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pastafossa · 2 years

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“It’s... Really Yellow?” (Matt Murdock x f!Reader, Fanfic)

Ok so in honor of ALLLLLL the good Charlie news today and us getting a little more of him in the red and yellow suit in the trailers, I’ve decided to finally pull this little drabble out of my folders and finish it since I’ve gotten some requests about what The Red Thread!Reader’s reaction would be to Matt’s new suit. You do NOT have to have read TRT to get this, it’s just a nice bonus (and for those who DO read it, just know this is set *waves* in their future).

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: Mildly NSFW at best. There’s some suggestive stuff, lots of innuendo, but no sex or anything.

Summary: Foggy needs you to help him convince Matt that red and reflective yellow are ridiculous colors to wear as a stealthy Devil. Unfortunately for Foggy, Matt knows exactly how to convince you otherwise.

Wordcount: 2,942

Warnings: innuendo, language, Matt turning the Devil voice on you, bad use of puns, Matt’s ability to look good in literally anything

“Look at me,” Foggy said fiercely, pointing at your eyes and then his. “You can’t forget what we talked about when he shows up. Ok?”

You scoffed where you’d leaned up against the humming a.c. unit, relaxing on the rooftop as you both waited. At least it was the rooftop of your and Matt’s building. There were far less things to worry about up here. “Of course I’m not going to forget. That’s ridiculous.”

“Good. Because it’s—I don’t know how you missed it last night—”

“I told you. I was asleep when he came in, and he had to leave early this morning for that case.” You rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “I knew he was going to pick up the new suit last night, and I tried to stay up but passed out on the couch. Woke up in bed when he kissed me bye before work. I figured he could just show me tonight when he was done with his patrol.”

“Yeah, see, that’s my point,” he said quickly, absently shaking out one foot. He was probably trying to keep himself awake. It wasn’t often you both tried to stay up for the moment Matt came back from his circuit around the Kitchen. There had to be at least one person who kept normal human hours. “It should have woken you up. You wanna know why? Because it’s—”

“It’s yellow, I know. You’ve said.”

“Yellow!” Foggy thundered, flinging his hands up towards the sky in an apparent show of outrage. “Yellow and red, ketchup and mustard! How is this stealthy unless you’re disguised as a hot dog? He’s-he’s reflective! This is anti-stealth, and he already gets into too much shit when he is stealthy! He should have woken you up like a yellow disco ball or a mustard torch!”

“What even is a mustard torch?” you mused.

“A mustard torch is what he is now,” Foggy groaned, reaching up to scrub at his face. “It’s absolutely ridiculous. ‘Why not black?’ I asked. Do you know what he said? He just blinked at me like he was shocked and said, ‘but I’ve already done black twice, Foggy.’ That’s what he said!”

“I mean… he has, though, so...”

“Listen to me.” Foggy tapped his temple, trying to psych you up. “No getting distracted. He’ll try it. He’ll use every trick he has on you. You’ve seen him in court. And you are our only tiebreaker. Karen’s staying out of it, Jess just mocks every suit he wears, and Spider-kid is too innocent to bring into this. You need to hold the line. You’re the only one who can talk some sense into him about the hot dog colors. I need reconfirmation you’re with me on this. We need to be a united front.”

And granted, you hadn’t actually seen the suit yet since Matt had only gotten it last night and despite your best efforts, you’d unfortunately fallen asleep before he’d gotten back. But from what Foggy had said, it did sound… a little silly. It was red and yellow—and not just yellow, but apparently a reflective, gleaming yellow. Matt wasn’t exactly the best judge of color, obviously, but surely even he’d realize that painting himself like a reflective road marker would make the whole sneaky devil thing a whole lot more difficult. This was smug. It was cocky. It was…

Alright, so maybe it was just like him, but still. That was what you were here for. You’d be able to tell him he’d gone a little over the line again.

“Trust me,” you told Foggy firmly, nodding your head. You even widened your stance and crossed your arms, determined to stand strong. “I’m on your side.”

“Thank you! We can teamwork this, ok? So he comes, you see it, you point out the obvious, we get him a can of spray paint or something. Literally, any other color as long as it’s dark. I’d take fucking dark blue at this point, I’d take grey, anything but that ridiculous—”

The sudden burst of warmth inside your chest was the only warning you had before you felt the rush of a breeze overhead.

Years ago you might have ducked, but you’d gotten used to it by now, and instead, you barely blinked as Matt’s acrobatic leap carried him over you. The second he'd passed you, he twisted in the air, the movement transitioning into a smooth roll as he hit the ground. The rise to his feet was just as smooth, just as clean, the finish progressing in one fluid motion as he spun to face you before standing still to await your judgement.

