hands on your hips.

He let out a surprised, genuine laugh at that, and your face warmed at the deep sound. You felt a heady rush of pride at being able to pull the reaction from the normally reserved man, fighting the desire to do whatever it took to hear it again. You quickly brushed that thought aside, however, when you took in the empty bag slung across his torso, frowning at the noticeable absence of Grogu’s big ears.

The Mandalorian followed your trailing glance. “I don’t have the kid,” he said, tone edged with a hint of frustration as he adjusted his gloves. “Kriffing Imps,” he muttered.

You paled. Imperials? “Is he–”

Mando’s helmet snapped up at the panicked tone of your voice. “No, he’s safe. Left him with a friend,” he explained. “Someone’s been following me on this bounty— maybe another Imperial remnant. Didn’t want to risk him.”

Tension bled out of your posture at his words, but your eyebrows remained knit together in confusion. “So if you’re not here to drop off the kid…” you started slowly. “What brings you back to Nath? Since you obviously didn’t stop by just to say hello,” you asked, giving him a pointed look.

Mando tilted his head in acknowledgement. Apparently, that was the closest thing you were getting to an apology. Oh, well.

“Wish I knew,” he muttered. “Chased the quarry across the galaxy for weeks, don’t know why he stopped here when there’s more populated places. It’s like he wants to be found.”

You sucked in your bottom lip, absentmindedly scrubbing at a sticky puddle of spotchka on the counter. “You think it’s a trap?”

He gave a small shrug, subtly flicking something on his helmet and scanning the room. “Not sure.” He turned back to you, posture tensed. “Somethin’ doesn’t feel right, though. Keep your eyes open and get out if there’s trouble.”

You nodded, wiping a pair of dusty glasses to make it look like you were doing something more than eyeing the half-full cantina with hidden trepidation. You felt it too– the strange quiet of the wind brushing past the shutters, the way your hair stood up on your skin.

Minutes later, a Trandoshan sauntered into the cantina and took the seat beside Mando, who immediately stilled. He grinned lecherously at you, motioning for a drink. You poured a glass of spotchka and handed it over, grimacing at the feeling of his eyes trailing down your torso like cold slime. “Thanks, honey,” he drawled, scaly hand scraping your wrist in a menacing caress. You stiffened, but chose not to respond, focusing back on the dishes. This wasn’t the first time you’d been harassed by a customer, but until now no one had dared to do so in front of the beskar-clad man sitting in front of you. Your frequent proximity to the intimidating figure seemed to cow the usual crowd into something adjacent to manners– something you missed during the weeks he was away.

“Heard you were looking for me,” he spoke affably to the Mandalorian beside him. The hulking lizard raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, smirking. Mando remained silent, hands tightened around his glass, and you wondered why he hadn’t already tied up the bounty and left. The Trandoshan’s sly confidence around his hunter made you shift uneasily. Something was very, very wrong.

“See, I got a lot of credits, and you seem reasonable,” the Trandoshan spoke casually. “I know the bounty’s not worth what I can offer you, so how about we make a deal?”

Mando shifted slightly, the beskar plate on his forearm glinting. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold. Your choice.” His voice sounded through the modulator, deep and calm with a predator’s poise. “How’s that for a deal?”

The Trandoshan let out a harsh laugh. “Shame you wouldn’t bargain,” he said with mock regret. He twisted his hand up in the air, and you watched as nine more Trandoshans slunk out of the shadows of the cantina booths. The rest of the patrons quieted as they watched the tense scene, the smart ones making their excuses and leaving in a hurry. You were no stranger to bar fights, but they’d never escalated past a couple of drunken punches and a firm boot to the curb for all involved. This one, though… it seemed like it might get deadly.

“My friends and I’ve heard something about a Mandalorian bounty hunter. One who’s got a nice, fat Imperial price tag on his head,” he sneered, spit flying from his mouth. “Think that’d be a fair replacement for mine.”

Mando turned his helmet oh-so-slightly towards you, making the tiniest nod towards the door. Go, he seemed to be telling you, and you inched towards the kitchen–

Your breath caught in your throat as you eyed the lizards closing in around him. You were sure he was a seasoned warrior, but ten armored adversaries at once seemed a little much for one person. You couldn’t help him fight, but… maybe you could distract them long enough for him to gain the element of surprise.

Before you could talk yourself out of your quickly-made plan, you grabbed a tulip-shaped flute of algarine bubbly and stepped up to the orange Tradoshan you’d served earlier with a coquettish smile. “On the house,” you said, passing him the glass with a bat of your lashes you hoped came across as sincere. You felt ill at the way his eyes rested greedily on the sliver of your chest exposed by your lean across the bar, but it appeared that you’d momentarily distracted him. If only you could get his friends’ attention, too…

You glanced around, searching for anything you could use to cause a scene– pointedly ignoring the way Mando’s gloved hands twitched at your movement closer to the dangerous humanoid. Trust me, you mentally pleaded with him. I’m trying to help.

Your eyes finally fell on the spotchka situated uncomfortably close to your elbow. Perfect. You gave the Trandoshan a ditzy giggle, swaying like you were entranced by his gaze as you quickly jabbed the large pitcher. You gasped in fake horror as it shattered, spraying alcohol over most of the floor and onto the three closest lizards. The group swiveled at the disruption, venomous glares shifting to you instead of the armored man they were gathered around.

“Oops,” you smiled, sugary-sweet and innocent. “Sorry, honey.”

And then Mando did something with his arm, flexing out his vambrace in a motion so quick you didn’t register it until flames shot across the alcohol on the bar and onto the scales of the Tradoshans. He immediately snapped into action as they roared in shocked pain, twisting and shooting as they fell one at a time. You admired his agile form for a moment, awed by how precise his movements were, how easily he moved into the flow of fighting like it was a second skin. A moment too long, it seemed, because you snapped your gaze away from Mando to see the orange Tradoshan bearing down on you.

“Fucking bitch,” he hissed, eyes bulging with hatred as he lunged across the counter. Your eyes widened as you ducked backwards, intending to stumble into the safety of the kitchen but slamming into the unforgiving wall instead. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you chided yourself, stomach dropping as you scrambled to get your bearings through the surge of pain paralyzing your muscles. You didn’t know how to fight–should’ve run for cover the minute the spotchka hit the floor, honestly– and instead you just stood there like a kriffing nerf herder.

You cried out at the impact of the Tradoshan’s sharply-scaled fist scraping your cheek, gasping and flinching away from the hit you were sure would land next between your ribs. He hissed at you through jagged teeth, sour breath like acid on your face. He cocked his blaster and you twisted yourself, preparing to launch into one final, defiant attack–

A blur of silver slammed into the orange lizard, knocking him off of you with a violent crash. You heard his bony nose break with a crack, followed by what sounded like an entire charge cartridge’s worth of blaster shots. You pushed yourself off the floor, wincing at the throb of pain that echoed at your temples but steeling yourself to get up nonetheless. Your mouth parted at the sight of the cantina, booths ablaze and blaster shots ringing through the smoky air.

Mando shouted your name over the commotion, sharp and intense. “Are you–”

“Fine. I’m fine,” you wheezed out in a relieved sob as he made his way over to you. “We need to go, the fire–”

“I know,” he muttered as he hooked an arm around your torso and dragged you behind a countertop, shielding you with his armor. “They’ve blocked the doors. Windows, too– I got seven of them, but the others are trying to burn us out.”

“Please tell me you have a backup plan,” you begged, narrowly avoiding a stray charge that chipped the already-fragile cabinet. It would only be a matter of minutes before your feeble cover fell, and you didn’t feel like waiting around for more Tradoshans to show up.

The Mandalorian shrugged, gesturing to the fireplace in front of you. “It worked the first time.”

Your jaw dropped, anxiety momentarily forgotten. “Metal man. Are you saying that on your first night here… you left through the chimney?!”

