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drefear · 10 months

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Art Reference pt. 2

Miguel x Reader

TW: Smut, rough rough sex, jealousy, pooty eating miguel is superior.

This was a request about reader being an artist and Miguel finding out that they tried drawing him naked and he says some sly shit about it, which results into the nasty nasty.

A/N: so it's not the bedroom mirror sexy, but it is some sweaty sexy with hints of jealous/possessive miguel. idk i wanted to combine it with the other idea I had. so i hope yall enjoy.

Part one here

The days since Miguel found your sketchbook we’re filled with relentless sex, constantly pinned under the gargantuan man and being his sexual relief.

The Spider Society stayed business as usual.

At least to everyone else.

But a few of the spiderwomen noticed something different about you.

“Are those hickeys?” Jess asked, and your hand flew to your neck. Your face got a bit warm under your mask and you thanked the heavens that you’d just gotten back from hunting down an anomaly. She shook your head and laughed.

“What? No no.” You denied and looked away, waving to Ben.

“They look like hickeys.” She tilted her head and pressed on.

“They are.” A voice came from behind you and you both looked up at Miguel, who was just standing there with a cup of coffee in hand, looking too relaxed for what he just admitted.

“See, I knew they were!” Jess laughed and leaned towards you, making you edge backwards and laugh nervously. “So who are they?”

“It’s Noir, right?” Another voice pipped up and you turned to see Pav sitting down next to you.

Miguel’s face contorted as he watched you react. “Why would you think it’s him?” He asked and Pav smiled innocently.

“Have you seen how Noir looks at her? And how much the two talk about her art?” Pav points to your sketchbook, opening to a page with both Jess and Noir on it. “And she’s always drawing him.” Your eyes stayed trained on Miguel as his brows creased with frustrations. His sights flashed back up from the page to you, making your body tingle a bit.

“So I’m right, right?” Pav spoke up again and you just cleared your throat, gathering the papers and pencils you’d played across the table.

“I-I have work to do, I’ll talk to you guys later.” You mumbled under your breath and ora tu ally ran away. Once you were gone, Pav puffed out his chest.

“I’m definitely right.”

Miguel huffed as he stood in front of his screens a bit later, grouchy as ever. He felt a presence behind him and glanced, seeing Jess looming in the doorway.

“They’re your hickeys, right?” She concluded and he just grunted in confirmation. She walked closer and he stayed hunched over his desk, not moving his eyes from the moving screens. “Is it serious?” His silence was the only answer she got as she let out a pent up breath of understanding.

You two hadn’t discussed what you were doing, you just enjoyed what was going on. Or that’s what Miguel was doing.

He had no idea what you were thinking.

“Does Spider Noir actually have a crush on her?”

“Of course he does, half of the spider people here do. She’s incredible and smart, funny and creative.” Jess went on about your traits and Miguel just found himself getting more and more upset. “But she’s spending her time with you. So don’t fuck it up.” Jess said and turned to leave, then added as she walked. “She might have others wanting her attention soon, so step up to the plate.” And then the motorcyclist was gone, leaving Miguel to his thoughts.

“She’s right, ya know.” Miguel heard Lyla say and just groaned. He’d talk to you about it soon, he just didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

Two days later, Miguel had asked you to train with him a bit. He loved being around you and the two of you began doing mundane everyday activities together. To your surprise, MIguel actually had a sense of humor and smiled a lot when he wasn’t surrounded by people constantly chattering about things he found unimportant.

So you two decided to go to the gym together. It was something you’d done before, so today was no exception.

You started before he got there, moving to the weight rack and grabbing a few to start, slowly building up to a heavier pair. He walked in and saw you doing some squats with the weights and his eyes found something he wasn’t prepared to see.

You had camel toe. And he loved it.

Seeing the outline of your tight pussy made him bite his tongue to keep from acting out right here in the middle of his gym. The way you squatted and the lips moved slightly, covered by the blue spandex of your gym shorts made him lick his own lips.

He moved in next to you and made himself a little area near yours, beginning to focus on his own workout routine.

But he couldn’t.

Not when every time you walked away, all he thought about was diving into your sweet pussy and tasting your juices mixed with the musky sweat you’d been working up since you’d gotten here. His eyes practically rolled back at the thought of eating you out right here on the bench press, and he tried to subtly adjust his gym shorts. Closing his eyes, he shook his head and stood up. He grabbed your arm and pulled you aside, bending down to whisper.

“We’re leaving.” He announced and you were stunned, speechless. You’d been there for less than an hour, was he upset?

You followed him out, not daring to question him, and let him take you home. The car ride was silent as well, and the threads of doubt ran through your mind like a wild cheetah. Had you done something? Was this it? Was this the moment you’d been dreading, when he finally cut things off and told you it was all a mistake?

Meanwhile, Miguel was trying anything to hide his painful and obvious erection. You were either much more oblivious to how he felt about you than he’d initially thought, or being courteous so as to not make him feel embarrassed about being a grown man with a boner. He stomped into his apartment and stood by his dinner table, as you just shut the door behind him and waited to hear what he had to say.

He moved to face you and pinched the meat of your hips a bit, then bending down to get on his knees and glancing upward at you.

“God, I couldn't help it.” He moans and buries his nose into your clothed cunt. “You just look amazing.” His voice was splintered with lust as he begged. “I want to eat you out through these fucking leggings.” He lifted your hips and planted you on the dining table, licking against the middle of your pants. You gasped and leaned back on one hand as he rubbed his nose against your clit and you shook slightly. The middle of your workout pants were now soaked with his saliva, nipping the fabric with his teeth and sucking you through it.

“Smells amazing, tastes amazing. Could see the outline of my cunt while you were at the gym.” He grunted, rutting slightly against the chair next to him. “Yeah, this is my cunt. Mine to lick and fuck, no one else’s, not even fucking Noir.” He hissed and you began to understand where this had come from.

“Noir?” You questioned before sucking in a sharp breath while he put your spandex covered thighs on his shoulders.

“Mmm, that black and white cabrón. He couldn’t handle this pussy, the way you clamp down on me and make it hard to fuck you. He couldn’t make you scream for hours, like how only I can. Solo mia.” Miguel rambled, as he did often hen he was in the process of fucking you somehow. “Just you, Miguel- fuck.” You nodded as your fingers found his hair and tangled into the roots. He let his claws out for a second before moving his talons and ripping down the center of the leggings, letting the cool air blow onto your exposed cunt. “So wet…” He marveled and bit his lip. You whined out and stared down at the shredded fabric in his hands. “I’ll get you new ones, just let me fucking have this pussy.”

His red eyes looked as if you could swim in them, deadly and focused on you. You clenched around nothing as he continued to watch how your muscles moved, mesmerized by how needy you looked writhing on his table with your most intimate area in his face. His nose nudged against your clit and electric shocks sparked through your spine, making you arch your back in pleasure and a growl rumbled through his chest.

“He’s too vanilla for you, isn’t that right?” He cooed and dragged a hand up your torso, then back down to your thigh by his head and sinking his claws into the skin, making angry red marks appear. You gasped and nodded with haste.

“Yes! Yes, yes…” You repeated the word like a prayer as he smirked and languidly lapped at your folds. You felt gross, sweaty from your brief workout and letting him eat you out this way. “Miguel- wait-” You pushed his head a bit, now insecure, and he nipped at the skin in the crease of your inner thigh. “Ah!”

“Are you trying to push me away, mi corazon? Don’t you want me to tongue-fuck you?” His hands gripped your thighs tighter and slid your squirming body back down towards his face. You mewled and nodded.

“But- Miguel, I’m sweaty and-”

“That’s what I want.” He stated, as if it was as plain as day and wrapped his lips around your heat once more, tongue shooting inside of you and exploring around to find where made you scream the loudest. His teeth grazed your clit and there was an inevitable snap in your core, making your eyes only see white for a moment as he groaned, feeling your juices flood his mouth.

He pulled away and stood up, eyeing your out-of-breath form as your eyes met and he made a show of licking your cum off of his lips, then wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You shivered as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up to meet his lips, tasting yourself as you kissed him gently.

“I bet Noir couldn’t make you cum like that with just his mouth.” he smirked and whispered as you sighed happily.

“Why do you keep bringing him up?”

“Because you draw him a lot.”

“No, I draw you a lot. I drew him to help me practice shading.” You clarify and Miguel feels himself get embarrassed as you finally put it all together. “Are you jealous?”

“Well, I’m not- I don’t think I have the right to be jealous.” He muses, seeing how you’d answer and you hum a bit, smiling again.

“You’re right. You don’t.” Your words leave him slightly hurt for a moment, until you continue, “unless you had feelings for me, which then it would be totally understandable to be jealous.” You watched how his eyes became amused and intrigued.

“Oh yeah?” He playfully spoke as he lifted you up into his arms and moved to his couch, leaning you down and dropping you to the cushions. With the midsection of your leggings turned into ribbons, you sat with your core completely on display for him as he stood looking down at your body. “Well, now, if I did have feelings for you, would you reciprocate them?”

“I might, especially seeing how crazy and sexy you get when you’re jealous.” You pull his hands to make him balance on top of you, now caging you onto the couch with his arms by your head. “You think me tearing open your clothes and making sure you know that you’re mine is sexy?” He repeated, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as you laughed and nodded.

“I think that you wanting me is sexy.”

“That makes sense.” He admitted and you laughed harder, not able to hide your enjoyment. “So. I like you, you like me. What are we going to do about it?” He mused and bent down further to capture your lips, but you moved to flip him onto the ground before he could make it to his destination. Straddling him now and staying close to his face, you bit his bottom lip with your teeth. Letting go, you grinned like a mad woman.

“I’m going to prove that you’re also mine.”

tag list: @ruletarts @andyshitposts @thepowerthismanhasoverme @chshiresins @cellgore @sukioyakio @stinygirl009 @freshtoes

#miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #atsv miguel

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hedonistbyheart · 2 years

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If I had a nickel every time Charles Dickens had arranged a multigendered polycyle to distract from two of the characters being very queer together, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice.

#first pip and herbert #now ester and ada #i love this trick please keep doing it chuck #it's very bi #i'm reading bleak house lol #literary chatter

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comicaurora · 8 months

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tldr I committed to a bit too hard

The slow-dawning sunlight dappled down through dense, rich foliage, scattering golden lace across mossy trunks and grassy hillocks. The light caught on the forest floor in a thousand glassy dewdrops and bent, fisheyed, in globed inversions of the canopy above.

No breeze stirred the forest so early in the morning, but a thin mist gathered in the valley under the warming air. Sunbeams lanced through the fog, pale in the dawn but soon to brighten and intensify. For now, the air was damp and cool and still, and the scent of the night lingered.

Pip bent a pawful of grass to the side and sniffed the air suspiciously.

It was too quiet, too still. And with no wind, she couldn't mark the position of the strange beasts and their odd, dusty, acrid scent that had no place in these woods. It hung low and directionless over the peaceful morning, distant but permeating, like a faraway fire.

She adjusted her backslung blade, wrapped her cloak closer around her and dropped onto all fours, nose pointed straight ahead and whiskers standing at attention. Her dusty green-gray wrap would shield her from all but the most attentive prying eyes, and - she quirked an ear, just to be sure of the silence - most of the forest was still asleep, unlikely to mark her passage.