“Theatrics!” Foggy barked, poking Matt’s arm. “That’s cheating, and you know it.”

“She needs to get the full effect,” Matt said defensively as Foggy poked him again, and…

Oh, you thought, your eyes sweeping down.

It had been a while since you’d seen him in anything like his first Devil suit, but you remembered fondly the way all that tough leather and strange fabric had drawn your attention to his broad shoulders, the powerful thickness of his thighs, and the endless breadth of his chest. This new suit looked much like the last in shape and in form despite a few obvious and less obvious changes—and if anyone besides Matt would know, it’d be you, since you’d stripped him out of that old suit often enough. And goddamn if you weren’t being reminded once again that Matt Murdock was always a five-course meal no matter what he chose to wear.

Your five-course meal.

“You are literally the color of a highlighter, that’s the only effect she… hey. Hey! Look at me!”

You darted your eyes guiltily back over to Foggy, breathing a little more quickly. “Yup, looking at you. I am focused.”

“The yellow!” he said quickly, jabbing urgently at Matt’s mask. “Remember what we talked about. Ok? Stay strong.”

Matt hummed. “Have you been tampering with the witness, Foggy?”

“It’s called preparing the witness. I’m not about to let you pull your Devil mind tricks on her.”

Right.

The yellow.

You could look at him and think about just the yellow.

Matt fixed his attention once more on you when he sensed your gaze return. And ok, so the mask was different. The dark, opaque eye lenses of the mask seemed an almost liquid-black in the low light, endless pools of shadow that saw right through you, saw into you beneath skin and bone, fathomless eyes made all the more startling when set within the gleaming, burnished gold of the full helmet. Because it was gold, not yellow, but gold: rich, rough as if weather-beaten, and luxuriously, dangerously warm, and yes, maybe also abso-fucking-lutely reflective, it was true. It would draw attention, maybe too much. But it… it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought, was it? Somehow, it still managed to look dangerous, like something belonging to a wild, untamed thing that you just wanted so foolishly to touch—

No, no, you needed to focus.

Matt parted his lips the slightest bit, drawing the air in across his tongue on a slow inhale. He swallowed, once, as if savoring the taste. And then…

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“Stop it with the sniffing and tasting thing,” Foggy snapped. “Seriously, she’s not gonna fall for that.”

Matt let his head gradually tilt, his chin tucking down. You knew that look. It was the look of a predator, the motion confident and dripping with intent, with knowledge of what was around him. It was how he hunted, how he hunted you, and your heart skipped a beat on instinct, a reaction far beyond your control. He opened his mouth bit by bit, drawing your attention to his full lips, to the curl of his tongue as he shaped the word.

“Don’t you dare, Murdock!” Foggy bellowed.

“Sweetheart,” Matt purred, his smooth voice nothing but warm smoke and a low, throaty hunger.

“Shit,” you groaned as your knees went weak, your body flooding with heat. It was that voice, damn him: that rasping Devil voice you always swore you could feel drag along your skin like a physical thing, like torn strands of silk, like the burning brush of his mouth and the heat of a flame. When combined with that familiar silhouette and the smooth motions of his body, there was little hope of resisting. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“The color!” Foggy shouted, throwing his hand in front of Matt’s face as if it would break the spell Matt had cast on you just now, cast on you months ago, years ago. “It’s fucking yellow! Focus, woman!”

“I, um… it is… yellow.” You swallowed hard as Matt dragged his tongue across his lips, trailing his fingers smoothly along the billy clubs at his hip. In fact, the rhythm his fingertips took up looked more than familiar enough to have certain parts of your body clenching. “It’s… it is… yellow, and that might be… attention-grabbing. Which is… not a good thing.”

“I think she needs to see the back,” Matt said abruptly.

“Don’t even think about it!” Foggy thundered. “I’ll throw you off this goddamn roof, I don't give a shit about your training!”

“Sweetheart,” Matt crooned. “Would you like to see the back?”

“She would not!”

Fuck.

“...Yes,” you whispered because the only thing as good as Matt’s front was his back, and you’d never seen his ass look like anything less than a five-star masterpiece that belonged in art museums across the world. “Yes, Jesus, let me see.”

“No-ooo,” Foggy moaned, dropping his face into his hands in defeat as Matt pointedly began his gradual spin, showing off his outline with a smug grin. “Jesus, woman. You’re selling your soul for an ass?”

“But it’s his ass,” you mumbled because it was. Matt had the best goddamn ass you’d seen in your life, and that glorious roundness was now cradled deliciously in tight red leather. And maybe Foggy was right. The yellow pattern along the side of Matt’s thighs was a little obvious, but it also brought out just how much muscle was packed on those thighs of his.