“It’s very comfortable,” was all he said as he swung you over onto the hearth, casually shooting backwards at the face of a Trandoshan peering through a crack in the cantina door. From the muffled sound of something hitting the steps, his aim was flawless.

You gaped at him, speechless with disbelief. Was he… teasing you? If he was trying to distract you from the pain shooting across your face, it was definitely working. “Oh, no, everything’s fine, I’m just escaping a crime scene with an apparent madman,” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. “Don’t know how I could’ve missed the simplest way out of here.”

No wonder you hadn’t woken up when he left– he hadn’t so much as touched the very reasonable idea of opening the shutters to get out. No, the kriffing chimney was the most obvious next step. With that kind of creativity, you supposed it made sense that he’d stayed alive in the bounty hunting business for so long. The mental image of the big, stoic Mandalorian inching his way up the vertical corridor with a little green accomplice on his back–combined with the general chaos of the last half hour–quickly became more than you could handle. You allowed yourself a moment of hysteria before sliding into the fireplace, head tilting back as you viewed the long, long passageway above.

***

Comfortable, my arse. You panted, some ten minutes later, sweat streaming down your face as you struggled to keep a solid grip on the sooty brick around you. The climb was not as amusing as you’d previously thought. Maybe you’d manage better if you had a grappling gun hidden in your forearm and boots with climbing spikes, like the beskar-plated man behind you. Right now, though, all you had were your worn-through work shoes and a hacking cough from all the smoke rising up to you from the wreck of the cantina below.

“Come on,” you muttered, willing yourself to scoot up another meter despite your quickly fatiguing thigh muscles. How tall was this chimney, anyway? It felt like you’d been climbing for miles, but maybe that was just your poor endurance talking.

“You doing okay?” Mando called up to you, grunting slightly at the weight of the Trandoshan bounty around his shoulders. There was no way you’d let him try to carry you too, though you knew he’d offer if you faltered. You screwed up your face in concentration, muttering something resembling an affirmation as you focused on shifting higher and higher until you finally, blissfully reached the top.

You let out a small whoop of success, collapsing on the roof as Mando pulled himself up behind you. “Thought I’d never make it out of there,” you beamed up at him. Your relieved smile faded as you took in his still-tensed posture as he looked off the edge of the roof.

“What is it?”

He turned back toward you, setting the Tradoshan’s body down with a thunk. “They’re setting detonators around the building,” he spoke, his modulated baritone rough and distracted as he fiddled with a heavy metal backpack beneath his cloak.

You swallowed thickly, closing your eyes for a moment as you fought to suppress the panic that rose up at his words. When you opened them, he’d shoved the Tradoshan onto the roof of the building next door, which was a safe distance away from the flames but remarkably jagged. You eyed the area, wondering if his plan was to crouch there and pray that the shrapnel from the explosion would miss the two of you.

Mando walked over, motioning for you to get up. You got back on your feet, slightly dizzy from the smoke as you stumbled over to him.

“Need you to hold on to me,” he muttered awkwardly, extending an arm. You gaped at him, utterly confused at the uncharacteristic action. How was clinging to him like a baby womp rat supposed to get you out of here before the building crumbled?

Still, you stepped closer to him and tentatively wrapped your hand around his vambrace. You made a tiny noise of surprise as he tugged you into his chest, your arms instinctively wrapping around his broad torso. You ducked your head, glad that he couldn’t see your flaming face from this angle. Yep, that touch starvation was definitely doing a number on you. You could feel the rise and fall of his breaths, his chest surprisingly warm underneath the cool beskar plates that protected it— and stars, none of that was doing anything to lessen your little crush.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and you quickly complied. Seconds after you’d scrunched your face up in concentration, you felt a tug in your stomach and the wind rise in your hair. Your eyes snapped back open on instinct as you felt your feet leave the ground, your grip on Mando tightening in panic. You peeked past his armor and saw nothing but cold winter sky— and was that a kriffing jet pack?! You gasped as you glanced down and realized that you were rapidly approaching a hundred feet in the air, the cantina exploding into a fiery speck beneath you.

You and large heights had a strained relationship, so you clung to Mando with all your strength and prayed that he had enough fuel to land somewhere very solid. “You didn’t tell me we’d be flying out of there,” you spoke, words muffled by the wind and the way your face was currently scrunched against his hard chestplate.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded. If you weren’t so focused on staying alive, you might have been offended at his cheeky tone, but you settled for an eye roll.

You landed a few miles outside of town on the ice fishers’ territory. It took you longer than you wanted to admit to get detangled from the Mandalorian, mostly because your fingers had frozen into a death grip of a hug around him. He gently pried you off his armor, setting you on a patch of snow slightly less icy than the others and walking past you. You turned to see him open the boarding ramp of a silver Razor Crest in all its pre-Imperial glory. The ship was older than you expected, but in decent condition.

You carefully followed him into the ship, climbing up after him into the cockpit. The leather passenger seat was surprisingly comfortable, and your muscles slowly unstiffened as you watched him fire up the engines.

“I have to go pick up the bounty,” Mando stated, moving over to set the navigation screen. He paused. “Do you need to be… dropped off somewhere?”

“I— I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you admitted, looking down at your lap. “The only place I had a connection to here was just blown up.” You winced, wondering how you’d ever find work now that you were partly to blame for the destruction of the town’s singular watering hole.

Mando was silent for a while as he maneuvered the ship towards the cantina wreckage. You craned your neck towards the arching glass windows, staring down at the snowy landscape of Nath. “It’s so much more beautiful from above,” you spoke softly, wonder evident in your tone. “Always wanted to travel, see views like this every day, but… off-world tickets these days are too expensive.” Your face took on a wistful expression. “Must be nice to do this for your job. I bet the kid loves it, too.”

Mando cleared his throat, helmet tilting towards you.

“You could— work for me. Take care of the kid, here on the ship,” he spoke hesitantly. “Visit planets with us when I’m not hunting bounties.”

You glanced over at him in shock, mouth falling open. Hope swelled up in you at his words, and you could hardly breathe at the idea of what he was offering you. A way off Nath, to experience the galaxy like you’d always dreamed- stars, but it felt surreal.

“It’d be better for him to have someone to rely on when I’m gone, stay in one place for longer,” he continued, faltering slightly at your silence. “The ship’s small, but I can pay you well and your needs would be taken care of for as long as you stay—“

“Yes,” you gasped out, the words embarrassingly rushed, but you didn’t care. “If— if you’re serious, then yes, I accept.”

He seemed surprised at the vehemence with which you spoke, but nodded. “This is the Way,” his deep baritone sounded through the modulator, final and determined.

This is the Way. You practically vibrated with excitement at the phrase, face breaking into a grin as you settled back in the seat. All you’d have to do was keep that pesky attraction to the beskar-covered man piloting the ship under control, and you’d finally be free. Free of Nath’s soul-crushing atmosphere, free to travel the galaxy like you’d always dreamed of— albeit with a little green child at your side.

Sure, he was the most interesting person you’d ever met, and the way his voice lowered when he bantered with you sent a jolt of something down your spine.

But it couldn’t be that hard, right?

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl @aheadfullofsteverogers @dindjarinsmut @orcasoul

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part iii

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solsays · 2 months

Text

here we go again. serious post time. This one is about a very serious topic, and could be very sensitive for some people (cw: manipulation, domestic abuse). if you aren’t aware, this is about Shelby (and Wilbur, which is mainly who this post is about, but reminder that THIS IS NOT HIS STORY. TOSS HIM ASIDE. LIFT SHUBBLE UP.). There is a TLDR at the bottom, as well as a comment regarding my fics.

Shelby (Shubble) recently spoke about an ex boyfriend who abused her. People were guessing it was Wilbur, but she couldn’t say the name due to legal things, but today the scumbag posted a response.He tweeted an “apology”, that spoiler alert, was not an apology. Here is his sorry excuse of a reply if you’d like to read for yourself:

There are some things I’d like to point out here. First of all, he made this about himself. It’s not a damn apology, it’s a lousy attempt at avoiding taking responsibility. Second, he refers to the abuse as an “allegation.” It is not.