She managed to stifle a flinch as a sound that wasn't a sound bypassed her ears and rang straight into her head.

Pip? Where'd you go?

She exhaled softly through her nose, the barest expression of frustration she allowed herself.

Scouting, Alder. Go back to sleep.

She set off before he could reply, scurrying silently along the mossy forest floor, tracing a sinuous route through the canopy's shadow to stay out of the slow-brightening sunbeams.

Scouting?!

The thought squeaked with disbelief. She didn't answer it.

Alder never had fewer than three thoughts at a time, and the more agitated he became, the harder they became to sort through. A jumble rang in her skull, a snatch of Eldest told us- and moves like thunder and have to hide, that last one echoing in six different ways with the significance it held in his mind. She concentrated on tracing her silent route, one shadow to the next, and came to a stop under a broad-leafed stalk as Alder's distress built to a crescendo.

If she kept moving, eventually she'd slip out of his range. Wasn't that a tempting thought.

I said go back to sleep, she sent, and with an afterthought of inexpert kindness, added I'm being careful. It'll be fine.

The chattering ground to a halt, and she felt the effort it took him to focus his thoughts down to a single thread. Come back, Pip. We have to stay hidden until they're all gone.

We can't hide if we don't know where they are.

Pip caught the beginning of his protest and shook herself violently, breaking off the connection. It was rude, she knew; closing her mind completely was one of her rarer talents, but unlike her other oddities, this one she wasn't particularly respected for. Her skills as a scout were admired precisely because she had such sharp senses, physical and mental both - some days she could even hear the slow, tangled thoughts of the Long Shadows - but when she didn't want to be disturbed, she could wall herself off from the others as thoroughly as if she'd been on the other side of the forest.

And right now, picking her way between treetrunks and sniffing her way towards the bizarre menagerie that had invaded her forest, the last thing she wanted was to be disturbed.

Her right forepaw sank in unexpectedly soft soil, and she recoiled with a stifled gasp. Her eyes darted across the swath of ground, analyzing its shape - and then she widened her scope, scanning the yards beyond that first strange softness. In a low-lying, hollowed track between two thick-rooted trees, the carpet of grass and flowers were flattened and crushed into a felted mat, mud bubbling through it in irregular patches like sickness in a wound. A wide track had been beaten into the soil by dozens - at least dozens, she amended - of flat-pawed creatures. Their dusty, acrid stink lay heavily over it.

She drew back from the unnaturally soft soil. Even with her diminutive size and weight, there was the risk of getting mired in unexpectedly watery ground, and while rescue was never far away in these woods, she certainly didn't want to weather Alder's overconcern or Eldest Luma's quietly smug passivity. Instead she skirted towards a point where the track narrowed, lashed her tail for a momentary burst in balance, then sprang over the mud and latched onto a tree root on the other side, freshly ripped free from the soil and scored with dozens of thin scars from the claws of the marching creatures. She scurried up and settled at the tree's base, where the gnarled roots tangled into a more-than-sturdy foothold overhanging the morass.

With the newfound advantage of height, she surveyed the terrain. The tracks overlapped one another in a mad scramble, pouring up from the lowland forest and curving up and away.

They moved with surprising organization for such motley creatures. She counted at least four very different sizes of print in the track, some barely longer than her own body (nose to the base of her tail) while some were large enough to crush her underfoot without even noticing.

The tracks were only a few hours old. The swarm must have passed in the early pre-dawn. She strained her memory to try and recall if she'd felt any tremors from down in the sleep-halls of the hollow, but if she were honest with herself, they were too far down and too well-insulated by the soft soil walls to have marked their passage.

She turned her attention to where the trail vanished from sight, curving over and up the slope. The land in that direction was treacherous and, to the mind of her people, best avoided. Gravel slips and rain rivulets ran down between the massive plates of rock that jutted out of the soil, and even though trees and flowers overgrew them, their roots could not be trusted to hold the ground together enough for safe passage of one of her size. Fresh rainfall unearthed and dislodged glassy chips of stone, and the soil turned to mud and slipped between the boulders, exposing treacherous chasms that could swallow an unwary traveler. The shattered earth built up and up until it abruptly skewed and slanted down in a gentle curve, like the ground had been struck with a terrible force and the shattering had rippled out from the center. And in the heart of that broken land, glimpsed fearfully from treetops or the shadow of the stones, lay the stronghold of the Long Shadows.

Once, long redmoons ago, Pip had traveled three days and nights to scale the shattered peaks herself, to see the stronghold with her own eyes (mostly due to a burst of rebellious curiosity after a scolding from Eldest Luma). The works of the Long Shadows could always be distinguished from natural formations or nests - they had a love of smooth things, and the stone they shaped stretched cleanly skyward and bore no footholds beyond the straight, geometric fissures that ran up and through them. So Pip already knew that the stronghold was encircled by a massive shadowcrafted cliff, pale and smooth as ice and taller than trees, and it surrounded the entire stronghold just behind the shattered peaks. Beyond the wall, great columns and cliffs jutted skyward, more smooth handicraft of the Long Shadows. At times they were even spotted outside the walls, tending great swaths of land in the same precise straight lines they shaped their stone. Those tracts bore vast quantities of food in unnatural abundance, some that grew nowhere else in the valley, but the Long Shadows guarded them closely and harshly punished intrusion, and the Eldest three generations before Luma had forbade anyone from entering (or even approaching) their strange geometric works, no matter how lean the winters became.

She debated following the trail. It would inexorably lead her towards the stronghold, but if the creatures were focused solely on the Long Shadows, that was valuable information to bring back to the hollow. No doubt Eldest Luma would be pleased to have yet another reason to avoid the Long Shadows and their works.

A sudden awareness prickled in the small of Pip's back, shivering up into her ears and all the way down to the tip of her tail. Her gray fur bristled and she froze, eyes darting wildly, seeking the source. The feeling had no obvious impetus, but she trusted her tail with her life, and something was happening. Something sourceless, something…

At the base of the root she was balanced on, a sprout punctured the trodden soil and curled upwards, splitting into pairs of pale green leaves. She watched as it climbed to twice her height in less than three beats of her racing heart.

Instinct took over. She scampered up the tree like a shot, finding footholds in the bark with a practiced ease that belied her jolting terror. She plunged into the safety of the leafshadow and clung to a branch, breathing fast and shallow and trying very hard to stay quiet.

Below her, a green carpet spread across the mire as grass and flowers bloomed impossibly fast.

The Weeping Shadow was approaching.

Pip strained her ears and caught the hint of a whisper of movement through the grass, distant and soft but certainly coming closer. It was pointless to cast her eyes towards the darkness - The Weeping Shadow was, in the stories, always swathed in gray, near invisible in the shadow of the canopy, and it passed in many tales without a trace, save for its flowering footsteps as its passage drove the forest to frenzy.

But it never came so close to the stronghold. The Weeping Shadow's domain was the deep and tangled woods, much further into the valley than even the hollow. It haunted the river and the wild places, and its realm was thick with plants of impossible vitality and sweetness - but not even the bravest scout dared its domain, even when hunger was rampant. The fruits of the Weeping Shadow's realm were steeped in an absolute sorrow whose depth defied comprehension, and the slow pulse of its thoughts churned in dark and wrenching misery that could be heard across half the valley. It was too much for the mind to take for long, and scouts that had strayed into its influence took moons to recover from the borrowed grief.

That had been the prickling on Pip's neck. The slow approach of the Weeping Shadow was already casting a pallor on her mind - and it was getting closer.

Pip's thoughts scrambled for her next move. If she stayed hidden, the Weeping Shadow would pass nearer to her than anyone had ever dared. She flattened her ears against her head and focused on the walls around her mind. Could she close herself to it strongly enough to hold out?

A wild fear beat against her ribs. She wanted to stay clinging to this branch forever, but she also wanted to bolt, to sprint the length of the branch and fling herself into open space, trusting the soft soil to cushion her fall - or rather, if she were honest with herself in that moment, heedless of what the fall might do to her. The desperate urge to flee was strong in her people, and here, faced with a terror closer than ever before, it was nigh overwhelming.

But Pip had a third instinct that overruled all others when she allowed it, and it had been slowly growing in her mind ever since she'd slipped from the hollow before the dawn. It was a hunger, of a sort, and one that warred always with fear. The hunger was curiosity, a thrumming urge for exploration and understanding that spurred her on through peril and dark for the promise of clarity on the other side.

The beasts in her forest were descending on the stronghold, and their passage had stirred the Weeping Shadow from its domain. Something was happening - something vast, something perhaps unknowable. But it would certainly stay unknowable if she didn't even try to know it.

And perhaps the Weeping Shadow knew.

Pip had more control than most over the openness of her mind. It alarmed her peers, sometimes, that she could pass among them in silence, unreceptive to their soundless speech. It unnerved them more, for those who knew - from a time when she was more open with her secrets and her strangeness - that she could at times hear the deep thoughts of the Long Shadows, and stranger still, sometimes even catch a shred of their meaning. The idea that the minds of the Long Shadows could in any way compare to the bright, clear thoughts of her people was on the surface laughable, and just under that surface, frightening. Still, she knew it was true. Their minds were dark, slow places, but they contained meaning and knowledge, most beyond the reckoning of her kind.

The mind of the Weeping Shadow was an abyss of grief and sorrow, but if she could attune her senses to it - if she could withstand its pressure - she could, perhaps, glean its purpose in the shattered peaks, and what it knew of the creatures that she pursued.

The underbrush cracked. Pip flattened herself against the branch and peered intently at the sound as the rolling wave of green spread under the tree, blanketing in every direction.

A shape moved in the shadow of the trees, ponderous and slow.

Pip felt her eyes grow hot and stinging, the space behind them heavy with unshed tears. A borrowed bottomless grief encroached on the walls of her mind, lapping at it like a swelling river threatening its banks.

The Weeping Shadow broke from the treeline and stepped forward.

It towered, even from Pip's high vantage point. It was gray and still and almost shapeless in the dim of the canopy, but twin lights glimmered near its summit, pale green like the sprouts boiling at its feet.

Pip's head pounded. The pressure of its presence was terrible. It was vast, yes, but the power of the sorrow within it seemed vaster still - like all the forest around it was desperate to weep, and the Shadow was the only part of it that could, yet it refused to.

The Shadow tilted its head down, and the lights of its eyes vanished in the gloom. But it was not weeping, Pip knew. It was… looking.

Looking at the tracks under its carpet of grass.

Pip gritted her teeth, gripped the branch, and opened her mind.

It was gentler than she had anticipated. The pressure and power was indescribable, but once she stopped trying to push it back, she found it moved her rather like water would - with force, but without pain. It was almost easy to let the thoughts of this vast creature buffet her where they would.

The words in the Weeping Shadow's mind were unknown to her, but she felt a snatch of them repeating over and over again. The words mattered less than the feeling that drove them, and as she focused, she realized that the Weeping Shadow was, in some way, at war with itself; the thoughts were not all in agreement. The repetition smelled of deep, old terror, but its loop was broken over and over again by a different, newer thought - one that Pip herself was intimately familiar with, strong enough that she needed no translation to parse it:

But I can help.