You needed him to get over here.

“Does no one see how obvious the yellow is? Am I the only person—”

“D, come here and let me touch your ass,” you whispered.

“I’m absolutely shocked at how scandalous this trial has become.” Matt shook his head as he finished his spin, doing his best to sound at least mildly dismayed, his mouth the mouth of a poor chaste soul who had definitely not fucked you on a church rooftop last month. “And how would your husband feel about that? I see that ring.”

“You two are literally the worst. You cannot be flirting over the ketchup-and-mustard suit. You cannot.”

“Can and am. As for how my husband would feel, he’s given me a free pass for the Devil since Daredevil saves the city on a regular basis,” you said breathlessly as you fixated on the breadth of Matt’s chest. Yeah, you could get used to the yellow. It was a lot but he’d find a way to make it work. “He’s known about my crush on the Devil for ages. So come over here and let me grope the evidence before I rule in your favor.”

Matt let out a playful growl and ran at you, catching you around the waist and throwing you up over his shoulder with ease as you shrieked before bursting into laughter. Matt quickly spun, slapping you once on the ass and making you squirm as he grinned at Foggy and you pointedly began to run your hands curiously over the suit. “Sorry, counselor,” Matt sighed. “Sounds like the verdict’s been rendered in my favor. Better luck next time.”

“You only won because you cheated!” Foggy groaned as Matt sauntered backwards towards the rooftop door. Hopefully Foggy thought that stumble was because Matt had misstepped, and not because you had, in fact, begun to grope hungrily at Matt’s ass. He couldn’t blame you. It was right there. “This was not a fair trial, and I object!”

“Objection denied. No cheating needed,” Matt snorted. “You should have known better than to put my wife on the stand.”

“I’m a weak woman when it comes to my husband’s ass and chest, especially when paired with the Devil head tilt,” you agreed. “I have not hidden this. I acknowledge my flaws.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were this weak,” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms.

Matt spun, slapping your ass again as you shrugged at Foggy, somewhat difficult considering you were still lazily draped over Matt’s shoulder, but you did your best. It wasn’t like you minded, after all. You had a great view of Matt’s ass from here. “Sorry, Foggy. I’ll make it up to you, but I gotta side with D on this one. I rule in favor of these ass-ets.”

“Oh,” Matt sighed, as Foggy made a retching sound. “Now I’ll really have to punish you, because that was a crime.”

“How many more years will I get if I slap your ass right now as an additional crime?”

“A lifetime sentence, Mrs. Murdock. I’d advise you to think very carefully before acting.”

You pretended to think about it for all of about point-five seconds. “Done.”

Smack!

His chest rumbled against your legs as a heated shudder rolled up his body beneath you, a motion easy to track with you draped over his shoulder, with your gaze fixed firmly on the line of him. And you’d gotten him good. The texture was a little different than the last Devil suit, but you still got a nice, loud sound of it, even if nothing would compare to bare, unobstructed skin.

He tilted his head very, very carefully, his lips brushing against your side. “You’re going to pay for that one when I get you inside, sweetheart,” he murmured, so quietly you knew it was just for you.

You were counting on it.

Foggy rolled his eyes as Matt wrenched open the rooftop door, and you threw Foggy a salute. “Despite my utter betrayal, I want you to know I love you, can’t wait to see that movie tomorrow. Use the other door on your way out, we’ll be locking this one.”

“Mustard-lover!” he threw at you, as you dropped your head to blatantly watch Matt’s ass again, the door shutting behind you both.

The second you were inside, Matt set you down carefully. Then he turned and stepped into you, herding you back with the broad line of his body. You gave in happily, ceding ground as he prowled forward until your back hit the wall, a shiver of anticipation running through you.

This never got old.

Your breath caught when he dipped his head, tilting it as he listened to the sound of your body, his tongue darting against his lips as he tasted you on the air, and you swallowed down an eager moan. He swayed in closer then, tempting you, inching closer until his mouth hovered over yours. Only then did his arms rise so he could brace his hands on either side of you, caging you in. Just like that, you were trapped, the Devil looming over you in heated shades of red and gold, rich lust and glorious indulgence. “Mm, now, sweetheart, I have one very important question before we start.”

Fuck, there was that voice again, nice and low. You couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him again, sliding your hands boldly up from his waist to fan out across his chest. “Uh huh?”

“Suit on,” he purred, his lips feathering against yours with each sinful world, “or suit off?”

“Suit definitely on,” you hummed, sliding your arms around him to drag your nails down the line of his back. “Someone’s gotta break it in, right?”