He locked her in his filthy ant-infested house. He refused to give her house keys even when he made her clean up after him and pay for the materials. He went two months without unpromptedly complementing her. He bit her so hard that it bruised and she would scream out their safe word. At the safe word he would sometimes bite harder, or grind his teeth against her skin. He joked that she looked like she was abused.

By the way, human bites are more dangerous than an animal bite. They’re incredibly dangerous due to the amount of bacteria in our mouths and can easily kill someone. Oh and also? That reply has an 85% match with AI generated content on TurnItIn, a website used for college papers.

Here are some responses to his “apology” from other CCs, as well as Shelby’s response:

You hear Shubble. They don’t accept it, meaning neither will we.

As far as other response go especially Freddie and Billzo’s are incredibly concerning. Do not, I repeat, do not pressure Tommy in particular to respond as quickly. He was one of the closest people to Wilbur. He was very young when they became friends, and Wilbur clearly has a history manipulating teenagers. They went through a friend’s death together. Maybe he did have a soft spot for Tommy, or maybe Tom received the worst treatment of any of his friends.

Phil is currently out of the country and off of Twitter, so he might take a bit to reply as well as the fact he may only now be realizing that he was close friends with an abuser. If he supports Wilbur, we drop him too.

Wilbur does not deserve support. He is a terrible person. He manipulates people for his own benefit, “abuses those he loves”. If you’re abusing someone? You do not love them.

I have dealt with plenty of people like him, and it is so easy to miss the signs. Especially if they’re good at what they do. They gaslight, they lie, and they trick you. Do not assume that anybody knew about his abuse just because they were friends with him.

Go support Shelby. Encourage her. Follow her and watch her videos. She’s so incredibly sweet and funny, and they’re a joy to watch. Shelby is asexual and uses she/they pronouns.

There is no excuse for supporting him. I have followed Wilbur since late 2020. I was there for the first Lovejoy EP. I was there for YLYL. I have merch from Lovejoy. He has been a huge comfort to me through some of the hardest times of my life. When this came out, I have blocked both Lovejoy and Wilbur on Spotify. I have taken down every piece of merch or posters I own. Don’t support him, period.

He did not care about her. He is a terrible fucking person, and deserves to be deplatformed entirely.

As far as my fics go, I will be (once again) removing his character entirely from any story I have. It may take a while as I’m incredibly busy at the moment, but I will be doing it as quickly as possible.

One final reminder: This is about Shubble. This is NOT about Wilbur. Let Shubble take her time to process this. Support them every step of the way. She is a wonderful person and deserves the world, and the best thing we can do is focus on them and their strength through all of this. They don’t want to be known for this. Let’s get him gone and focus on lifting her up <3

TLDR: Wilbur basically admitted to abusing Shelby in an incredibly self-centered and manipulative excuse of an “apology”. Do not support him, go support Shubble.

#qsmp #wilbur soot #wilbur #shubble #discourse #Kind of #qsmp discourse #putting those there so that folks with them blocked won’t see this #cw domestic abuse #cw abuse #cw manipulation #cw domestic violence #mcyt discourse

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gabbasposts · 6 months

Text

]You’ll know in time[

Lies of P: P (Pinocchio) x fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, power play, P has a dick 💀 language, minors and ageless blogs are getting blocked ✌️😘

Gif not mine

A/n: first of, SPOILERS. Especially if you aren’t far in the game. I literally sat on this for the longest time trying to figure out how I could make him having a dick be logical 😀 I saw some people theorizing that the ending where he passes out in Sophia’s arms was because he was fully human and the exhaustion of everything he had done up until that point finally took over. And while it isn’t the most solid explanation (especially when there’s a bit of hinting towards the fact he might be the tin man due to the ending)… your here because you want to fuck him, so we’re just going to use that for now. Anyways, reader is a Stalker (no I don’t specify any other details about them other than the fact they probably have two names) and I like to imagine P and them have a Batman and Cat woman kind of relationship for this fic. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy 💀

•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/

"Slower." The sudden command caused P to glare at the woman before him, his blue eyes narrowing at them with clear distaste in them.

His hand had been working his cock for the better part the of an hour, listening to the Stalker who stared at him... a smirk of satisfaction crossing her features as she looked at him with an air of indifference, slowly circling the chair she had pushed him into earlier.

"Come on… your not that eager now, are you?Have some patience." She jeered finally coming to stand in front of P who made an annoyed sound.

"Stroke it slower or I won't help you. It's as simple as that." She spoke tilting her head as P made a "Tch." Sound, clearly annoyed by her orders.

However, she knew he loved it… her commands, her edging him into madness. He could pout and make as much annoyed sounds he wanted, but his body always told her otherwise.

She didn't know when P had became human... he left the hotel one day, after the Black Rabbit Brotherhood had attacked, seemingly to face off against Geppetto and when he returned, or... when Sophia had returned him, that's when she had discovered his newfound humanity.

It had been a stupefying sight, having him wake up in his hotel room so that he could rest up... she had been by his bed side, boredily waiting for him to awake and tell her of the happenings of his journey.

Her favorite past time was pestering him when he was around, finding satisfaction with his narrowed eyed gaze, and looks of utter desperation with wanting to stop her from her usual behavior.

When he did finally awake, as expected, he had been annoyed and hadn't thought twice about simply shrugging off his clothing as he walked to the large wardrobe just a few feet from the foot of his bed.

Not that she had complained of course, but when she had saw it... the manhood between his legs…it was safe to say, even once he had fully re-dressed into cleaner clothing, her jaw had still been on the floor once he had turned around. Simply giving her a questioning look before making his way out of the room.

In his eyes, he didn’t feel any different. His body had changed and he had some… new additions, but changing in-front of her hadn’t been a big deal.

They had an interesting relationship to say the least... she had been scavenging the day she met him, mistaking him for a human at first before noticing the mechanical twitch in his body. He told her about a safe spot, that being of Krat Hotel, a place she had thought had long fallen but was pleasantly surprised to see was doing well in the care of Antonia before she succumbed to her illness...

And every time he stopped by to simply change his clothing, or talk to Eugenie and Sophia, she made sure to annoy him with her presence. Sometimes going the extra mile to stalk him around the city before revealing herself to him after a fight, much to his annoyance.

How they got to this part of their acquaintanceship was a long story to say the least but that didn't matter now... His right hand slowly began to move... from the base of his cock where a simple vein ran just along the side, and ever so slowly to his red tip, which leaked the opaque white substance that threatened to erupt in full from the angry red tip of his length.

Her eyes slowly traveled from P's face, down his chest until she was starring straight at his length. Biting her lip slightly, as her fingers came to brush a strand of his shoulder length hair from his face.

She didn't miss how his shaky exhale fell from his lips, causing her to hum in contentment as she pulled away. His blue eyes stayed on hers as his head gently lulled to the side, his hand still going at the begrudging slow pace that made his hold on the armrest with his mechanical hand coke to a dangerous point, the small sound of the wood splintering filling the room alongside there eager breaths.

"When are you going to tell me how this happened?" Her tone was low and sultry as she slowly began to strip out of her own clothing. She watched, feeling her core throb as he fixed her with a warning gaze.

P wasn't someone who fell into her provoking traps, but she couldn't deny that she loved pushing his buttons, watching as he jaw clenched and he’d fix her with a warning gaze.

"When are you going to tell me your name?" He spoke, his voice low and slightly velvety as his eyes began to wander over her body, drinking in every detail and piece of skin that was slowly being revealed to him. She sighed, sitting in the foot of the bed before him, kicking off her pants before leaning back on one arm, as her other moves to the front of her.