Dimly, in her faraway body, she felt tears pouring from her, hot and desperate from a grief she couldn't fathom. Her claws gripped the bark of the branch. The Weeping Shadow's thoughts, at the moment, were focused on its inner war, but it did nothing to shield Pip from the substrate of its misery. Still, she was onto something. If she could just push through, she might learn what the Weeping Shadow understood of the intruders to their forest.

Pip dug deeper. The Weeping Shadow knew what these creatures were - knew what they intended - believed it could help in some way - but what did it know of them?

Running below the looping dread and the punctuating bursts of hope, Pip glimpsed a glimmering ribbon of understanding wending its way just below the Weeping Shadow's conscious thought. It snaked under the fear, coiled around the thought of help. This had to be the knowledge that had motivated the Weeping Shadow's unheard-of migration. This was the mystery of the creatures answered.

This, perhaps, was Pip's only mistake. As she caught the thread of that understanding, it abruptly yanked against the current and plunged her down, down, down into the icy depth of the Weeping Shadow's truest misery. Its knowledge of these creatures came from the same bone-deep wellspring as the torrent of tears, and Pip screamed aloud as it battered her mind full-force. Alien thoughts crashed against her, unbearably loud; the grinding of bone, the shifting of stone, the pounding of waves greater than any river, the splintering of mighty trees. A twisting, a breaking - a power like a maddened, wild animal, thrashing and uncontrollable, kept in check only by its own terrible exhaustion and grief. She was so, so small, and somehow in the depths of this vastness she was even further diminished, crushed to a single point of light-

And something was watching her.

With a last mighty burst of willpower she released the thought-thread, flung herself away, and tumbled off the branch. It was something of a mercy that she was too stunned to feel the impact, and the carpet of seedlings cushioned her fall.

The first thing she became aware of was her breathing, high and fast and shallow in time with her racing heartbeat, real panic and borrowed sorrow draining away with shocking rapidity. Second, she felt the pain; her head pounding with spent exhaustion, her paws cramped in every joint, her back and shoulders bruised from where the impact of the fall had driven her scabbarded blade against her spine.

The third thing she became aware of was the shadow stretching towards her, claws stretched as long as her whole body, the deep purple of the skies after dusk.

The Weeping Shadow loomed over her, vaster than mountains. Two points of green pierced out from the dark.

She ran.

#aurora #prose writing #look. I have no explanation #well no I do have an explanation #and I'm curious if this makes literally any sense to anyone but me #but I had fun and that's what counts #pip's fine I have plenty more ideas for her

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fili-urzudel · 6 months

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Hii! Congrats on 50 followers!!! 💜 for the prompts list thing, could you do like. Any of them with Pippin? also the forehead touch prompt is so cute please I can’t 😭

I don't often have ideas for Pippin, so this was a treat to write! Just for everyone to know, I'm not answering requests in order. This just happened to be the quickest one to write. Since I had my pick of prompts, I decided to do one I didn't think would get much attention. I hope you like it!

10. Piggyback Rides

Warnings: Very brief insecurity

Word Count: 0.7k

Burden - Peregrin Took

Boromir had been your friend ever since he had helped you become a member of the King's—or the Steward's, you supposed—Guard. His perseverance paid off, as you were now one of the most capable guards and most loyal to him. You were honored to be asked to accompany him to the meeting in Rivendell.

That was where you first met the Hobbits. Your first impression was that, well, they were awfully small. You could tell that Boromir shared your concern for their safety. It was difficult to not view them as children, and you wondered how on earth you were going to keep the poor little lads safe when so many things threatened you all. So you resolved to do anything you could to keep them up on their strength and their fighting prowess.

You had an especially soft spot for Peregrin, or Pippin, as he called himself. He was the youngest of the group, and you couldn't help but be especially fond of him and his antics. Gandalf always rolled his eyes when you shot him looks for his poor treatment of the kid, but he always eased up afterward. You supposed that was part of the reason he kept quiet on this particular occasion.

The others, however, did not.

"It's unwise to expend your energy in such a way, mellon nin," Legolas pointed out as you once again readjusted Pippin as he rode on your back.

"Aye, he's right," Gimli agreed. "He's got his own legs, y'know."

"He's tired," you argued. "We've been sword training. Not to mention, his legs are much shorter than ours, you can't expect him to keep up without a little extra help."

"The others seem to be getting on just fine," Aragorn pointed out, but his smile betrayed his thoughts on the matter.

"Well, I'll carry the others as well, if they want," you said stubbornly.

"I'll carry two and you carry two," Boromir said, chuckling but clearly serious.

"That's alright," Frodo interjected.

"I wouldn't be opposed," Merry commented, and Sam bumped him with his elbow. "It's not necessary, though."

You thought it was strange how quiet Pip was on the matter. He was quite the chatterbox, most of the time. Perhaps he was just embarrassed.

"He's fallen asleep," Boromir leaned over to whisper to you, a smile clear in his voice.

"Aw," you cooed, now extra careful to avoid jostling him more than necessary.

"You cannae do that forever, lass," Gimli warned you.

"Ah, but each time I do, I get a little stronger, so perhaps one day I can," you suggested brightly.

"It's a good thing I've practiced for this," you said with glee, teeth chattering as the fellowship traversed the treacherous mountain pass. You and Boromir had stayed true to your word, and Aragorn had joined your little pact. You carried Pippin still, Aragorn carrying Sam and Frodo, one on each arm, and Boromir holding onto Merry.

"You can put me down as soon as you're able," Pippin said suddenly. "You must be getting tired, and I—I can make it on my own."

"Nonsense, little one," you said, the cold making it hard to hold a smile, however much you wanted to. "I could carry you to the ends of the earth under one arm."

"I just don't want to burden you."

You tilted your head down, finding a temporary respite from the wind by setting your forehead against his. "You could never burden me, Pippin.

"I'm just trying to help you do the great things I know you can do." You weren't quite sure what those things were yet, but if there was one thing you learned growing up, it was that a little encouragement never hurt anyone. "But if you want to walk by yourself, I'll set you down as soon as the snow is shallow enough. Unless you have the elven secret to floating atop it?"

Pippin laughed, his wind-bitten cheeks a frosty red. "Not yet, but I'll try to figure it out."

#lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #lotr headcanons #hobbit x reader #peregrin took x reader #pippin took x reader #pippin x reader #pippin lotr x reader #pippin lotr #peregrin took #platonic lotr #platonic fanfiction

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destroyallhumans · 2 years

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if i had a penny every time finn wolfhard was in a piece of media set in the 80s where his character was friends with an outcast called Eddie, I would have two coins. which isnt a lot but it’s weird its happened twice

#stranger things #it 2017 #tv #movies #finn wolfhard #pip chatters

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thelunarsystemwrites · 2 months

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Beauty might be simple.

Dust had seen... a lot, of alternative universes. There were ones where his kind starved, where monsters had wings or fishy tails. He's seen ones where roles seemed to be reversed, or interchanged.

But... out of everything, he never considered one where...

Bunnies?

Dust was staring at a field of flowers, where—If he was guessing somewhat correctly. These... bunnies, were... fighting?

On one side, had these extra round creatures that had similarities to the Stars. While the other ones held closer to the bad Sanses, such as himself...

Man, they sucked at fighting.

The... Ink, one? Was flipped over on his back, his tiny little stubby legs kicked effortlessly. The one that looked like Killer paused mid battle to start cleaning his paws. The Swap one was... either pushing, or nuzzling one that looked like Horror. And, these things were small. The size of kitten at best. Plus... they were so round? Why were they so round?

Either way, Dust scoffed. Apparently these things could talk, too, or atleast one of them—as the goofy Nightmare one was screeching.

"N-No, you fools! Get back into battle!" He yelled, his voice pip squeak. While the Dream one was trying to flip over Ink, failing miserably and flipping over himself. He made tiny distressed yips, before getting distracted by a butterfly, flipping on his feet again and following it while hopping.

Dust sighed, coming closer. He just needed to find wherever the fuck Killer went, his Killer. And they could go home.

The Nightmare one looked at him, and hissed. Instead of tendrils, it just had a lot of floppy ears. "A mortal! Retreat you buffoons!" He demanded, teleporting away before Dust could get a word out.

He groaned. "Killer!" He called out again, hoping he hadn't run off too far.

As he approached, the bunnies all started looking at him. Their little chattering went down, as they began to hop over to him, quite literally bouncing.

"...ugh." Was all he managed out, these things.. they were nuzzling him? Being oddly affectionate.

One, the Killer one, started nibbling on his shoe, causing him to try and kick it away. "Stop that..." He murmured, the bunny just bounced like a ball...

Weird.

Russeling came behind him, and he snapped over with a sharpened bone ready to defend himself—

Boop.

Dust was put face to face with Killer, who held a bunny that looked like... him.

"...You shouldn't sneak up on me." He lowered his weapon, as Killer chuckled a bit.

"Dust! Look, it's you!" He said in a teasing manner, shoving them into his arms.

"H-Hey!" Dust tried to drop it, but his arms tensed for a second...

It was just, so soft... like a marshmallow.

Killer giggled, before gasping, "THERE'S MINE!" He scooped up the bunny that looked like him, squshing it on his face.

"We're not keeping them." Dust declared as he finally set the Dust one down.

"Oh c'mon! Wouldn't be the first time we kidnapped something from an AU!~" Killer was now trying to hold Dust, and Horror bunny as well.

"No." Dust, the actual one, crossed his arms and gave a stern look.

Killer pouted, metaphorically jiggling them in his arms as he opened his jacket to stick them in.

"...Don't." Dust warned, as Killer cheered when he got them into it, zipping it up, their three little faces stuck out in front of his face.

"Yup, doing it."

Dust groaned. "...fine." He stuck his hands hands his pocket, looking away, down towards the star ones. The ink one was still stuck on his back, but fell asleep cuddling up to the Swap and Dream one...

It was almost cute.

He sighed. "Let's just get back... I swear if one of those things poop in the castle..." He muttered as he helped Killer pushed the bunnies to be more hidden.

"Heh, got it!"

And with that, they teleported home.

(Inspired by @ant1quarian!)

#biblically inaccurate bunny #dust sans #killer sans #Biblically inaccurate bunny Dust #BIBs #There's just a lot of bunnies #Bunny #Bunnies #Utmv #Aus #sans aus #undertale aus #fiction writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #Fic #ficlet

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cubeshapedlemon · 7 days

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A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening

Norm gets transferred into another new job, in the agricultural sector. As much as he loathes working, he finds another reason to keep coming in.

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Norm Maclean x Chubby!f!reader

4.6k words

cw and tags: smut, fluff, lots of hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting (f receiving), piv, flirting, boss/employee romance (it's not a inappropriate power dynamic thing its just how the plot shakes out), breif cum eating, coming untouched, sub!norm, dom!reader, mommy kink

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authors note: heyy yall!!! this fic took longer than the last one cuz yk life but its still out earlier than i thought it would be. The fallout brainrot has been intense and norm deserves some love!!! please tell me if I missed anything in the tags or spelling/grammatical errors. And just as a reminder my asks are always open!!! please send me requests!!! (info in pinned post) I am starting on a new (requested) norm fic pretty much as soon as I have the time. Anywho, check out my masterlist this fic and any others that i post will be updated there. Enjoy!