He threw you a feral grin, then, the low huff of his laugh rolling rich across your skin. “Did I ever tell you I love you?”

“Every day, D. Every beautiful day.”

-x-

“Ok, but is it… how yellow is it, really?”

“I mean, you’re not mustard-colored like Foggy says. More gold. But let’s just say if you polish that helmet too much, you might cause a car accident. That shit is really reflective now that I think about it.”

“Hm. I may have to change that in the future.”

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obsessedwithceleste · 3 months

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The Cat Chronicles

(Or five times Theodore Nott *accidentally* stole your cat)

Theodore Nott x reader

word count: 5.9k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

The first time your cat went missing, you didn’t think entirely too much of it. You knew many of the Hogwarts cats liked to gather behind the herbology greenhouse where a particularly plentiful patch of catnip grew. However, Gladys was never one to miss meal time, and when the time came to 30 minutes after her usual feeding time, you knew something was amiss. With a sigh, you made your way out to your common room where you saw Cho sitting by the fireplace with several other of your class mates.

“Has anyone seen Gladys wandering about? She missed feeding time and I haven’t seen her much today,” you say as you approach the group.

“I haven’t, sorry y/n. We’ll keep a look out for her though,” Cho tells you.

You let out a small sigh of disappointment.

“Thanks Cho,” you say before heading out to wander the halls of the castle, hoping to find your elusive, black cat.

You start out by the greenhouse where you see a whole gaggle of cats, but none with the sleek black coat that identified your furry friend. You then walked around the grounds a bit more with no luck, before moving on to the kitchens where several of the house elves promised to keep an eye out for the small black cat. You even checked several empty class rooms before coming to a stop outside the library. It wouldn’t hurt to check. Twenty minutes later, you were still completely out of luck. Tired and frustrated, you were about to call it a night when a loud chorus of voices turn down the hall. You look to see who it was and find a hoard of Slytherin boys making their way towards you. You recognized them of course, but didn’t exactly know them. What you did know however, was the mop of black fur one of the taller boys in the back of the group was holding.

“Gladys!” You exclaim, rushing towards the group of boys.

Their eyes all turn towards you and at the sound of her name, the fiesty black cat springs from the arms of the boy and runs towards you.

With a large grin of relief, you scoop the cat up into your arms, feeling her light purr as you scratch behind her ears. Feeling several pairs of eyes on you, you look up to see the group of boys still staring at you and your cat.

“Um, thanks, for finding my cat,” you say awkwardly, squeezing the cat to your chest lightly. The tall, brunette boy who had just been holding your cat only nods silently before turning and walking off, the rest of the group following, except one.

“Hey, sorry about Theo. He means well, really. Man really likes cats, but doesn’t have one of his own, so he sometimes makes friends with cats wandering the halls. We’ve all told him that he should probably stop, ah, borrowing, people’s cats, but he can’t seem to resist. Names Enzo by the way,” the boy says with a friendly smile, extending his hand out.

You take his hand, shaking it cautiously before a smile creeps it’s way onto your face.

“Thank you, Enzo.” You say, hesitating a moment before adding, “You know, Gladys is a picky bitch. Theo must be a pretty okay person if she let him carry her around.” You tell him before disappearing with your cat.

The second time your cat went missing, you honestly didn't realize she was missing at all. Theo had found his way down to the kitchens about a week after the original cat incident. That's how he thought of it anyway. The kitchens were one of his favorite places to lurk as not many students knew of the secret entrance behind one particular painting of a fruit bowl. The real attraction that often drew the brunette boy to the hidden sanctuary however, was the constant stream of cats that often visited the house elves who happily offered up dishes of cream and other treats. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a particularly populated bowl of milk, Theo's eyes were immediately drawn to a familiar set of glowing yellow orbs.

"Hello there, Gladys," he said hesitantly, decently sure that was the name called out by the pretty Ravenclaw girl who had stolen the cat from him a few nights ago.

Well, stolen in this case was rather relative, as the cat was technically hers, he supposed. Hearing her name however, the little black cat pranced over, nuzzling her head affectionately against his leg with a soft purr. Picking the sweet creature up into his arms, Theo stroked her soft fur, thinking back to his encounter with her owner, a grimace reaching his face.

He had been a downright bloody idiot. That was for certain. Theo was not usually one to be rendered incompetent by the mere presence of a pretty girl. No. That was meant more for Enzo. Or even Draco sometimes. But never Theodore. In fact, Theo had quite the reputation for his tendency to sleep around which made the idea of his mind completely blanking at the sight of this cat's owner all the more embarrassing. Matteo had made fun of him ruthlessly later that night. What had he said again? Right. Absolutely nothing. Just nodded like a right dunce.