"You already know it." She answered matter-of-factly, as she spread her legs wider for him to see her cunt in which was sopping wet by this point.

"Your real name." He answered gritting his teeth as his hand suddenly came to a halt. He fought to keep his eyes open, his half lidded gaze on her cunt as his cock twitched in his hand. Threatening to blow his load.

She made a small humming sound, herding her middle and ring finger coming down to massage her clitoris with slow movements as she kept her eyes on his. "...you'll know in time."

"Then so will you." He said, biting his lip suddenly as his eyes took in your actions. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his words, clearly wanting to play a mental game of Russian roulette with the information they both eagerly wanted to know about one another, but not ready to reveal.

"Fine... in the mean time, come here." She spoke softly, her hand still working her core. She watched as his gaze found his again, darkening at the prospect of finally being able to indulge in her.

She wanted to be more of a tease. Perhaps make him beg for her, or make him make her cum with his good hand or tongue before she allowed his cock to sink into her, but in her efforts of teasing him, she had only managed to edge herself as well. She wanted him now...

He stood up, his eyes gazing down on her unblinkingly as he took only a few steps closer. Without as much as a warning, he pushed her back by her shoulders until she fell plush against the soft covers of the bed, the action causing her to smirk as she gazed up at him. "Your starting to understand what I want now."

He said nothing, simply grabbing the back of her knees and pulling her so that her bottom was closer to the edge of the bed, giving him better leverage of how hard he wanted to fuck her.

She stared at him, an action he matched as he hummed quietly, his right hand holding the base of his cock as he dragged the tip through her dripping folds.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve talking about how desperate I’ve been when your this wet… I wonder…” his voice took on a strange yet sultry tone, making her stomach flutter for a moment as he began ever so slowly pushing the tip into her.

“Were you ever this aroused by me when I had been nothing but a mere puppet?” Y/n didn’t have time to ask, as he suddenly sheathed himself fully within her, finally snapping that coil that had been holding on for so long… anticipating for this moment.

She moaned out, an action that caused P to throb within her as he tilted his head giving her an almost hungered look as he slowly dragged his hips away from hers.

By the time he snapped them back against her, she felt dizzy. This was a far cry from her hand… and she couldn’t help but to whimper out as he began to find his pace, making sure regardless his thrust were hard against hers.

“Mmh… curious, aren’t we?” She tried to chuckle shakily but was interrupted by a particular hard thrust that caused her to cry out. “Very.” He answered back, before his pace quickened.

The room began to feel with the sounds of her moans and mewls. His grunts and sharp breaths aided in helping her get off and P couldn’t help but to smirk.

It was going to be a long night it seemed…

•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/•\•/

A/n AGAIN: this fic was supposed to be longer but Ive been sick with covid so yeah 😒 also this P is very Carlo coded in this fic, or Carlo coded in my eyes. Idk why, but while P naturally seems more submissive to me, Carlo gives me bratty switch vibes, but for this fic I wanted to give P the top role (after letting him be subby and follow readers orders ofc)

But yeah, I hope y’all liked it 😂

#lies of p smut #p x reader smut #gabbasdumbthoughts #yeah

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katethewriter · 1 year

Note

congrats on 1k!!! how abt wandanat x reader where r is a singer and on tour. wandanat surprise r on tour? btw love your writinggg!!

She is Love

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Words: 3.5k~

Warnings: none, light angst in the beginning, total fluff at the end, cheesy writing

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. So, thank you so much to the anon who requested this. I love you. Also, if you're curious, this is titled after the song She is Love by Parachute. You should totally go check it out! Listen on repeat while reading the fic. It's definitely one of my favorite songs (this is my fave cover, also how I imagine R sounds singing it). Without any further ado, here we go! I hope you enjoy!

“Where are you, detka?” Wanda asks leaning forward in the passenger seat. She brings the phone closer to her face to examine the background behind you.

Natasha looks over from the driver seat, “let me see.”

The Sokovian pulls the phone away from the other woman’s view, “eyes on the road, Romanoff.”

The assassin rolls her eyes, but does as she’s told, grumbling something along the lines of ‘She’s my girlfriend too.’

From the other side of the facetime call, you laugh at your girlfriends’ antics. Part of you, a large part, aches to be with them right now, especially on a day like today. But you don’t want them to see you upset, so you push the feeling away and smile, “wait- where are you?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Wanda raises an eyebrow, “I asked first.”

Now, you are the one rolling your eyes. “Fine,” you say and flip your camera around, “I’m in a coffee shop.”

Panning around the small shop, you give them a view of your drink on the table before turning the camera back to face you.

“It’s cute and just down the block from my hotel.” You take a quick look around the room, “its bringing back some memories. You know?” You smile to your girlfriend.

Wanda smiles sweetly, “I know, detka.”

“Where is Gary?” Natasha asks from off screen.

“Calm down,” you turn the camera around again to show your bodyguard standing on the other side of the coffee shop window, “he’s right there. I am capable of taking care of myself, you know.”

“We do know,” Wanda turns the phone so you can see them both, “we also know that thousands of people have flocked to that city to see you perform. Our enemies could be hiding amongst them.”

You release a long sigh. They did this the last time you went on tour too, though you weren’t nearly as popular and well-known that time. They still demanded that you have a bodyguard with you whenever you left the hotel. Though you felt it was unnecessary, you obliged to give them peace of mind when they couldn’t be there to protect you.

The tour has been exhilarating, but it is hitting you a bit harder than the first one. For your first tour, you were just an opening act; this go around, you are the headliner. Everyone that comes to these concerts is there to see you, and you are dedicated to giving them the best show possible, even if it exhausts you, even if it makes you miss time with your girlfriends.

It’s been so long since you have seen them last, and sometimes all the facetimes, phone calls, and texts in the world can’t make up for not being in their arms.

Today is one of those days.

Make no mistake. You are so grateful to be where you are in your career and for your girlfriends who have supported you every step of the way. Just sometimes you wish you had a break.

Wanda must have picked up on this, “are you ok?” Her expression hints at worry, but her voice manages to stay light.

“You never answered my question,” you quickly changed the subject, “where are you guys?”

Natasha looks over from the driver’s side with a cheeky smile. “In a car,” she answers and turns her attention back to the road.

You chuckles, “yeah I got that, but where are you driving?”

Wanda shakes her head, “detka, you know we can’t tell you that.”

Ducking your head, you nod, “right.”

Dating two avengers proved to be a bit harder than you had first anticipated. Take a situation like today for example.

The original plan was for them to be here today. They were going to see the show, and tomorrow night’s show and then you would get to spend your off day with them after that. However, they had been given a last-minute mission, so plans changed.

Maybe that’s why you missed them so much. You had gotten too excited for them to be here.

“We’re sorry, lyubov,” the widow apologizes. She can hear the disappointment in your voice, and it’s breaking her heart. “As soon as this mission is over, we will be on the next flight to you. I promise.”

You smile and nod, not wanting to worry them anymore.

The Sokovian attempts to distract you from the hard emotions, “so what else do you have left to do today?”

Glancing at your watch quickly, you tell them of your schedule for the day, “well, I have a sound check in a little over an hour, maybe a quick dance rehearsal. Then a small lunch, meet and greet, then we get ready for the show.”

Natasha pulls over and parks the car, so she can really pay attention to the call before you have to end it.

“Sounds like you’re gonna be busy… as always,” Wanda jokes. She manages to pull a genuine smile from you and it makes her heart soar.

“As always,” you playfully agree.

Your other girlfriend takes the phone, “be safe and have fun!”

“Okay-“

“and for the love of god, drink water,” she quickly adds. You try and fail to hide the blush forming in your cheeks.

Damn, they know you so well.

“I will,” you promise, “can I call you after the show?”

Your girlfriends share a look, and you know they are having a silent conversation in they’re heads. When they’re done, Wanda answers, “maybe, it will depend on where we are in the mission. We will text you to let you know, ok?”