☆Reader pov☆

It wasn't every day someone new got rotated into one of the agriculture related jobs. It wasn't exactly appealing to most. But for you, you couldn't imagine doing anything else. Maybe that's why they placed him here, hoping your enthusiasm would rub off on him

The him, of course, being Norm Maclean. While the rest of the Maclean’s have a reputation of being dedicated hard workers, this trait was not held by the youngest of them. He didn't seem to be truly interested in anything, most of the time just fiddling with his Pip-Boy playing whatever game he had recently gotten.

When the council told you about the switch you were initially frustrated, hearing some chatter about how much he loathed every job placement he found himself in. If you remember your days of schooling together that sounds about right. While he was always exceptionally bright, he never seemed motivated to use it anywhere. Hopefully you could change that now.

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☆Norm's pov☆

Waking up today Norm managed to be in an even worse mood than normal. Yesterday's meeting with the council was pretty similar to the ones in the past. They berate him politely for a while, look over his performance review, chat in whispers to each other, and then reassign him.

Though, this time they had decided to do things slightly differently. Usually they would assign him to a specific job, this time they just decided to send him to the agriculture sector, it now being the agricultural manager's job to figure out where he needs to go. Must be tired of handling specifics after reassigning him twelve times now.

Anyway, no use in dwelling on yesterday. Norm lazily drags himself out of bed, taking a quick shower before dressing himself and digging around in the fridge for some of the leftover Cram from dinner last night. Making no haste at all, he eventually makes his way to his new job. Only a few minutes late.

Looking around, he sees everyone else already at work, doing whatever it is they are supposed to do, occasionally stopping to have a quick chat with someone nearby. In his scan he sees someone walking towards him. Figuring she's the agricultural manager he was supposed to meet he gives a tight-lipped smile and an awkward wave. She responds with a polite smile of her own.

Her walk is confident, hips swaying. She is built with clear strength in her, because of all the farmwork, Norm figures, despite this, her figure is still plush in all the right places. She has a bright, but powerful air around her.

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☆Reader pov☆

Looking him up and down, Norm doesn't seem to have changed much. While obviously he looks older now, his slight figure and short stature are much the same, his permanent scowl still there too. “Well, if it isn't Norm Maclean,” you say, offering your hand to shake. Taking it, he gives what seems like a sarcastic smile, greeting you by name as well.

Brushing that off for now, you continue. “As I'm sure is clear by now, you will be working under me. For the next few days, we will just be figuring out where to place you job-wise. How does that sound?” you ask, keeping a polite, professional tone.

“Just peachy,” he responds with a sarcastically congenial tone. He really had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He needs someone to mold him, and you are happy to take on that role. While his underlying insecurity is clear, he has a smugness when it comes to work that needs to be broken. And you know just how to do that.

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☆Norm pov☆

Walking into work the next day Norm is greeted by you, your energy dimmer than yesterday. “You ready to start training?” you ask, no smile, no wave or handshake. Something deep inside him pangs, he had no commitment to this job, just the same as his last. But in some vague way the idea that he had already disappointed you sits like lead in his stomach. Attempting to shake off that feeling, he tries to go back to his usual unwilling, and uninterested mood.

The first day is pretty simple. It mostly consists of him following you around and listening to you ramble off rules, policies and how the different systems work. When you get to the point where you are explaining the machine maintenance, his interest piques. You would think after being rotated through jobs enough times this would have happened once or twice. Evidently it had not. Though rather disappointingly, you move on swiftly.

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The following days were grueling. Grueling might be an overstatement, they were difficult. But he had some very enthusiastic help. You were always there to lend a helping hand on whatever task he was struggling at that moment. Many of those tasks being strength-based.

It's not like Norm was out of shape or anything, he just wasn't exactly on your level muscle wise. He would be lying if he said it wasn't nice on some level to see you walk over him with a sarcastic grin every time he struggled to lift something. Just like now in fact, as he struggles to move a particularly heavy crate.

“Need some help there pretty boy?” you come over chuckling, a blush rises to his face at your nickname.“Yes, please. Thank you,” he smiles, looking up at you. Smiling back at him you grab onto the crate, lifting it and setting it on your hip with only a small grunt of effort. “Walk with me,” you say, nodding your head at him as you walk to bring the crate to its home.

☆Reader pov☆

Keeping your pace you wait for Norm to follow you, after a moment or two he joins you at your side. “So, I've been thinking,” you drawl, attempting to get his full attention. “Yes?” he says, probably quicker than he meant to. His tone is clearly eager, but covered with a light veil of his usual sarcasm.

“I think I want to place you in repairs and data entry. You seem to be good at it, does that sound good to you?” you ask, already knowing what his answer will be. “Yes! I mean yeah, that sounds good. When do I start?” Norm looks up at you with gratitude, his too-cool facade breaking in favor of a sly-looking but genuine smile.

“You can start tomorrow,” you say, setting the crate down in its rightful place, turning now to face him. “I still have to get my use outta’ you here before I send you away,” you joke, giving him a smirk of your own. The blush on his face deepens, clearly taking your phrasing in a certain way. He turns his head to the side in a poor attempt to hide it. Deciding to tease him a bit more, you run your fingers through his hair before grasping at the roots. “You getting shy on me now, pretty boy?”

Norm's breath audibly hitches for a moment, his adam's apple bobbing in an almost comical fashion. “No,” he replies, if he was trying to sound convincing you couldn't tell, his tone a simpering whine compared to his usual one. “Sure, sure,” you concede sarcastically, letting go of his hair. “Come on now, there's still work to be done.” you give a playful pat on one of his cheeks before walking ahead a few paces. Not hearing him follow, you turn your head slightly to the side. “You coming Maclean?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Norm quickly answers, moving to follow you now.

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☆Norm pov☆

For the rest of the day Norm finds himself being exceedingly pathetic. While of course he has had crushes and flings in the past, the one he has now is different. In many ways it embarrassed him. Following the cliché of the dainty damsel in distress and the big strong hero coming in to save and woo her. He of course is the damsel, and the source of distress is just being bad at his job. Anyway, it fits it well enough. He truly did feel like the stereotypical damsel in this situation, he is a fully capable adult and yet he found himself so whipped for his ‘hero’ that he could not get anything done.

He spent the rest of the day periodically doing something of the smallest bit of use. But the majority of the time he was not-so-subtlety checking you out. At some point, you had pulled down your vault suit, tying it at your waist. This gave him a perfect view of your arms as you worked. Every once and a while you would catch him staring, chuckling at his desperate expression and embarrassment at being caught.

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Moving into his new job position, Norm quickly finds himself at home. There are only one or two other people in his same position so much of the day is just peaceful work on his own. While he does talk to and get along with his coworkers the person he really likes talking to is you. You check in with him in the morning before his shift, asking him how his day is going. All polite chatter with a cheek-burning innuendo slipped in every once and a while. Of course he finds ways to keep that conversation going when he can.

If only he had an inch more confidence. He would return your affections. He tells himself that you're probably just being polite, just regular friendly interactions. The fact that there had been a recent uptick in broken machinery that only he could fix was a coincidence. So was you just feeling like wearing a particularly low cut undershirt on days you felt like checking in on him more than normal. And how your hand always found itself on his lower back while he explained a maintenance issue to you.

You know, super platonic boss stuff. This routine sticks around. You continue with your usual flirts, flounces, and pet names. Oh god, the pet names. You seemed to be laying more on in every single conversation, not that Norm's complaining. After a little while he gains the confidence to flirt back a bit. If you can call his attempts flirting. He figures you get the message.

Today looks to be starting much of the same. Walking into the break room, he starts his regular routine. Putting his lunch in the fridge, making some coffee, and of course, talking with you when you come in three, two, one…

☆Reader pov☆

“Hey pretty boy,” you greet, as usual. “Morning ma'am” he responds respectfully. “Oh come on Norm, you know you don't have to call me ma'am,” You scoff, rolling your eyes at his formality. He chuckles at this, taking a sip from his coffee before refocusing on you. “I know, I know. It just feels right I guess.

“Well I guess I can't argue with that,” you concede, “It does just feel right to have you under me.” Norm chokes on his coffee at this, awkwardly sputtering it back in his cup. “As in our job hierarchy of course,” you smile, taking a sip of your own coffee. “Of course.”

Giggling to yourself for only a moment more you remind yourself of what you actually had to say. “Anyways, I'm writing up your first performance review today,” you inform, tone still light. “Oh?” he questions, anxiety pushing forward in his throat. “Yeah! No need to be worried, you've been an A+ worker these past few weeks.” you see as a wave of calm passes over him. You grin at this, stepping closer towards him. “I was just wondering if you would come to my place for dinner tonight. We could go over it, chat a little.” You step closer again, placing your mug on the counter, stepping in front of him now. Chests a breath away from each other.

You can hear his breath hitch, face turning red at your proximity. Running your hand across his jaw, you grasp his chin, tipping it up, he now looks up at you. Deep brown eyes shining with a glint of something you can't quite place. “Have some fun and such. What do you think about that baby? Sound good?”

He manages to whine out an affirmative sound. “Good, 7 o'clock, don't be late.” you say, giving his cheek a quick pinch before turning around and bending over an unnecessary amount to grab your coffee off the counter and running off to actually do your job.

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☆Norm pov☆

The rest of the work day seemed to pass by at an unbearably slow rate. While Norm has plenty to keep himself busy with, he can't keep his mind can only fixate on your earlier conversation. Only a few more grueling hours until your little dinner date.

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Checking his Pip-boy for what seems like the millionth time today, It's finally time to clock out. Saying short goodbyes to his coworkers, Norm rushes out of work as quickly as possible without looking entirely stupid. He certainly felt stupid. Never in his life has he ever been this desperate for someone.

Anyway, what do people even do to prepare for a date? Was this a date? Is all this tension not real? Is he just being a dick-brained idiot about all this? Honestly nothing could convince him one way or the other. But at this point who cares? He has to get ready anyway, he has to be presentable for you.

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☆Reader pov☆

You open your door at 7 o'clock sharp, and just as you agreed to, Norm is standing in front of you. He greets you with a smile. “On time for once, impressive,” you tease, leaning against the side of your door. “Well, I could never leave a woman like you waiting,” he flattered, “May I come in?”

You chuckle, turning around and waving him inside, “If you promise to be good.” Walking in behind you he breathes out a laugh, “I think I can manage that.” You offer him a seat at the table, which he takes. Your apartment lights are dimmed slightly, the blinds are closed and you have put on some music. It plays just loud enough to be heard, still soft enough to blend into the background.

You busy yourself at the kitchen counter, putting together the last few finishing touches on the meal. “So, how have you been liking the new job?” you prompt, turning your head slightly towards him. “It's pretty good. Certainly better than the last twelve, that's for sure,” he jokes, attention still kept on you. Chuckling a bit at his comment you turn around, a plate in each hand. “Any particular reason you think? A certain task or, coworker, making it worth your while?” you ask, feigning cluelessness.

You walk to the table, setting the plates down while sitting opposite Norm. “You could say that,” he concedes, you hum in acknowledgement, using your fork to push the food around your plate lazily. Looking down at his plate Norm looks back up at you. “I really hate to say it, you went through all this work but,”

“But what?” you question, concern bubbling lowly in your stomach. “I'm just not really hungry for what you've cooked.” he says, faux sadness in his tone. Catching on now, smile lightly to yourself. Moving your chair to sit closer to him, you play along. “Well I can make you something else if you want? What are you in the mood for?”