The only solace Theo had gotten from that night was when Enzo pulled him aside quietly and told him what the pretty girl from earlier had said about him. "He must be pretty okay." It was hardly a compliment, but after the fool he'd made of himself, it really was the best Theo could hope for. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Theo once again focused on the little beast snuggling contentedly in his arms, carefully scratching behind the ears, a spot he'd found the cat quite liked.

The sound of the entrance painting swinging open startled Theo; and he honestly wasn't sure if he was elated, or absolutely mortified that the very girl who had been previously plaguing his thoughts was stepping through into the kitchens.

You honestly weren't entirely surprised to see the boy from a few nights ago sitting on the floor, cradling your cat, when you entered the kitchens. After Enzo had admitted to you that the handsome brunette had a soft spot for the castle's feline population, you figured it was only a matter of time until you bumped into him here considering it was a hot spot for the four legged beasts.

"Hello. See you've managed to find my cat again," you say, offering a small smile to the boy in front of you. After your encounter with that particular group of Slytherins, you did a bit of asking around, finding that Theodore Nott, while a bit known for his escapades with the female population, was actually one of the more talented wizards of your year. And one of the more level headed. (But in comparison to Draco and Matteo, you weren't exactly sure how much credit to give him there.)

The boy blinks up at you once before seeming to find his voice.

"She's a sweet little thing," he says finally, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but you.

You cautiously move forward, more worried about spooking the boy in front of you than the cats. Sitting down, you allow a pretty little Siamese kitten to wander into your lap. Gladys hisses with jealousy, but remains snuggled in the arms of the boy.

"She really seems to like you. Bit surprising. She's really not much of a people person," you tell him.

Theo nods at you, an action you found yourself growing familiar with.

"Enzo told me." He replies curtly.

You open your mouth to respond, but don't quite know how, so you let an awkward silence roll over the two of you.

"Well, I find that Gladys is a very good judge of character," you say finally.

Theo lets out a small smile at this, continuing to stroke your cat's soft fur. After that, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with Theodore continuing to shower your cat with affection while you distract the many other felines, crowding the kitchen floor.

"Theo?" you wonder finally, the question burning away at you. The boy looks up, and you find yourself getting lost in the surprisingly soft brown eyes staring back at you. Breaking from the trance with a small shiver, you ask, "If you like cats so much, why don't you have one of your own?"

Theo's eyes immediately fall, and his hand freezes mid pet, much to Gladys' dismay. A pang of guilt washes through you.

"My father isn't much of an animal person," He replies stiffly.

You give him a small nod in response before rising from the floor.

"It's getting pretty late, I should get going," you say softly. "Gladys can find her way back to the tower on her own just fine," you add when you see Theo make no move to release the cat.

Without another word, you move to open the portrait door. You enter the hall with a small smile gracing your lips as you hear his voice quietly as the door closes.

"Thank you, y/n."

He knew your name.

The next time Theo met Gladys was much sooner than he expected. He had left the kitchens several hours ago and was now laying in bed. The clock sitting on his bed side now read 1am. The deafening silence was about to finally lull him to sleep when an insistent scratching at the door caused his eyes to fly open. Sitting up, Theo glanced at the door warily before finally deciding to cross the room to find out what was causing the noise.

As soon as the door opened, a black shadow darted through, making a beeline for his bed. How it seemed to know exactly where it was going, Theo had no clue. Making his way silently back to his bed, careful not to wake either of his roommates, Theo was finally able to make out the dark shape of an ever familiar black cat.

"Hi there, principessa," he whispered, gently stroking the cat's ears before crawling into the bed next to it. Gladys seemed to take this as an invitation to curl up in the nook of his arm, and Theo wasn't about to object. The last thought he remembered before drifting off was how nice it would be if Gladys' pretty owner was there too.

"Theo, what the fuck."

Theo woke with a start, to the loud voice of Lorenzo Berkshire ringing out above him. His eyes opened to see the other boy hovering over his bed, a look of shocked confusion apparent on his face.

"Is that y/n's cat?" he asks, leaning down as if to get a closer look at the fluff ball still snuggled in Theo's arms.

"No way," Matteo laughs from the other side of the room. "You stole her cat again? What, is this some sick and twisted new way for you to lure girls into your bed?"

Theo launches a pillow at Matteo's head. He doesn't miss.

"You better go return that thing before y/n starts to worry," Enzo advises, going back to his own side of the room. "And maybe just ask her out while you're at it hmm?" He adds, quickly ducking behind his fourposter before Theo has the chance to send another pillow flying his way.