It’s not what you wanted, but it’s better than no contact at all. So, you’ll take it. “Ok, I guess I probably need to be heading back,” you grab your coffee and stand, making your way to the exit.

“Have a great show! Break a leg!” Natasha encourages you with a smile.

Wanda mirrors her, “we love you so much, and we are so incredibly proud of you.”

“I love you both too,” you smile warmly to them. You blow them a kiss and end the call. You make your way to Gary, so you both can walk to the venue.

You miss your girls greatly, but right now, you need to focus on the performance.

The call ends, and Wanda slumps into her seat.

The Sokovian looks to her girlfriend, “I hate lying to her.”

“Me too, but don’t worry. It’ll be worth it,” the Russian kisses her softly. She puts the car in drive and they continue they’re journey.

🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶

A loud ringing sound fills your ears.

You just finished one of your most popular songs, and the audience is cheering. You hold the pose for another moment before you turn to the stage hand who carries your water bottle and acoustic guitar.

“Thank you,” you take the water and drink greedily while the band plays transition music. Switching the water bottle for the guitar, you get ready to continue the show.

Up next in the set is the empty slot.

Every performance, about 2/3 through the show, you have a slot which you get to use as you wish. Often times, you will pull a fan on stage, which is always a blast. Sometimes, you just want to sing a song not from the set list.

Tonight, you decided to sing a special song.

Walking down to the end of the catwalk, you strum the guitar while the band fades out slowly. Waiting for you at the end of the platform is a stool and two microphones on stands. One for you to sing into and the other to pick up the guitar.

Sitting down, you take a moment to look around. You strum lightly, surrounded by audience members. Some standing right beside the stage, looking up at you excitedly.

“Is it alright with you guys if I slow things down a bit?” you ask into the mic.

Happy cheers sound all around you making you smile widely to them all.

“Thanks,” you continue to strum, “I kinda want to tell you guys a story. It’s about a girl who liked to make music; I bet you can guess who that girl was.”

They cheer again, and you chuckle.

“Yep, its about me, back before I released a song, before I dropped an album, before that album hit the top of the charts. Back when performing in a stadium like this,” you pause to look around, eyes scanning all the way from the audience members on the floor to the ones up in the nosebleeds, “was just a pipe dream.”

“I used to play in these little hole in the wall venues around New York, café’s, a few bars, a park or two.” Pausing to take a breath, you glance down to your hands as they manipulate the strings to produce sound. You look back up and continue, “one day, I was playing in a little coffee shop, and the two most beautiful women I’ve ever seen walked in.”

At the reference to your girlfriends, the crowd goes crazy, erupting into applause and screams.

Your connection to them is well known all around the world. The relationship between two avengers and a very popular music artist has hit headlines multiple times over the past few years. Almost all being positive.

The three of you are seen as champions for the queer community and the first major representation of a throuple and poly relationships in general. Your fans being some of your biggest supporters with their social media fan pages all over the internet.

You laugh at their excitement, “ok, so you know which two women I’m talking about? Well, they sat in that coffee shop all day listening to me play, and I guess you know, the rest is history.” Smiling softly, you make sure to keep your voice from shaking. Maybe telling the story of how you met the loves of your life while you are missing them so much wasn’t the greatest idea, but here you are.

“The funny thing about this story,” you smile widely, “is that it took place exactly four years ago today.”

They all begin to scream again, and you have to wait for them to quiet down.

“So you can imagine today is a pretty special day to me,” you chuckle, “so to honor this special day, I would like to play a very special song. It was actually one of the ones I played in that coffee shop that day, so…. here we go.”

Plucking at the guitar strings, you let the sound of the crowd fade away, as you focus on the song and the two you wish were here to hear it….. and then you sing….

“I've been beaten down. I've been kicked around, but she takes it all for me...

... and I lost my faith in my darkest days, but she makes me want to believe.

They call her love, love, love, love, love.

She is love, and she is all I need. Yeah, yeah.”

In this moment, you could hear a pin drop.

The audience is silent. Out of thousands of people, no one makes a sound. Every soul in the stadium is mesmerized as you play.

It’s incredible, like you have stopped time, creating a bubble around yourself and your guitar while the rest of them remain frozen.

From their seats, Wanda and Natasha watch just as entranced as the others. Tears fill their eyes as they are transported back 4 years ago. They’ve admitted that the moment you played this song in the coffee shop that day, that was the moment they knew they were going to fall in love with you.

You’ve played them this song on this day every year since, and you didn’t break the tradition today.

Wanda squeezes Natasha’s hand, gaining her attention. They share a glance, and in each other’s eyes, they see the love they share for you reflecting back at them. Turning back at the stage, they fall under your spell again.

They somehow fall even more in love with you as you continue to sing.

“Well, I had my ways. They were all in vain, but she waited patiently.

It was all the same. All my pride and shame, but she put me on my feet.

They call her love, love, love, love, love.

She is love, and she is all I need. She is love, and she is all I need.

She's all I need.”

The last note echoes through the stadium as the song ends. A moment of silence follows as no one wants to break the moment.

Through the silence, you think you hear a voice in your head.

“We love you more than you will ever know, Y/n.”

Instantly, you stand.

“Wanda?” you ask loudly in your mind.

While the crowns applauses, your eyes search the audience even though you doubt you would be able to spot her even if she was here.

‘But she’s not here,’ you have to remind yourself.

“Everything ok?” your stage manager asks through the intercom in your ear. You must have been standing there a while.

Turning back to the main part of the stage, you answer her, “yeah, I’m good.”

You pass off your guitar for a microphone and move on to the next song.

🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶🎵🎶

“Ready to head back to the hotel?” Gary asks, when you meet him at the stage door.

You crack an exhausted smile, “you have no idea.”

He opens the door, and you step out onto the sidewalk.

As you cross the threshold, you are met with cold night air and the crowd of fans that have gathered at the stage door. You have to hold back your sigh.

Even though all you wanna do is crawl into bed, you love one on one interaction with your fans. With a wide smile, you pull a sharpie out of your bag and greet the group.

“Y/n, can you sign this?” a woman asks, holding out a vinyl record of your album.

“Sure!” you oblige happily.

A small girl and her grown-up approach, and you can tell the child is a bit nervous. Dropping to her level, you ask, “what can I do you for, beautiful girl?”

She smiles widely and asks for a picture.

This pattern continues as you move from person to person, taking pictures, signing photos, tshirts, books.

Gary stands a few feet away from you, watching ready to intervene in a moments notice if needed. He quickly glances around the street, checking the environment for possible threats. Looking to the side, two very familiar individuals catch his eye.

One brings a finger to her lips in a ‘shhhh’ symbol. The bodyguard smiles smugly and nods, returning his focus to his charge.

Next, you see an individual about your age. They wear a gender-nonbinary button on their jacket and hold a flag in their hand. “Hi, I’m a huge fan of you and your girlfriends,” they greet sheepishly, “actually….. you three kinda inspired me to finally come out to my family. Would you sign my poly flag, please?”

Your heart swells and smile ear to ear, “I would be honored!” Moments like this made everything worth it. You sign the flag and take a picture with before you had to move on to the next fan.

Before you can speak to the next one, Gary steps up beside you, “I’m sorry guys, but Miss Y/n needs to get going.” He gently starts directing you to the side, away from the group.

As you turn to stop him, your eyes pass over two people at the opposite end of the block. You do a double take to make sure you are really seeing correctly.

There with in walking distance is the two people you have wanted to see most all night. Without another thought, you break into a sprint to get to them immediately. Once close enough, you launch yourself into their arms, and they wrap around you tightly.

There is no stopping the happy tears that fall down your cheeks. It’s just been so long, and you are finally together.

Pulling back, you can see they both have tears in their eyes too. You lean forward capturing Wanda’s lips between your own.

You hear cheering mixed with the sound of photos being taken. You can’t bring yourself to care about the paparazzi photos that will circle the internet tomorrow.