Pushing his chair back, he kneels in front of you, hands delicately placed in his lap. He looks up at you with an expression that can only be described as pathetic. “You.” Laughing to yourself you indulge him. Sighing, you run your hand down his face. He leans into your touch, releasing a small whine at the affection. “Is that so?” you tease, widening your stance so he can scoot in farther between your legs.

He nods, leaning further into your touch he delicately delicately reaches to tug off your boots, pausing briefly first. “Please,” he purrs, you nod once, giving him permission. Has he pulls of your boots as you unzip your suit, pulling it down your body. He pauses to toss your boots and socks to the side briefly, before returning his focus. You stand momentarily, pulling off your undershirt as he occupies himself by leisurely pulling your vault suit down, and off of you.

You look down at him, his ever present gaze still fixed onto yours. Running your fingers through his hair you tug him up, he releases a pained, yet sensual moan. Eyes glassy as he pulls himself to stand. “Let's take this to the bedroom pretty boy,” you coo, craning your neck to bring him into a short, but passionate kiss. He whines as you separate, following quickly behind you as you walk to the other room.

Once you are there, you come farther into his space, walking him towards the foot of he bed. When his legs hit it, you push him on, crawling after him. Your legs bracket his own, one hand supporting your weight near his head, the other traces its way around his center. You rub your palm over his growing bulge, pleasantly surprised by the size. “You're looking a little overdressed baby,” you say, moving your hand to his zipper, though it is caught by his.

“Wait, I want to taste you first. Please,” he expresses, hands going to your hips and squeezing the softness there. “Whatever you want,” you declare, leaning down to give him a soft kiss before moving up his body to hover above his face. “Just tap my leg three times if you need a break ok?”

“I won't need one.”

Before you can give what he said another thought you feel your underwear tear off at your hips. Norm quickly tosses the now scrap of fabric somewhere in the room. His arms swiftly wrap around your thighs, pulling you down to meet his open and waiting mouth. Surprised by his sudden actions you fall forward, one hand catching the headboard, the other, falling to his hair. The inertia of the fall forces you to tug. The sensation sparking a deep groan from him, the vibrations dancing across your core delicately.

“Fuck- you caught me off guard. You're supposed to warn a lady about these things,” you chastise half-jokingly, your hips falling into a rhythm. Norm replies with a half-hearted muffled something or other. He is clearly much more engrossed in the task at hand, and much too brainless to respond.

You feel the familiar waves of pleasure spark in your stomach, your body now becoming hypersensitive to touch. The overwhelming feeling causes your hips to buck up, only for them to be slammed back down by Norm.

As your moans grow louder, his, seem to as well. His tongue flattens across your core, he pushes your hips forward in time with your own movements. His nose bumping into your clit, the extra sensation causing you to release another round of wetness, one that he is all-too eager to lap up. Desperate for more he moves his tongue to your entrance, you clench desperately around as it works its way inside of you. “Fuck baby- you're going to make me come,” you groan out, tugging on his hair once more.

Something about that seemed to further motivate him. His lewd groans and whimpers only getting louder, and his actions only getting more ferocious. It's not long until your waves of pleasure finally come crashing down. They crash harder than they ever have, an unfamiliar intensity that Norm seems to sense, his moans getting to be almost as loud as yours, if not for your body muffling them. As you come back from your bliss, you lean back, looking down at him. Only then you realized what happened

The entire lower half of his face is soaked, and the sheets behind him. “Geeze did I just-?” you gasp out, you don't remember the last time you properly squirted. “Mhm…” he affirms, kissing your thighs, and giving your core a few gentle kitten licks. “Please, can we go again? I want to make you do it again…” he whines out, now giving your thighs small nips with his teeth. “I don't know if I can, pretty boy. It was already special when you got me to the first time, another time would be even harder,” you inform, he clearly doesn't like your answer, responding with an annoyed groan.

“Please, please let me try again. I can do it mommy! I can do it! Just one more!”

Your core involuntarily clenches at the name, his pathetic teary eyes not helping either. “Ok, one more. Be a good boy and help mommy come again.” Eyes lighting up, he smiles with satisfaction. Pulling your hips back to his mouth, he starts again, somehow more enthusiastic than before. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, the next one builds up even faster. “Mnhm- you're so good for me. Just like that.” The waves crash harder and harder than before, pushing you to the edge. Your hips buck wildly against his face, pressure building up once more. After an embarrassingly short amount of time, you come undone once more.

Your entire body tingles from the release, pleasure ebbing from every particle and atom. You soon go boneless, sliding down his body you cuddle up to his side. Grabbing his face to turn to you, Norm gives you a satisfied-looking smirk. “You proud of yourself?” you joke, leaning in to lock lips with him, tasting yourself. He deepens the kiss, turning to fully face you. He slots one of his legs between yours, giving a comfortable pressure where you need him most. His hands go to unclasp your bra. Both of you parting for barely a moment to rid you of it.

As soon as the bra hits the floor, one of his hands goes to cup your breast, squeezing softly. Parting once more, his smug look now has an extra needy layer to it. “I am very proud of myself, yes,” he answers, moving down your body now, capturing one of your nippes in his mouth. Groaning at the sensation, you place your hand back to its rightful spot in his hair. Pulling him closer, you begin to do your own groping as well. Hands tracing down his back, giving a quick squeeze to his butt before trailing back to his front.

His bulge is still going strong, pawing at it firmly, he whines pathetically, releasing from your breast with a pop. “You need me here, pretty boy?” you coo, giving his bulge a delicate squeeze. He only manages to respond with a nod and a few desperate thrusts into your hand. “Don't worry baby, I'll take care of you.” You give him a soft kiss on his lips, pushing him to be flat on his back again.

Crawling back on top of him, you hover now at his hips, leaning forward to pull down the zipper of his suit. Now fully unzipped, you tug down the suit, revealing his body as you do. He lifts his hips up briefly to help you. Pulling it fully off, you remove his boots and socks as well. He now finds himself in only his light grey boxers. Though, you notice something, crawling up his body again you see it, a dark stain on his boxers. A new, wet stain.

You give a light gasp, looking up at him. Already knowing what you are reacting to, his face is beet red and turned to the side. He doesn't dare to make eye contact. “Is this what I think it is?” you question, attempting to hide your arousal. “...Yes,” he shamefully admits, face somehow getting more red. “You came just from eating me out?” Not being able to bare speaking anymore he gives a sound in the affirmative. “Geez- thats so hot,” you admit.

That certainly brings a reaction out of him. He pulls himself up on his elbows, turning his head to face you again. “Really?” he questions, clearly unsure if you were being serious. “Yes really,” you answer, rolling your eyes at his stupidity. Pulling his boxers off, you run your fingers across his skin, collecting some of his leftover spend. You put your fingers into your mouth, moaning at the slight salty taste. You watch his pupils dilate impossibly wider, his erection getting impossibly harder by the second.

You seductively pull your fingers out, spit dripping from them as you bring them to his hardness. The slickness providing lubricant as you lazily pump a few times. You lick your lips in anticipation, looking up at his desperately flushed cheeks and sympathetic eyes. “I need you baby, You gonna let mommy ride you?” His brain seems to short circuit at your question for a moment, as if he can't believe it's actually happening.

He eventually comes to, responding to you with a nod and a whispered yes. At that you can't help but smile, grabbing his hips, you half-carry-half-push them to the headboard so that he can sit up properly. He releases a quiet whine at the show of strength, pulling you to mount his hips.

Grasping his hardness again, you swipe the tip through your folds a few times before easily sliding him inside. The sensation causing you both to groan. It's like he was made to be inside you. Not wanting to waste any more time, you quickly start a brutal rhythm. Though, this rhythm soon becomes rather disjointed and irregular. Taking that as a sign, Norm responds by quickly snapping his own hips to match your thrusts. This slight change is very welcome, his tip now battering against that one spot inside of you, your knees going weak at the feeling.

Noticing you falter, he picks up the slack. Holding your hips still, he manages to keep the unearthly pace. Both of your pleasures growing every second. “I-I’m not going to last long,” he admits through a moan. “It's ok pretty boy, neither am I,” you respond, feeling yourself get near the precipice. “Let go for me baby, come for me.”

His body seems to take that as a command, hips stuttering as you feel his warmth seep inside of you. With a few more of his harsh thrusts you come undone alongside him, slumping forward you unintentionally shove your breasts in is face, not that he is complaining. His desperate moans and whimpers now muffled by your chest.

You stay pressed against each other for a long while, not daring to disturb the peace. After a few minutes, you peel yourself off of him, moving him to lay down against your pillows you give him a soft kiss before turning to go to the bathroom. His hand catches your wrist, forcing you to stop. Turning back to him you remove his hand, leaning in to place a delicate kiss to his chest.

“It’s ok, I will be right back, I just need to get myself cleaned up.” Seeming to take that as a sufficient answer, he nods, allowing you to go. After going to the bathroom you clean yourself up, and grab a fresh washcloth. Wetting it you walk back to the bedroom, already hearing soft snores. Smiling quietly to yourself you clean him up, wiping all evidence of your activities away.

Tossing the washcloth into your hamper, you climb into bed. Norm unconsciously moves to cuddle into your chest, face cradled between your breasts, one arm holding onto your plush waist. Pulling up the covers you sigh, life can not get better than this.

#fallout #fallout tv series #norm maclean #norm maclean smut #norm maclean x oc #norm maclean x reader

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happyk44 · 21 days

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Thinking abt Hazel who usually gets Macaria to do her hair since they have similiar hair types (I perceive Macaria to appear black in her day-to-day, like Thanatos). Or sometimes Zagreus, who loved to play with his sisters' hair as a kid and is still willing to sit down for a few hours to do painstakingly complex braids.

But they're both gone, doing their own thing, when Hazel comes down and she sighs because this is the only free moment she has and sure she could get it done at Camp Jupiter or New Rome but she liked the family aspect.

Also it's free when her siblings do her hair. And free is always convenient.

She considers Nico, who's not that bad at it, he just takes way longer than everyone else and his plaits aren't as tight as they could be, when Pluto walks by. He prompts her and she tells him and blinks confused when a second pips by and she's suddenly seated on a plush cushion, products and brushes and combs around her. Her father is seated behind her, his long long legs stretched out.

It's sort of annoying how tall he is. He's behind her and yet his feet pass hers.

Why the hell is she and Nico so short? Even Macaria, born by Hades' sole hand from the dirt of the underworld and dessicated souls, defaults to just below average.

His fingers are cool against her nap as he separates her evenly. "What were you looking for?"

"Uh-" A book appears on her lap. She flips it open. Dozens of hair styles on every page, every hair type accommodated, every style listed. Even the ones far out of date. The models differ - in age, in race, in gender, in time period.

They feel familiar, familial. She wonders what it would take for her to join this family photo album. If she'll be present by mere existence, or if she needs to display a style never seen before for it to count.

"Uh, I usually just get..." She pauses on a photo. The girl is smiling wide with jewels adorning each plait. Even in the turnarounds, when her face is no longer visible, she seems happy. "This one is nice."