With a heavy sigh, Theo comes to a stop outside of what he's pretty sure is the Ravenclaw common room. He's about to raise his hand to knock, when the golden eagle head mounted to the door springs to life.

"What gets broken, without being held?" The eagle asks, blinking at him slowly.

Right. Theo knew about this. The most annoying of the common room doors because instead of a password, the bloody door required you to answer a riddle. Theo was about to turn on his heel to leave when he felt a light presence behind him.

"Hello Theo. Hello Gladys." The platinum blonde haired girl said, giving the two of them an airy nod, before turning her attention to the door. "Would it perhaps be, a promise?" she asks.

The door swings open and Theo quickly hurries after the girl, making his way up the staircase. He'd never actually been inside the Ravenclaw common room, and his breath hitched when they reached the top of the stairs. The main room really was magnificent, nothing like the dark, eerie dungeons of the Slytherin common room. Theo eyed the shelves of books lining the wall longingly.

"Her room is just there, up and to the left," the blonde girl he'd followed in says, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Y/n? Her room is just there," the girl repeats, gesturing to a door at the top of another small flight of stairs.

"Oh. thanks," Theo makes out, giving the girl a nod of gratitude.

"Name's Luna by the way. Luna Lovegood." She says whimsically before floating off.

With a deep inhale to calm his nerves, Theo makes his way up the stairs and knocks gently on the door. Gladys lets out a meow of protest. Absolutely nothing could have prepared Theo for what was on the other side of the door. He felt his throat go completely dry as the door swung open and you stood in front of him in what was probably the shortest, skimpiest set of clothing that could possibly be considered pajamas. Theo tried not to stare, he really did, but he was only a man. A very weak and smitten man.

"Oh! There you are Gladys. I wondered where you wandered off to last night!" you say looking at your cat and then back up at Theo, and then again at your cat before looking back up at Theo expectantly. "Um. May I have my cat back?"

Theo jolts back to life, realizing he'd been staring and looks at you sheepishly.

"Sorry, don't know how this little one found me. Snuck her way into the Slytherin common room and then into my dorm. Didn't want to leave her in the halls alone, so I let her stay the night," he tells you.

You stare at the boy in shock, realizing that was the longest string of words you'd ever heard out of him.

"Wow Theodore, I'm impressed. I think that's the most I've ever heard you talk. And here I was thinking you were secretly illiterate," you say with a playful grin.

"Please," the boy scoffs. "I'm the picture of eloquence."

Interested in where this sudden burst of confidence that you didn't normally see from him had come from, you take a step back, inviting him into your room. He hesitantly accepts your invitation, bringing Gladys along with him.

"No roommates?" he asks, perching on the edge of your bed as Gladys purrs softly on his lap. At the moment, you found nothing more attractive than this man absolutely pampering your beloved pet.

"Not many Ravenclaw girls in our year, we had the option to share, but most of us opted for solo rooms. Wanted the extra privacy, I suppose," you tell him, leaning on one of the posts at the end of your bed.

Theo nods his head at this.

"I have two roommates," he shares.

"One of them happen to be Enzo Berkshire?"

Theo nods again. "And Matteo. Riddle" he adds.

You cock your head at that with a grin.

"Interesting pairing," you comment, imagining the chaos those two must bring with them.

"It never gets boring," Theo responds.

A moment of silence passes.

"I was wondering if you wanted to study together sometime. I hear you're exceptionally talented at potions. And Charms. And everything really." Theo lets out finally.

You raise an eyebrow at the boy, internally screaming.

Trying to keep your cool, you tilt your head, "I hear you are too."

It's like a switch flips inside Theo.

"Well, we're obviously perfect for each other than," He replies easily, a cocky grin beginning to spread across his face. "Meet you in the library tomorrow at 7? And bring the cat."

You let out a laugh as Theo rises from the bed, gently placing Gladys down on the pillow, before going to make his way out of your dorm.

"You only like me for my cat," you joke, shifting to watch as he crosses the room to the door.

"Not just for your cat," he assures you, "I love the outfit, wear it for me more often, hmm?" he says slyly before the door thuds shut behind him.

You look down at your outfit, jaw dropping open and heat rushing to your cheeks.

Theo's head was pounding. Music pumped through the Slytherin common room and Theo could barely see through the crowds of people around him as he pushed his way to the circle of sofas occupied by his friends. Collapsing into a spot next to Matteo, the boy offered him another shot of who-knew-what which he quickly knocked back.

"When's that pretty little thing that's been occupying all your time gonna join us at one of our little gathering?" Matteo slurs out, gesturing to the large crowd around them.