All you care about is the two women in your arms.

Kissing Wanda feels like home. You deepen the kiss, trying to heal all of the ache and longing in it.

Beside you, Natasha clears her throat. “I missed you too, detka,” she teases sarcastically.

Wanda and you both laugh, ending the kiss with a final peck.

“Sorry,” you turn to the red head and wrap your arms around her neck. Bringing her into a kiss just as passionate as the one you gave Wanda, you squeal when she you picks up and spins around.

By the time she set you back on your feet, you feel dizzy from her kiss. You pull away to catch your breath, and Wanda resumes her place in the embrace.

Realization hits, and you turn to the witch wide eyed. “That was you I heard in my head after She is Love!”

The Sokovian crinkles her nose and smiles, “guilty.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” you look between the two questioningly.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Natasha shrugs.

“Sorry to interrupt,” your body-guard approaches, “the car is just around the corner here. You may wish to continue this reunion at the hotel.” He gestures to the crowd still gathered watching the three of you intently.

“Lead the way,” Natasha agrees, taking your hand and following the man.

He opens the back door for you all to get in, Wanda first and then you.

“Thanks Gary,” you smile before climbing in with Natasha right behind you. You sigh happily with your girlfriends on each side of. The three of you do nothing but snuggle the whole ride to the hotel.

“I’m still confused,” you state.

You lie on the hotel bed with your head in Wanda’s lap and Natasha lying beside you.

The three of you are freshly showered. The room service you ordered has been eaten. There is a movie playing on the tv, but no one is watching it. You are too focused on each other.

You look up at Wanda with a furrowed brow, “you’re supposed to be on a mission. How are you here?”

“Yeah, Fury tried to send us on a mission,” Natasha laughs, “after the briefing this morning, it was clear we were not needed. The rest of the team agreed they could handle it on their own.”

Wanda runs her fingers through your hair, “Tony lent us his fastest car, and we came as quick as we could.”

“We weren’t going to miss being with you,” the assassin places a delicate kiss to your head, “especially not today.”

Your two girlfriends make eye contact, and Wanda nods.

The assassin presses another kiss to your head and gets up from the bed to fetch something.

You whine at the loss of contact, but Wanda smiles and soothes you softly. Waiting for her to get back seems to take forever, and when she returns, she holds something behind her back.

“What do you have?” you ask amused and curious. You try to peak behind her back, but she moves so you are unsuccessful.

The Russian lays back in her spot, keeping her hand behind her back. “We had a plan to surprise you onstage, but because of the briefing, we didn’t make it in time to arrange it with your stage manager.”

“We were going to ask you during the concert,” Wanda smiles, “but this will do just as well.”

“Ask me wha-“

The words stop in your throat as Natasha finally reveals the small box from behind her back. As she opens it to display the ring inside, your eyes grow glassy.

“Will you marry us?” Natasha asks. She is looking at you like you hung the stars.

A tear slips down your cheek when you nod, “yes. Yes, of course! Yes!”

The widow grins as she slips the ring on your finger. She leans down to kiss you soundly. You then quickly sit up to kiss Wanda as well.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look down to your hand in awe. Looking between both Wanda and Natasha, you whisper, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” they say in unison.

For a moment, you get lost in their eyes, the two most beautiful set of eyes. Then you pull them both in for another short, but passionate kiss.

The three of you sink beneath the covers. Wanda and Natasha burrow into you as close as possible while you bask in their love.

The three of you lay and talk and catch each other looking at the ring on your finger. Occasionally, they bring you hand to their lips tenderly.

Eventually, you succumb to the exhaustion of the day, falling into a deep sleep safe in the arms of your fiancés.

#wandanat x reader #wanda x reader #natasha x reader #wanda x natasha #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximov x reader #natasha romanov x reader #wanda maximov x natasha romanov #wanda x natasha x reader #MCU #fem!reader #singer!reader #wlw #poly relationship #she is love #parachute

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maverick-wingman · 8 months

Text

Broken Skies (Bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell! Reader) Chapter 1

Note: I apologize for the long long wait. I was really lacking motivation and just on a long writer's block for the past few months. But here is Chapter 1 for Broken Skies. The Sneak Peak is linked below for those that have not read it yet. And also thank you @justabigassnerd and @callsign-dexter for motivating me to write more! ❤️

This is a redo of my Bradley Bradshaw Part 1. This is more of a prequel rather than a sneak peek this time. Mel - “one who is fearless and daring.” Canon characters are out of character. Iceman will be healthy in this fic.

Warnings: Nothing big, maybe angst, other than a brief mention of death, and military inaccuracies. NOT grammar/spelling checked. Some switching between first names and callsigns.

Masterlist | Sneak Peek | Chapter 1

In the room with Cyclone and Warlock, Maverick looked at the screen and saw 2 very familiar faces. Cyclone looked at Maverick and asked, “Is there a problem, Captain?” Maverick looks at him, “You know there is sir.” Cyclone signed and zoomed in on your picture, “Lieutenant Mitchell, callsign Mel, one of the best pilots I have seen in years. She was top of her class. Two confirmed air-to-air kills. You must be very proud. Captain.” Maverick smiles, “I am, sir. I’m proud of her every day.”

Maverick was indeed proud. Starting from the second you were born, he knew you would be a mini him the second he got called for a parent-teacher meeting for you not following directions and being a bit rebellious. There was also the first time he took you on your first little joyride, instead of being scared like most people that are thousands of feet up in the air going hundreds of miles per hour, you were so excited. You had the time of your life. You especially loved when he did aerobatics. You kept on asking him to do another one, he often wondered how you never got dizzy or felt nauseous. As you grew older, you went on to be just like him. If not, maybe even a little better. Now here you are, getting called back to Top Gun to be a possible candidate for a special detachment. This isn’t like the past missions you’ve been on. This is life or death. He knows there is a chance someone isn’t coming back.

Cyclone then zoomed in on another person. Rooster. “Bradley Bradshaw aka Rooster. I understand you flew with his old man. What was his call-sign again?” “Goose, sir” “Tragic what happened.” Warlock cuts in defending Maverick. All Maverick could do was nod. Memories of what happened replaying in his mind.

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“Dad?” You saw your dad sitting by the bar alone. You thought he’s in the desert working on the Death Star. Why is he here? He turned around and you smiled excitedly going over and hugging him as tight as possible. You felt him hug back just as tight. “Hey sweetheart.” You always loved the daddy-daughter hugs. It made you feel safe and relaxed. You haven’t seen him in person in almost a year.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re supposed to be somewhere in the desert.” You saw the look he gave and you couldn’t help but grin. “You pissed off another admiral, didn’t you?” He chuckled at your response. “You could say that.” You sat next to him. “So… what are you doing here at North Island? Did Uncle Ice tell you I was here?” You asked him.

“Well uh…. in a manner of speaking.” You noticed the look your dad had. There was worry in his eyes. You hadn’t seen that look in a long time. “You’re here for the detachment… aren’t you? That’s why you’re here.” He gave you a look. You knew the answer. “How bad is it going to be?” You looked to your dad. “I can’t say too much yet, but … this is something no one’s ever seen.” All you could do was nod. Before you can react you felt him rub your shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You’re the best fighter pilot I know.” You let out a little chuckle, “don’t let Uncle Ice hear you say that.” You heard him let out some chuckles.

You talked with your dad for a little longer to catch up on everything. He told you that the Kazansky’s invited you both over for dinner tomorrow night. You were excited, as you have seen your Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah in a while. You heard your name being called, looking over you saw Jake and Javy calling you over. You heard your dad’s voice, “go on, go catch up with them.” You looked over to him. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. We have plenty of time to catch up more.” You smiled and hugged him one last time before going over.

“What’s Pops doing here?” Jake asked after pulling you into a hug. You didn’t want to ruin the surprise. “He’s here visiting old friends.” You responded as Javy pulled you in for a side hug.