Pluto's chin scoots across the top of her head as he looks down. "Fulani with ornamental accents," he muses. He waves his hand as a bowl of beads appears between their legs. Different colours, different gems. "Pick. I'll let you know when I get there."

Hazel picks up the bowl. The jewels glitter. "Did you do all of these?"

"Most of them," he says.

She pulls out a thick golden bead. "Do you like doing hair?"

It seems a stupid question when it hits the hair and she curses her brain for not catching her tongue. But he answers, amused, "Sometimes. When you're patient. Nico never was, but fortunately Hades is a little more relaxed than I am."

She thinks of Nico, young, and tucked into their father's lap, wet locks being combed and brushed back gently as they dry. She thinks of him squirming, as kids do, bored of sitting still while his hair is trimmed. Or curled. Or whatever he had going on. For all she knows, he was being braided too, with slick smooth plaits. Over and under, over and under. Thin fingers and a idle smile listening to the chatter of a toddler.

"I didn't have much help when she was born," he continues. "And Macaria liked to play rough with the dogs and chickens and Furies." He clips part of her hair to the side and hums softly. "And their claws are not quite suited to crafting ponytails or braids from thick curly hair."

Hazel sets a beautiful onyx bead with her slowly forming pile. There's a thin golden imprint of a skull on it. The skin of it is smooth. Even the grooves are so subtle she can't feel them with her fingertip, only sensing it from the catch of her nail.

"And you just... carried on with it?" She pauses, shifting her head with gentle guide of his hands. "Even when they had other people without claws to help?"

"Of course." The comb is gentle as he passes it through. Slow and steady. Like Macaria and Zagreus, but softer somehow. "I'm your father. Why wouldn't I keep doing your hair?"

#happy talks pjo #idk how to end it so im just gonna cut it here and try to study #im v sore and tired #hazel levesque #hades (pjo)#my writing #my fanfic #pjo fanfic

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cywritesthings · 1 month

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Weathering a Storm (John Hancock/Fem Sole Survivor)

You can also find this over on AO3! Pre-relationship, warning for mild language.

Prompt: a sudden storm kicks up. Nora had not given much thought to just how severe the changes to the weather could be after the war. She was, unfortunately, going to find out from first-hand experience, much to the chagrin of her faithful companions, John Hancock and Dogmeat.

When you had escaped your frozen prison back in late October, you hadn’t really given thought to how the nuclear apocalypse may have affected the weather during the seasons. Hell, you hadn’t given thought to how nuclear radiation could’ve changed anything at that point.

You probably should have. Preferably before the middle of December, as the idea of combating radioactive snow and the freezing temperatures was now not just a damned idea, you are very much living it. Even with your wool-lined boots and the thick jacket you picked up in Diamond City, the bitterly cold wind whipping against you has long since pierced your protective clothing.

And, based on the constant stream of curses coming not too far behind you, your ghoulish companion is suffering similarly. Even Dogmeat is struggling, his usually high and wagging tail only a mere inch from dragging the ground.

Maybe it’s time to find some shelter…

Just as the thought struck your mind, the wind begins to pick up, and a new contender joins the falling snow: sleet. The horrid mix of ice and rain comes in sudden sheets, quickly drenching you and no doubt your companions, too. Your fingers are already numb as you fumble with your Pip-Boy, desperate to find something close enough to run to…

There!

“This way!” You half-scream over the roaring wind and rain, darting blindly to the right. Your Pip-Boy showed what seemed to be a house (or previously a house) in that general direction, and at this point, you have nothing to lose.

Well. Except your life from hypothermia. Or a fatal tumble to a broken neck. Slipping and landing on something sharp in a not great location.

Those thoughts put a further pep in your step, and thankfully, you can see Dogmeat running beside you as well as Hancock in your peripheral vision. You blindly grope forward as you run, and while it takes what feels like an eternity to find something solid amidst the pouring rain and ushered darkness-

OOF!

The air is knocked from your lungs as you practically clothesline yourself across the railing to the stairs.

“Found it,” you wheeze out, stumbling up the stairs. The door doesn’t budge when you try it, and you let out an exasperated cry as you jerk at it again.

“Move, sister!” Hancock budges you to the side, and delivers a hard kick to the door. The rotting wooden frame gives way under the force, leaving the door to swing open. He pushes against your back to get you inside, Dogmeat eager to follow.

You barely manage to turn the light on your Pip-Boy with your frozen fingers, but once the bright blue light shines through the darkness, you make for a nearby cabinet to push against the door. The door that Hancock has his back pressed against, the only thing standing between the mostly dry inside and the icy storm raging outside. With a few shoves, you have the cabinet wedged well enough that he can make a move to help force it the rest of the way against the door, propping it up on the stairs.

Your teeth chatter so hard, you’re impressed you don’t bite off your tongue when you speak. “W-we sh-sh-should go upstairs-s-s. Warm air r-rises.”

Hancock, breathing hard, nods and pulls out his knife, then waves for you to head up first. “You got the flashlight, might be better for you to head up first, hm?”

“Y-Yeah.” You draw your pistol, though you doubt your aim would be well enough to use it at the moment with how hard you shiver, and head up the stairs first. They are made of concrete versus standard wood, much to your relief; less likely to step on a rotten stair and go tumbling backwards. Dogmeat pushes in front of you, loudly sniffing, followed quickly by even louder sneezes.

A few minutes of checking the two rooms upstairs, and the three of you settle in the room closest to the door and with the fewest windows. While you peel off your sodden outer clothes, Hancock pushes the armoire in front of the sole window, trying to block the draft and any potential shards of glass, should it not hold up against the storm. Your coat and the pants you had on over your vault suit hit the floor with a nasty shlunk and shlop noise, followed by your boots and soaked socks. Not too far behind, Hancock starts stripping his centuries-old duds off, with similar unpleasant noises.

Still shivering, you get your flip lighter out and light the oil lamps you’d found in one of the hallway closets, then proceed to set up candles around the room. Still, the heat from those were so little, and even your vault suit was uncomfortably damp...

You look at Hancock, who’s back is to you as he rummages in the armoire, looking through the clothes inside. You barely manage to catch the sweater and pants he tosses at you.

“I can still hear your teeth chatterin’ away over the rain, Nora. Get out of that damned suit before you catch your death.”

“What about you?”

He laughs hoarsely as he pulls out a dusty white shirt and slacks. “Covered.”

You stare at him for a moment longer… and you can feel heat start to warm your cheeks, down to your neck. “Do you… mind turning around?”

“’Course not. You just had to ask.” He gives you a wink before turning his back to you, his pure cotton undershirt showing off just how lithe his figure is under that big, red coat. “Gonna ask the same of you, though.”

It takes a second for his words to process, but you chuckle once they do, turning your back to him as well. “I think that’s fair enough.”

Your icy fingers struggle with the zipper for a moment, but you do eventually manage to get the suit unzipped to your waist. Now the fun part: trying to get out of this damned thing when it’s practically suctioned to your skin. You nearly pull your shoulder out of socket just getting it off of your arms and down to your waist, but curses start to stream from your lips as you fight to get it off of your hips and legs.

“You need some help over there?” Hancock teases, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“I am fine, mind your business, sir,” you huff angrily, nearly ripping the damned suit before almost going headfirst into the bed in front of you. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

“Whoa, whoa, that’s no way to talk about your good pal’s mother.”

With a cry of success, you manage to wrangle the last of the suit from around your ankles. “Oh, you are so funny. Is the Mayor of Goodneighbor also known for his astounding comedy routines?”

“Why, of course. Who do you think they get down in The Third Rail when Mags is sick?”

“I can’t stand you,” you huff, shaking out your damp hair. Your underthings and the thin tank top you wear under the vault suit aren’t too bad off, just damp, so you slide the sweater and pants on over them. “Are you ready for me to turn around, or do I need to continue to protect your… modesty?”

“And here I thought I was protecting yours… nah, I’m good if you are, sister.”

“Neato.” You sigh as you turn around and sink onto a patch of dry floor, trying to soak up as much warmth from the oil lamps as possible. You notice Dogmeat has taken residence a ways outside the room, likely because he keeps shaking off so much water. And, well, your other companion sits across the lamps from you, picking through his coat’s pockets, likely looking for a chem of choice to use. “I gotta say, you clean up rather well, John Hancock.”

He laughs as he pops a few mentats out of their blister packs, then dry swallows them. “Why, thank you, beautiful. Gotta say, the old world looks pretty good on you, too.”

You snort, tugging at the hem of the woven sweater. “Well, thank you, good sir. I do happen to be quite a fan of this type of sweater. I… actually think I have a few put away somewhere…”

“...why didn’t you wear one?”

“Well, I… didn’t think the winters would be so severe.”

“I mean, didn’t the term ‘nuclear winter’ get coined in your time, sister?” He teases lightly as he fishes a can of purified water out of his bag and takes a long drink.

You snatch it out of his hand when he offers it to you, huffing. “Yes, but I never thought to take it literally.”

“Hmm. Wonder who’s fault that is then.”

“Certainly not mine.”

“No, ‘course not.”

You sigh and set the can of water between the two of you before snagging a dusty pillow, turning it to the less dusty side, and stretching out on the floor. “How long do these storms tend to last?”

“Should let up in a few hours.” He mirrors your actions, but uses his arms as a pillow instead. “One good thing ‘bout it, though.”

“Nothing’s gonna brave the storm to fuck with us?”

“Yep.”

#fallout 4 #john hancock #john hancock/sole survivor #john hancock/fem sole survivor #john hancock x sole survivor #pre-relationship

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nukaberries · 1 year

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Ahh im so happy to find a blog that writes new vegas! I got into it recently and its so fun! Sometimes i get tired of hearing the radio especially if im travelling way too much, so i just start singing any song that pops into my head or talk to the companions like they're real pfft

im also way too cheery for my own good lmao, game devs knew what they were doing when there was no push button for running, you know how many times i ran into mines and kept running 🧍🏽

I kinda wanna know how the companions would react to that? A Courier who practically bounces as they walk and if its not the radio or them talking to fill the silence, its them singing as they shoot radscorpions !! Couriers not half bad at singing either! They mostly sing quietly while walking the mojave for obvious reasons but on a night they feel especially safe, they'll be singing so well people will wonder why they're not making holotapes for mr new vegas to play (esp if they say the radio gets annoying at times)im sorry this is long im just excited to see a new vegas writer that hasnt left their blog 🤧

I'm SO late to this one, I'm so sorry! But I'm so glad you're enjoying New Vegas! It's tied with Red Dead Redemption 2 as one of my favourite video games! And I'm exactly the same when I play New Vegas, the radio's never off and I have no spatial awareness. I hope this was worth the wait!! (Sorry again lmao)

Companions React to a Loud/Chatty Courier (Includes: Arcade, Boone, Cass, Lily, Raul and Veronica)

Arcade Gannon Admittedly, he's a little intimidated at first. He agrees to go with the Courier since there's no point in him sticking around Freeside where he's not helping anyone. He just doesn't realise he's taken up with the most obnoxious person in the West. He's not annoyed by any means, in fact, the singing is actually quite a nice change from the radio. The constant talking is a little overwhelming for him at first though, as someone whose trying his best to keep his past with the Enclave a secret. He knows the Courier means no harm, and he feels a little guilty having to shut down their questions about him, knowing that they only mean well. They do bring out a different side to him he didn't know he had and he sometimes finds himself humming along to either the radio or Six's singing.