Over the past several weeks, you and Theo had grown significantly closer; your first study date quickly becoming a daily occurrence as you found that you each were able to easily keep up with one another. Something about having a partner who was actually able to challenge you was exhilarating. From there, you found yourselves often seeking each other out simply for the sake of good company, Gladys largely increasing the number of these meetings.

"Don't know that Gladys would like it. Cat's aren't supposed to ingest alcohol," Theo responded, not quite drunk enough to fall for his friend's taunting.

Enzo places another shot in his hand, and Theo raises a brow at him, before knocking that one back as well.

"Did you ever ask y/n why in Salazar's name, she choose to name her cat Gladys?" Matteo asks. "If my name were Gladys, I'd being running off constantly too."

Theo thumps Matteo on the back of the head.

"You leave our cat out of this, she ain't do nothin wrong," he says, glaring at his friend.

"So now she's our cat is she?" Enzo asks, a smirk growing on his face. "Didn't know you and y/n were so serious."

"It's our cat damnit! If marrying y/n is what it takes to finally have a cat of my own, so be it," Theo says decidedly.

Enzo snorts at his clearly, very drunk friend. "Careful, or one might think you're only into her for her cat. And not the cunty kind."

Theo scowls at this. "Y/n says that all the time, but have you seen that ass? And the way she mopped the floor with Draco in potions the other day? She's perfect."

"Yeah? Why don't you go tell her that then?" Matteo says, wanting nothing more than to see a drunk Theo try to make his way to Ravenclaw Tower.

"You know what? I will. And I'll pet Gladys too." Theo states. A look of pure, intoxicated determination set on his face.

Lorenzo eyes his friend warily. While not exactly sober himself, he didn’t particularly like the look his friend was giving them.

“Aw c’mon Enz, don’t you try and be the voice of reason now,” Matteo drawls, sensing the hesitation coming from his friend. “Don’t you want to meet the lil thing our beloved Theodore has been obsessing over for weeks now?”

“I’m not obsessing,” Theo snaps, taking a sip straight out of a random bottle he’d picked up from the table.

“Let’s go. I’m gonna steal her cat. For real this time.”

With a wide grin, Matteo jumps up, ready to follow his friend wherever the night took him. With a low groan, Enzo followed suit, knowing that his pair of roommates would need some sort of guidance to prevent them from walking themselves straight of the edge of the astronomy tower.

You didn’t have a lot of expectations for the quiet Friday night that you were spending curled up with a book and your cat. It was late, and after a long and stressful week, the time alone with Gladys was just what you needed to really recharge. You had spent most of your day lounging out on the lawn next to the Black Lake with Theodore, studying with and harassing the boy. A small smile crept onto your face, remembering the way his brown curls had floated about in the soft breeze.

You really hadn’t expected for the two of you to become so close, so quickly, but you weren’t complaining. You’d grown quite fond of the boy, especially once he started opening up a bit more. You’d initially thought that he was a man of very few words, but quickly learned he was in fact very sharp witted and even a bit snarky at times. Time spent with him had easily become your favorite part of the day and was something you were constantly looking forward to.

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit where you were sitting, Gladys letting out a yowl of protest.

You quickly cross the room and open the door to find a very miffed looking Cho, a frown imbedded on her face.

“Sorry to bother, but could you please come get your boy under control? He’s upsetting the portraits.” She says.

You blink once. Then again.

“Sorry?”

“Your Slytherin fellow? He’s out in the corridor with two of his friends harassing the door,” she explains, turning to lead you down the spiral staircase.

You’re not even halfway down when you begin to hear the voices.

“Who in the bloody hell would want to be in Ravenclaw with this blast-ended skewt ass looking-“

“Matteo you can’t curse out the door.”

“I’ll curse at the bloody door if I want to bloody curse at it.”

You grimace, looking at Cho who looks back with a similarly displeased facial expression.

“Sorry bout them. I’ll take it from here,” you tell her when you reach the bottom.

With a slight nod, she turns to retreat back up the stairs. With a sigh, you push the door open, almost taking out Matteo who had been leaning on it for support.

“Hi amore, fancy seeing you here,” Theo slurs, a grin taking over his face at the sight of you.

Enzo leans against a pillar, face in hands, looking like he wanted to disappear. You could smell the alcohol on all of them.

“Hi Theodore. Are you sober?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“I’m moderately functional,” he replies with a lopsided smile.

“I’m taking that as a no,” you say, glancing worriedly at Matteo who was currently laying spread eagle on the floor. “Let’s get you boys back to your common room.”

“I wouldn’t. Party’s not gonna end any time soon. They’ll just get more hammered and start wandering off again,” Enzo advises, head still in hands. “Like herding hippogriffs with those two.”

“And Theo hasn’t proclaimed his undying love for y/n yet!” Matteo adds.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and Theo glowers at his friend.