As you talked, you caught up with Phoenix, you met some new members: Bob, who was so sweet, Payback and Fanboy who both were really nice, although you felt a little competitiveness between them and Jake and Javy. Jake would not stop teasing Bob, you had to nudge him a few times hoping he’d stop messing with the guy.

Maverick watched as his little girl bonded with her teammates. Despite Jake's reputation he trusted him that he wouldn’t leave his daughter behind, but he is unsure if he would do the same for the rest of the team.

You looked over and saw a familiar face entering the Hard Deck. Bradley Bradshaw.

Bradley walked over to the group. “Bradshaw.” “Hangman… you look good” “Well, I am good Rooster, I’m very good. In fact, I’m too good to be true.” Hangman responds, smirking. Bradley then looked over to you. “Mel.” “Rooster.” “Why am I not surprised you’re here?” You rolled your eyes, scoffing at his remark. You knew what he was thinking, he still believed the reason you made it this far is because of your dad and uncle. “Well who else did you expect?”

Before Bradley could say another word, Jake cuts in, “you’re just jealous Bradshaw, admit it, you will never fly like Mel here. She takes risks unlike a certain someone. She’ll make a great mission leader, but anyone that follows you will just run out of fuel. Waiting for the right moment that never comes.” You felt Jake’s arm snake around your shoulders.

Jake is your best friend, you could say. Sure, during training he would leave his wingman and fly off, but during the missions he was never like that. At least not to you. He saved your life; that’s how he got his first confirmed air to air kill. If it wasn’t for him, you would not be standing here right now.

Bradley suddenly felt a ping of jealousy growing inside him. Since when were you and Hangman so close? But Bradley being Bradlet, he chose to ignore it. “And anyone that follows you will just end up in a grave.” That ticked you off a little. You wished Jake would let you tell everyone what really happened that day. You don’t get why Jake wants to keep it a secret, he loves to show off. Only a few people know the exact details.

“They’re on me! I can’t shake them!” you said with a panicking voice. With an enemy aircraft chasing after you at full speed. Trying different maneuvers, you dodged as many bullets that you could. That’s when you heard a beeping sound; the enemy got a lock on you. Just as you started accepting your fate, there was an explosion sound. You looked over and saw the enemy fighter jet blowing up into pieces. “You owe me a drink, Mel.” Y/N looked over and saw Hangman giving her a grin. He just saved your life, for once not living up to his callsign.

After that, it was Hangman and Mel. Jake and Y/N. You became best friends and each other’s wingperson.

Other than Rear Admiral Jackson, Javy, Maverick and Iceman, no one knew it was Jake that saved you. Jake wanted to keep it a secret. With the help from Iceman, no one knew what really happened. Because the mission only needed 2 pilots, it made it easier to hide the truth.

Maverick was watching the whole scene play out in front of him, feeling the guilt bubble inside him knowing he was the reason his daughter and Bradley are no longer friends. He remembers how close they were as kids, how they never left each other’s side. He hopes this mission will bring them together again.

The night went on, he ended up being broke after not realizing the rules at Penny’s bar. Jake and the others had the joy of “throwing” him out of the bar. You knew it was all fun and games. You knew your dad took a liking to him after he saved your life that day. Even you let out a little laugh watching it all play out.

You heard a familiar tune starting to play in the background, you looked over to the piano and saw Bradley sitting there. The tune that your uncle Goose, Bradley’s dad always plays. You remembered how you and Bradley would sit on the piano with your dad, Uncle Goose and Aunt Carole gathered around singing “Great Balls of Fire” together. Your eyes wandered around and noticed your dad outside staring towards where Bradley is. You knew he misses them too.

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

You sat next to Jake and Javy waiting for the debrief to start. You had this feeling that something was going to happen today and it was not the good kind of feeling. You know Bradley will not be happy knowing who the instructor for the detachment is going to be. You also know he will be mad that you didn’t warn him. But he has no right to feel that way. After all, you two were basically on no speaking terms. Cyclone’s voice disrupted your thoughts. “Good morning aviators.”

At morning debriefing, Cyclone and Warlock went over the details of this mission. Just from hearing the details about what is going to happen, you knew this was going to be a detachment like no other. As he introduced who the instructor was going to be, you knew exactly who they were talking about, even though you already found out last night. You only know one person that fits the description so perfectly.

You couldn’t help but look over to Bradley, wondering how he is going to react when he sees your dad. You can see him tense up as he sees your dad walk in. This is going to be a very long day. Bradley made eye contact with you and he was not happy, just as you had predicted minutes ago. After the debrief, you and everyone else waited to be selected to go up in the air. First ones up were you, Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster.

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As you walked towards your fighter jet when you heard your name being called. “Why didn’t you tell me he was going to be the instructor?” You knew he was going to ask this. “How am I supposed to tell you if all we ever do is argue when we talk?” “Yea, well you’re the one that always starts it” “Are you serious Bradley? Look at us. Besides, would it really make a difference if I did?” “Yea, it actually would have.”

As the training session went on, no one has been able to get a lock on Maverick. not even you. You were close but he is always steps ahead. And thanks to the little bet, everyone was punished with 200 pushups.

Now it is time for Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, and Roosters turn. You listened to the radio as Jake asked Bradley some personal questions. There was one secret you never told Jake, it was the exact details about you, your dad, and Bradley. All he knows is you and Bradley had an argument, he left and that was that.

You heard your dad’s voice. Encouraging Bradley to take a little risk instead of playing it safe. Jake’s voice came in warning them about getting below the hard deck level amd telling Rooster to take the shot. Soon through the radio, you head the alerts going off telling them to pull up. You are holding your breath at this point. No matter how upset you were at Bradley, you didn’t want to lose him and your dad. A few seconds later, you heard your dad’s voice. He got a lock on Bradley. What on earth were they thinking?

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You stormed up to Bradley angry. “What was that Bradshaw?! Are you trying to get kicked out?” “Oh like you care, you probably would love to see me off this mission.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It’s like he never changed. “I worked hard to get here and you know it!” “Well not everyone is lucky enough to have their dad and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet as their teacher!” He snapped back. You froze, not believing the words that just came out of his mouth. Not wanting to continue this anymore, you shook your head and walked away in silence. You knew if you stayed longer, you would end up saying something you’d regret, and possibly escalating the argument.

“Why are you such close friends with Hangman? You know what type of person he is!” You stopped in your tracks. Why did he change the conversation to this? Was he jealous? You turned around facing him once again, letting out your anger. “You’re right, I know what type of person he is. You don’t! You let your judgments get clouded too easily, you’ll just assume the worst in people!” You saw the look Bradley had on his face, hearing him let out a scoff, “all he ever did was leave his wingman behind! Everyone knows that! Why won’t you believe me?!”

You don’t know what came over yourself. You’ve kept it in for years. Coming up with reasons why Bradley cut off contact with you, why he barely said anything to you during your time at Top Gun, why he treated you like you were nothing. He didn’t even believe you told him that you had nothing to do with his application being pulled. And now all of a sudden he cares about who you’re friends with. You knew what Hangman was like to others. That’s just a character he built up; he doesn’t want to seem weak or soft, easy to push around. Sure he messes around during training, but when it comes to the real thing, he takes things seriously.

“You want to know why? Fine. He never left me hanging! He didn’t cut off contact with me for something I didn’t do! He trusted me! He never assumed I got in just because of my last name! He didn’t hurt me the way you did!”

You were mad at your dad too, especially at first. But after a lot of begging, he finally told you why he pulled Bradley’s application; you understood, it was an extremely difficult decision. Adding on to it, it was his best friend’s dying wish.

You quickly walked away going to the locker rooms. You heard Bradley call out your name, but you chose to ignore it. Today did not turn out the way you had expected. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since the first time you saw Bradley in years and he is still the same.