Craig Boone At first, he's annoyed by the Courier, but it's not like he has anything better to do. They're his best chance at wiping out the Legion, even if their incessant talking and singing is a little too much for him. He doesn't have a problem with them, but he prefers silence to having to begrudgingly answer someone who talks at a million miles per hour. The only time he'll really voice his complaints is when he actually needs them to be quiet, such as if they're trying to stealthily take out enemies, thankfully the Courier seems to know when to turn off their radio and stop singing. Eventually, the constant chatter and the singing - that he'll never admit is actually enough to rival the radio songs - become background noise he learns to appreciate. He'll never join in with the Courier's singing, but he tries his best to answer their questions and respond to their comments.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy Cass is another one who can't stand the Courier's chatter and singing at first, however, she's more than willing to voice this. A few times, she actually hid the Courier's Pip-Boy while they slept, unfortunately for Cass, they'd already memorised all the lyrics to Johnny Guitar and sung that on repeat for most of the day. It was starting to reach the point where Cass was certain they were doing it on purpose. The singing she hated, but the talking? She didn't mind the talking. In fact, Cass actually looked forward to the talking, she often struggled to make friends, considering her problems with whiskey, so it was nice to just make conversation sometimes. Sure, she'd still keep trying to put an end to the singing, no matter how good it was, but the talking Cass could live with.

Lily Bowen The first time Lily started travelling with the Courier, she was thrilled. Everyone in Jacobstown took life a little too seriously and being with the Courier was a refreshing change for her. Unlike most of the other companions, Lily actually loves the singing and the talking. She'll even suggest that the Courier tries their hand at singing on the Strip, the Tops and the Atomic Wrangler are always looking for new acts after all. Lily will even try and sing along with them, before realising her voice doesn't exactly compliment or rival the Courier's, but so long as they encourage to join in, she always will. The talking is just as lovely for her, it's nice to know that the Courier still cares about their grandma, even if they are growing up so fast.

Raul Tejada Never in all his years of being alive has he met someone like the Courier. It was one thing that they managed to deal with Tabitha, but the fact that they did it with Radio New Vegas playing on full blast from their Pip-Boy? Raul wasn't sure whether to be impressed or absolutely terrified. He leans more towards the latter once he starts travelling with them, struggling to keep up with the Courier constantly asking him questions about where he's from and what his life was like before the war and how he turned ghoul. Like Arcade, Raul finds it overwhelming and eventually asks politely if the Courier can calm down a little with all the questions, thankful when they actually oblige. He learns to love the Courier in spite of their loud habits, even being happy to fix their Pip-Boy when it stops letting them connect to the radio stations. It's against his better judgement, but they seem grateful for it.

Veronica Santangelo She immediately bonds with the Courier over their love for Radio New Vegas. Veronica wishes she had her own Pip-Boy so she could listen to the radio in her own free time, since lugging a radio around the Mojave Desert doesn't seem like the best idea. She absolutely loves the Courier's singing too, insisting that they don't forget her once they make it big in some bar in New Reno. She also tries her best to be the Courier's backup singer when wandering the wasteland, however, she accidentally stumbles up on a lot of her lyrics and trying to pronounce "Agua Fria" at the start of Big Iron quickly becomes the bane of her existence. Veronica also loves to gossip with the Courier, about her love life - and the Courier's if they're willing to disclose it - and all her least favourite things about her commanding officers in the Brotherhood. Whenever she travels with Six, Veronica manages to get a lot of off her chest

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout companions #fallout x reader #fallout imagines #fallout headcanons #courier six #arcade gannon #craig boone #rose of sharon cassidy #lily bowen #raul tejada #veronica santangelo

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prettyinlimegreenboots · 2 months

Text

Taking Comfort (In Your Arms) - Chapter 2

Two Weeks Later - May 28, 1943

The last two weeks Bucky Egan had been on base were ones that were unlike the previous 8 weeks Addie had been in East Anglia. The base seemed to be flipped upside down just by his presence alone.

She usually found him nightly in a local pub, singing alongside the locals as he made ridiculous bets and talked crap. She watched in fascination as he charmed the locals, with stories and tales of his past life in America. There were at least three girls chasing him, by her count, all enamored by the American.

And Addie tried to keep him out of her mind but it was becoming more and more difficult, especially between him randomly showing up to her office and Josie’s constant chatter about him.

“I’m telling you, Ads, you should just ask him out.” Josie called out, interrupting Addie’s mid-morning mind wandering session.

Scoffing, she paused on the report she was reading and looked up at Josie. “It’s not right for a girl to ask a guy out. Besides, he has charmed half of East Anglia and I’m sure his social calendar has all filled up.”

“Who is this mysterious man you’re talking about? And I very much doubt his social calendar is all filled. I’m sure he has a spot for you waiting for you, love.” Speaking of the devil, he shall arrive, causing both Josie and Addie both to yelp in surprise.

Looking behind her, Addie’s eyes narrowed at the very man Josie was referencing. “Jesus, wear a bell or something. At least let people know you’re lurking around.”

“Not my fault you didn’t hear the door slam. I mean I wasn’t exactly quiet.” Bucky grinned looking at the two women. “Now who’s the mystery man Addie should ask out? By the way, I think it’s great if a girl asks a guy out - takes the pressure off the fella.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “You’re going to have to work harder than that to find out Bucky. Now how can I help you?”

Taking a seat in the chair in front of her deck, he crossed his right leg over his left and plopped his hat down giving her a look, sighing. “I need your help. I’m getting nowhere with the Brits loaning us masks and parachutes so I was hoping you could help?”

Josie snickered as Addie sighed. They both had a love-hate relationship with the nearby British base. “I will warn you, depending on the day they might hate me too.”

“They couldn’t hate a beautiful girl if they tried, Captain.” Addie snorted this time as Josie laughed out loud. “What am I missing?”

Josie pipped up before Addie could. “They can when our girl flat out turns one of them down spectacularly in the local pub, Major.”

“That’s a story I look forward to hearing, Captain.” Bucky chuckled, scratching his jaw. “Can you help a poor guy out who’s boys land in two weeks?”

She sighing, giving him a calculated look. “I need numbers, Major. How many masks and parachutes do you need before your men arrive?”

Watching Bucky run numbers in his mind, was a sight to behold. His teeth had hold of his bottom lip as she could see the gears moving behind his eyelids. His concentrated look wasn’t one Addie saw very often on his face, but she added it to her growing list of favorite Bucky looks. “We’ve gotten 200 of the 1000 that were sent. If we could get an additional 300 before my guys arrive, we’ll be in good shape while we wait for our stuff to arrive, hopefully a few days after the boys arrive.”

Looking at the pouty face of Major Bucky Egan, Addie couldn’t help but melt at his face. He hadn’t figured it out yet, but she was a sucker for a pouty face on a man. It tested her resolve and before she knew it she was picking up the phone to make a call.

She watched Bucky lean back into his chair as she attempted to work her magic. Doodling on a spare piece of paper that was always present on her desk, she waited for the line to connect, hoping it wasn’t the Lieutenant she turned down answering the phone. An older voice came on the line as she grinned. “Colonel Masters, this is Captain Adelaide Baker calling from Thorpe Abbotts. I was hoping you could assist me with a request from Colonel Baker.”

She listened to the man wax on about her father and the great things he had heard. Rolling her eyes, she sat back in her chair, getting comfortable. “Colonel, we need 300 masks and parachutes for the Americans that are set to land in two weeks. Their equipment hasn’t arrived yet.”

Grumbling, the man on the other side of the phone said a few words before agreeing to have the equipment sent over by the end of the week. She wished him a good day and hung up the phone with a grin on her face. “Easy peasy, lemon squeezy, Major. Everything will be here by the end of the week.”

“Just like that - drop your father’s name and all is right in the world.” Bucky whistled, sitting up in his chair, giving her a surprised look. “Impressive, Addie.”

Making a note on her desk calendar, Addie grinned. “All in a day's work. Anything else you need help with, Major?”

“Meet me at the officer’s club later?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Shaking her head, she met his sad eyes. “I have a date with one of the big birds tonight. Unfortunately I won’t be able to make it to the club tonight.” Gathering papers, she pushed back from her desk and stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting I can’t be late for. I’ll see you later, Bucky.”

Watching her walk off, Bucky narrowed his eyes on Josie who sat at her desk with a smirk. “Is there something I’m missing, Josie?”

“Every other Friday night or so, Addie goes to one of the birds and reminisces on her time in the sky. Tonight is one of those nights.” Josie smiled sympathetically.

Bucky turned her words over in his mind. “Would she be terribly pissed if I interrupted that time?”

“She’ll probably scream at you for a few minutes but I think you’ll be a welcomed guest after that.” Josie smiled, at the man clearly smitten with her best friend.

John plopped his hat back on his head, tilting it in her direction. “Does she have a particular favorite bird by chance?”

“Our Baby is a favorite if it’s here and as luck would have it, it will be landing later this afternoon. I’d start there.” Josie winked as John laughed.

He started towards the door, pausing looking at Josie. “Is there anything else I should know before tonight Josie?”

“Don’t break my best friend’s heart, Major. That girl has been through the wringer these last few months and she doesn’t deserve any other heartbreak.” Josie gave him a look, a mix that she meant business and not to piss her off.

Giving a two finger salute, John gave her a silent promise not to do so before leaving the tower and heading towards his jeep. He had a few things to think about before he had a date with a big bird and a pretty girl.

2000 hours

Tipping the flask to her mouth, she muttered a cuss when nothing flowed out. She was laid out in the nose of “Our Baby”, the last fort she delivered before she was demoted. Scoffing, she shook her head, not wanting to go down that dangerous path tonight. There was a lot of anger built up on how that went down. Throwing her head back, she screamed at the unfairness of the entire situation and that her past came roaring back.

Choking back a sob, she hit the side of the fort in frustration. She didn’t want to spend her evening sobbing in the fort - she had already had enough of those nights. All she wanted to be was up in the air but because of jackasses and rules, she was sidelined. She was lucky they didn’t send her home, though her father was the likely cause of that not happening.

A noise caught her attention as she attempted to sit up. Her eyes widened hearing the hatch of the fort open and a voice call up, “permission to climb aboard?”

Muttering a cuss under her breath, she shook her head, wishing her brain wasn't so fuzzy. “This isn’t a boat, Major but permission granted.”

She winced as it sounded like a bull in a China shop as he made his way through the fort. Mentally tracking his path from the hatch, she smiled as she heard his footsteps directly above her while his voice carried. “Where the hell are you, Addie?”

“In the nose Bucky.” Her voice sounded rough as she shook her head away attempting to clear the cobwebs.

Before she knew it, she saw his boots before his entire torso came into view. He chuckled seeing her sitting there. “So this is what you do when you’re not in the pub?”

“Sometimes. Other times I’m laying in a field looking at the stars. Depends on my mood and how pissed off I am at the world.” She shrugged. “The pubs weren’t keeping your attention tonight, Major?”

Shaking his head, he sat down across from her attempting to stretch out his long legs. “Nah, heard there was a rager happening at one of the forts and decided to come check it out.”

“Sorry to disappoint but it was a rager for one, until you decided to crash.” She let a half smile push across her lips.