Taglist: @alluringshawn @anurst @urmomssidehoesposts @sarahjoestewy-blog @adoringsebstan @70spadfoot @khaylin27

@littlebadariell @ems-alexandra

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw x y/n #pete mitchell x daughter!reader #bradley bradshaw x mitchell!reader #top gun imagines #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fics

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oliviaischillin1204 · 9 months

Text

wake up call

Pairing: Romantic Analogince (Roman/Virgil/Logan)

Word Count: 1,476 Words

roman is lee in like 70% of the fics i have drafted rn. i just want to Wreck him

"Is he seriously still asleep?"

Virgil's voice came from the direction of Roman's bedroom door. He couldn't look at him to check, but he could imagine the fondly exasperated look on Virgil's face as he watched Roman 'sleep'. He was lying on his stomach, his face shoved into a pillow, and even with his eyes innocently closed he could tell how bright it was in his bedroom. He was supposed to get up hours ago, yet here he was.

"I've knocked on his door three times, and nothing," Logan added. He must've joined Virgil in Roman's doorway; Roman felt his heart flutter a bit at the idea that his partners were both watching him sleep.

It was silent for a few long seconds. Roman thought they might've left again, until Virgil spoke.

"Well, you know he needs the sleep," he said, voice strangely measured. "He was up late last night, and we had a lot of work to do yesterday... and plus you tickled him for like an hour before he fell asleep."

Roman inhaled so quickly he nearly choked. Oh. Oh, fuck.

"Ah, yes, I'd almost forgotten about that," Logan continued. "Only because we do it so frequently, it's practically routine to tickle Roman to sleep every night."

Oh, fuck both of them. Roman absolutely was going to make them pay for this stunt later-- if he could get through this without blowing his cover.

"Yeah, he's pretty loud when he gets tickled," Virgil said. "I was in the kitchen with Patton and we both heard it. Kinda... squeal-y, and shriek-y."

"Ah, that must have been when he said he could keep his arms up for five minutes straight. I told him we could stick to gentler tickles to help him wind down, but you know how he is."

They both laughed lowly, and Roman could feel his face getting hot. It's one thing for the two of them to talk about him like he's not even there-- it's even worse when he can't even try to fight back in some way without ruining his plan.

"What was that one thing he does? When he drops his arms almost all the way down again 'cause it tickles too much, but then he just sorta folds his elbows over his face, like he's trying to hide? It's pretty freaking funny."

"Especially since it blocks his vision and prevents him front anticipating the other hand moving toward his torso. We had a lot of fun with that last night-- I believe I found a new freckle, above his right hip, that seemed to be quite sensitive to spider tickles."

Virgil snorted. "Oh, yeah? I'll have to remember that for later... poor little Princey. He has no idea what he's in for as soon as he wakes up."

No, no, no teasing. The butterflies fluttering around his stomach were already bad enough.

"Roman..." Logan's voice was nearly a coo, and Roman fought the urge to shiver as he suddenly realized his partner must be standing right by his bed. "I do hope you're not pretending to be asleep when we've asked you so politely to get up."

He felt the logical side move to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed. He considered throwing in a fake snore, but decided that would be too much.

Especially when, all of sudden, he felt Logan's hand running through his hair. And then he felt Logan's nails running through his hair.

It took every single thing in Roman not to squirm then and there and ruin the whole game.

"We miss you," Logan said softly, and really that wasn't even fair, because if they're planning what Roman knows they're planning, then he was purposefully trying to be romantic and gentle in that way that made Roman's heart flutter in his chest. Stupid smart boyfriends and their stupid observation skills.

Another dip on his other side told him Virgil had joined him on the bed; he forced himself to stay still when he felt a warm hand rub up and down his back. "We have literally nothing to do today. Give it up to Janus on finally booking in that self-care day. And if we do end up doing any work, then everyone is gonna get to see the genius ideas you came up with yesterday. You did good, Princey."

Bastards, bastards, bastards. Roman's tummy would be full of butterflies just from the compliments and validation alone. Pairing it with the gentlest of tickles was overkill.

He could just give in. Roll over, get good morning kisses from his two favorite people in the whole world, and return the love they've showered onto him tenfold. But no one ever accused Roman of giving up from a fight, so his eyes stayed closed and his breathing stayed measured.

At least, until Virgil suddenly curved his fingers so his nails were the ones running up and down Roman's back. He kept his hand right along the spine, which wasn't so bad for Roman, but with every motion he let his fingers creep closer, closer, closer to the backs of Roman's ribs. Those horrible, wonderful tickle spots that Roman was utterly incapable of ignoring. He felt himself begin to tremble, and he wondered if Virgil could feel it, too.

Logan hummed, and suddenly his hand had moved, too, to gently brush and wiggle against Roman's ear. He softly scratched below the lobe, where Roman's ear met his jawline.

It took everything in Roman not to smile, not to scrunch his neck up, not to laugh. He ached to laugh, to wiggle and kick his legs and squirm away from his lovers' hands... and maybe even to be held so tightly, wrapped up in someone's arms, while the other let their hands trail all over his body in retaliation for sleeping late. Or each of his partners could grab one wrist, keeping him so vulnerable between them as they take turns inspecting each one of his tickle spots. Maybe-

"Alright, enough of this," Virgil said, before shoving both arms under Roman's chest and flipping him over onto his back like a pancake. "Time to wake up."

Roman had approximately 0.1 seconds to take a deep breath before both Logan and Virgil dived in with reckless abandon. Gone were the gentle, soft, nearly soothing tickles they'd began with; now Logan was leaning over to dig his thumbs into Roman's underarms while Virgil vibrated his hands all over Roman's soft stomach.

Immediately Roman screamed, eyes shooting open and limbs desperately trying to coordinate some way to defend himself, but his barely-awake brain coupled with the devious double attack left him beyond delirious and without any way to save himself. Virgil leaned down, letting his own morning stubble graze Roman's side while he massaged his tummy, and Logan dropped himself down to murmurs soft coos into Roman's ear that he couldn't even comprehend over how much his warm breath set his ear and neck alight with tingles.

"Nahaha- wahaha- wait!" he gasped. The tickles slowed, but his partners didn't pull away.

"Wakey wakey," Virgil purred, leaning down to leave slow, soft kisses against Roman's midsection. Roman's legs kicked weakly.

"Not fair," he whined. His ear seemed to vibrate with the sound of Logan's low laughter, before he, too, was peppering the spot with gentle kisses. Roman snorted; he couldn't decide which way to move his head (towards the kisses or away from the tickles?). Luckily, Logan made the decision for him, pressing his mouth even closer to Roman's ear so he couldn't scrunch his neck.

"It's time to get up, darling."

Each syllable sent breath against Roman's ear and shivers run up and down his spine. It was horrible, absolutely horrible- Roman could do nothing but squeal and buck against the bed, where Virgil's own kisses and wandering hands were still attacking his tummy.

"Plehehease..." he begged. His smile nearly ached, but he couldn't feel anything other than the soft warmth that came from being adored by his partners. Blissfully, his partners seemed to listen: Logan pecked his kisses down until he was merely kissing Roman's shoulder through his shirt, and Virgil folded his hands and rested his chin on them as he smirked up at his bedraggled boyfriend.

"That was," Roman continued through catching his breath, "utterly uncalled for."

"We warned you, dude," Virgil shot back. "You could've gotten up at any time."

"I was asleep!"

Virgil snorted. "Uh huh."

"I was!"

"Whatever you say, dear," Logan murmured. Roman opened his mouth to continue arguing, but suddenly Logan was once again running his nails through Roman's hair, and any word of complaint disappeared as he moaned.

Virgil propped himself up further, and even in his blissed-out state Roman could make out the softness in his gaze.

"You know what? I think you should sleep in every day."

#my posts #my writing #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #sanders sides tickling #lee!roman #ler!virgil #ler!logan #drafted on december 27 2021 #wake up call

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