“Do you want me to leave?” He offered, picking up on the sadness in her voice.

She quickly shook her head. That was the last thing she wanted. “Just know that it’s not exactly a happy mood tonight.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, looking at her with sad eyes. “My buddy Buck tells me that I’m an excellent listener.”

Holding up a hand, she snickered. “Wait, your buddy is Buck and you’re Bucky? Did you really nickname your best friend after you?”

“I was Bucky first and when I met him at basic, he looked just like a buddy of mine back in Wisconsin named Buck so Gale became Buck and that’s quickly became what the guys call him.” Bucky defended, holding out a hand in innocence. “We gotta come up with a nickname for you, Addie.”

“Addie is my nickname.” She replied, eyeing him closely. “You’re not what all the rumors said you were like.”

Bucky laughed. “Glad getting to know me has changed your mind.”

“I’ve had my mind changed a lot these last few weeks.” She mused, tilting her head back to look up.

He shifted, looking at her, concern evident in his eyes, reaching into his sheepskin jacket and pulled something out - his trusty flask. “Offer still stands - do you want to talk about it? You’re obviously upset and sad about something and like I said, I’m a good listener.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.” She sighed.

Bucky took a sip out of his flask before offering it to her. She accepted, titling it into her mouth, the sting of the whiskey rough as it burned down her throat. “When did you fall in love with flying?”

“I’ve always loved it. My dad took me up when I was a baby; he said it was the only time I was quiet. I flew my first plane when I was 13, a Tiger Moth and I instantly fell in love with the freedom of it. My first job was doing the crop dusting in the local fields - I had five farms that I would spend the days swooping in and out of the clouds and I was so happy.” She grinned. “A family friend passed my name to Jacqueline Cochran and I was in the running to come over here. I went to Canada, the first time I had left the country, and managed to survive the grueling quest she put us through before being officially accepted to come over here in March 1942 and I’ve been here ever since.”

Bucky chuckled. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak in one breath.”

“Shut up; that just means you’re not asking the right questions.” She shrugged.

He took another swig of the flask, steadying himself for the question he was about to ask. “When did it all turn to shit?”

Sighing loudly, she wiggled her fingers for the flask. He promptly handed it over to her as she took a swig. “February. This may not make sense but bear with me. When I left in December 1941, I was 23 years old and engaged to be married. My fiance didn’t have the same ideas I did - I wanted to fly and do my part in the war effort and he wanted me home and tied to the house as his perfect wife. Well, that was the last thing I wanted to do so when Jackie called, I was on the first train to Canada. I couldn’t get away from Michigan fast enough.”

She ran her hand over her face, avoiding Bucky’s eyes as she sighed. “Well, little did I know, he had done a “welfare” check on the house I was staying in and found out that my roommates hadn’t seen me in a few weeks. He was pissed they didn’t report me missing, and they refused to tell him where I was. He was on good terms with the local police and requested a welfare warrant be sent out for me in the States. The authorities were looking in the US so it took them a bit to track me down. My promotion from Lieutenant to Captain made the papers back home and the big guns came calling in February. This fort was the last one I had ferried to Rattlesden. My father and CO along with the Air Force big guns were all waiting to read me the riot act. They couldn’t have a pilot and woman who wasn’t as upstanding as they were led to believe and who had skirted her duties back home, blah blah blah; bunch of bullshit to be honest. I ended up being grounded for five weeks while they tried to figure out what to do with me. I was given the option of going home or coming here to set up the base for other Americans. And the rest is history.”

“Is this the Wisconsin man you referenced during our first meeting?” Bucky asked, clenching his jaw.

Nodding, she smirked. “The very one and the same. Don’t worry, I got my revenge. Now everyone in Michigan and Wisconsin knows how awful of a lover he truly was and is.”

“Remind me never to piss you off.” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “But you’re so strong - surviving that and finding a new purpose.”

“Well I wasn’t the hell going back to the US, back to him after he ruined my career.” She scoffed, giggling to herself. “I wrote him a strongly worded letter that our engagement was over and I never wanted to see or talk to him again. There might have been a bonfire a few weeks ago where I burned all of his things I had - letters, poems, his favorite sweater.”

A comfortable silence fell within the fort, the two of them content. “I can see you have more questions, Major. Might as well ask them since we’re on such a roll.”

“Can you still fly or did they tear up your pilots license?” He asked, rolling his head to hold her eyes.

Nodding, she smirked, her face turned excited at the question. “There’s a Tiger Moth not too far from here that I take up on the weekends to just keep up my flying - I couldn’t quit completely cold turkey. But I miss flying these big birds, they were my favorite to fly. It never got old when I stepped out of the fort to see the shocked faces of the men when they realized I was a female and could handle the big girls.”

“I would agree, there’s something about these big gals.” He smiled wistfully, knocking his knuckles against the side. “I heard you scream earlier. I can’t imagine the frustration and anger you feel.”

Shaking her head, she chuckled woefully. “You have no idea. At least you can still go up on observation missions. It’ll be a cold day in hell by the time I get to fly officially again.”

“Are the B-17s your favorite plane to fly, Sassy?” He tried out, smirking when she shrieked.

“Sassy, tell me that’s not my new nickname, Bucky!” She gave him a look that just made him laugh instead. “It’s a toss up between the B-17s and the Spitfires. Spitfires are fun because they are so responsive to turns and they’re fast.”

Bucky grinned, seeing her eyes light up at the mention of planes. “Sassy’s not an appropriate nickname but I will be testing a few out before I settle on an official one. Never flown a Spitfire before so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Maybe one day I’ll take you up in one. P-51s are also fun.” She grinned, watching his eyes widened as she dropped that little tidbit.

He bit his lip in thought. “You mentioned a brother and sister fighting. I know Elizabeth is in France but what about your brother? And your mom?”

“My brother, Charlie, is currently in North Africa, doing God knows what. He writes when he can, which is about every ten weeks or so. And mom passed away just before I left to go to Canada, another reason to flee as fast as I could.” She bit her lip holding in her tears. “My entire family is in the godforsaken war and I’m just trying to hold on by a thread.”

Before she knew what happened, Bucky was pulling her in for an awkward hug. She was so surprised by the movement that a few tears had escaped and before she could wipe them away, a rough calloused finger caught them. She looked up, entranced in a spicy mix of sweat and aftershave, into the deep blue eyes of Bucky Egan. Trying to steady her heartbeat, all thoughts that she had wanted to say were gone. “I’m sorry, Addie. Josie mentioned that you had had a rough couple of months but I’d say you had a rough couple of years.”

“It’s life - it keeps moving on its own so just buckle up and hold on.” A weak smile graced her lips.

Bucky scoffed, removing his arms from around her and scooting back a little to his side of the plane. “I think you have the best outlook for life, Spitfire.”

“Spitfire - that’s a lazy nickname, Bucky. Do better.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, immediately missing the warmth of his arms around her. She wanted another hug from Bucky. “And I got that outlook from my mom - she would always say that line about buckle up and hold on whenever I was complaining about whatever. She was right - you can’t change half of what’s going on so just buckle up and enjoy the ride.”

Bucky laughed, knowing full well having her in his life would keep him on his toes. “Will do, Addie. I’ve been having all the fun with the questions. Got any for me?”

“What about your family back in Wisconsin?” She asked, a chill from the night ran up her back.

“You cold Bluebird?” He questioned, titling the flask in his mouth for another gulp.

She paused, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Bluebird, that’s an interesting nickname. And yes, these forts aren’t exactly insulated, you would know taking them above 10,000 feet.”

“So not opposed to Bluebird, noted.” He reached behind him and grabbed a blanket, throwing it in her direction. “And family - mother, father and two sisters awaiting me back in the states.”

“When’s your birthday?” She wrapped the blanket around her, wishing it was a tad thicker. “And how old are you?”

Chuckling, Bucky shook his head. “That’s your grand question, Bluebird? September 8 and 27. You?”

“July 6 and almost 26.” She paused. “Why bluebird?”

He hummed, raising his eyes to meet hers. “Because you remind me of a bird who always needs to be flying to feel free. And bluebirds sing the sweetest songs. Do you sing, Bluebird?”

“Absolutely not, cannot carry a tune to save my life.” A not so lady-like snort sounded from her as she laughed, shaking her head. “You Major?”

Bucky laughed loudly, his laugh echoing off the metal that surrounded them. “I’m no good either but I’m loud. And if you commit with enough enthusiasm then it doesn’t really matter.”

“Well I’m sure it’s a sight to behold, Major. Can’t wait to see that.” She giggled. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Blue Skies - it’s a classic and it’s usually played at least three times in the officer’s club on any given night.” Bucky’s excitement was palpable while his eyes lit up at the prospect of singing in front of her. “Though, I may get a bit nervous singing in front of you.”

A flush crept across her cheeks as she ducked her head in embarrassment. His voice dropped as he took her in. “Awww Bluebird don’t blush. Kinda wanna kiss you if I’m being completely honest.”

She looked up at him as he scratched the back of his neck as his checks reddened. “What’s stopping you?”

“This is a get to know you session, Blue.” He rushed to get the words out as she laughed.

“Wouldn’t that be another way to get to know you?” She challenged, making him laugh.

Scooting closer, he smiled at her. “Trying to show you I’m a gentleman, Addie.”

Scooting closer to him, she reached up and rubbed her thumb along the soft skin of his cheek. She looked into his blue eyes before tilting her head to capture his lips in a soft kiss. He deepened the kiss, pulling her close, silencing a gasp that just managed to escape. Pulling away slightly, his hand cupped her jaw, his thumb running soothingly up and down before kissing her again.

Time passed as they continued kissing in the belly of Our Baby. Pulling back, she laid a hand on Bucky’s chest pushing him back. “Slow down, Major. My brain is all fuzzy and I should probably head to bed.”

Bucky laughed and couldn’t deny her. Pushing himself off the belly, he offered her a hand, making sure she was steady before making his way up. “I had a good time talking with you, Blue.”

“Same, Bucky, same.” She murmured as a yawn escaped her mouth. “I usually am out here every other Friday, sometimes more often.”

Keeping a steady hand on her back as she stumbled through the plane to the open hatch, Bucky watched her with concentration. “Noted Bluebird. Let me go down first to catch you.”

“You think I can’t make my way through the hatch. Bucky? You know how many times I’ve done this?” She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look that did too many unmentionable things to him.

“A few?” He guessed as she cursed then shook her head. “But how many times have you done it with a flask and half gone down the hatch?”

She paused, giving him a look. “Alright, I’ll let you go first in case you need to catch me.”

Watching him slip through the hatch, she heard his boots hit the pavement before she heard his voice. “Let’s go Bluebird.”

Grumbling to she lowered herself down before slipping through the hatch, his hand steadying her as her feet hit the ground. “Want me to walk you back to the barracks?”

Holding out his elbow, she slipped her arm through his as he guided her across the tarmac. And if she let him steal a kiss or two or three as they stumbled back to the barracks, that was between her, him, the bright stars and moon that lit their path home.

Feedback as always is much appreciated. I’m working on the next few parts, so if there anything you’d like to see, just let me know. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 3

#masters of the air #masters of the air fan fiction #john egan fanfiction #John Egan x OC #Addie + John #taking comfort (in your arms)

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