“It’s okay Theo, I know he’s drunk,” you say, not certain if you were saying it more to comfort him or yourself.

Theo ignores you however, turning his attention back to the door.

“Let us in, I just want to pet the cat,” he tells the door, swaying ever so slightly.

For Salazar’s sake. Man gets absolutely wasted and just wants to pet your cat. You go to grab onto Theo to steady him, but he has other plans. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your hair.

“Hi,” he mumbles, picking you up just enough that your toes barely touch the ground. “I missed you. Can we see the cat now?”

Not knowing what else to do, you glance helplessly at Enzo.

“Would you be able to get Matteo up the stairs?” You ask.

“I can try. He’s a stubborn bastard though.”

You turn back to the door, knocking once. The eagle once again moves to life, glaring at the scene in front of it.

“If the day before yesterday was the 23rd, what is the day after tomorrow?” It asks crankily.

“We’re too fucking wasted for this bloody bullshit,” Matteo moans from the floor.

You try to ignore Theo’s tight grasp on your waist and Enzo prodding at Matteo with his foot before answering. “The 27th.”

The door swings open and you try your best to haul Theo through, Enzo following closely behind with a very disgruntled Matteo. Dragging the boys up the staircase feels like the most difficult task of your life as you constantly tell Matteo to lower his voice and mind his mouth while also trying to ignore the very minimal distance between yourself and Theodore. When you finally make it to the top, you rush to herd the boys into your room before slamming the door shut behind you with relief. Theo immediately stumbles over to your bed, collapsing face first in the middle and snatching Gladys into his arms.

“No roommates?” Enzo asks, looking around the room and seeing the single empty bed that you had pushed into the corner at the beginning of the year.

“No, thank Rowena. I would not want to have to explain whatever this is.” You reply, motioning to Theo and Matteo who was now wandering about the room.

“Room’s a mess. Coulda at least cleaned up a bit,” he says, poking at the various books and blank scrolls lying about.

“Had I known I would be having guests at,” you glance at the clock, “almost 2 in the morning, I’m sure I would have.” You say dryly.

Retrieving your wand from your desk, you point it at the spare bed. “Engorgio.” The wooden frame creaks as it expands until it can comfortably fit 2 people. You look at Enzo.

“Good luck with that one,” you say, almost feeling sorry for the boy as Matteo flops onto the bed with a groan.

“Looks like you’re gonna need it more than me,” he replies, gesturing to Theo who was out cold, Gladys trapped and bug eyed in his grasp. With a sigh you and Enzo each resign yourselves to your respective charge.

“Theodore,” you whisper, giving the boy a light shove. No sign of life. You give him a slightly harder shove, allowing Gladys is wriggle out of her prison. Frowning, you sit down on the edge of the bed, using most of your body weight to shove Theo to one side of the bed before sliding under the covers. Now deeming it safe, Gladys hops back into the bed, nestling into your arms happily. You’re about to close your eyes when you feel arms snaking around your waste, pulling you into the very warm chest of Theodore Nott. You freeze, holding your breath, not sure if the boy is asleep or not.

“Goodnight mi amore,” he whispers into your neck, causing the hairs to prickle.

Definitely not asleep.

“Goodnight Theodore.”

You hadn’t had any expectations for the night really, but you definitely had not expected to have multiple overnight guests who were trying to steal your cat. And you most certainly did not expect to drift off in the arms of Theodore Nott.

The next morning you wake up missing the usual lump of fur weighing down on your chest. Immediately you bolt upright, eyes shooting around for any sign of your furry companion before the events of last night wash over you. Enzo and Matteo are both still out cold and when you look down, your jaw drops open. Theo is fast asleep, back facing you, Gladys snoozing contentedly while cradled in his arms. Even in his sleep this absolute tosser had managed to steal your damn cat.

Careful not to wake the boys, or Gladys, you silently sneak across the room and disappear out the door. Once you’re safely out of hearing distance, you make your way quickly down the kitchens. A little known fact about the Hogwarts house elves was that many had once served in the homes of different wizarding families at one time or another. This meant that many of the elves were all too familiar with the valuable hangover potion that you sought.

Ducking in through the portrait hole, it wasn’t difficult to persuade the elves into handing over 3 glistening blue vials. You had always been kind to them, often chatting with them during your visits with the cats.

Your task complete, you made your way back to Ravenclaw tower, taking your time as you didn’t expect the boys to be up any time soon. They really had been plastered. Not even Enzo had been completely sober you recalled.

You’re just passing the entrance to the dungeons when a voice calls out.

“Hey! You!”

You’re ready to continue on your way before noticing that there was no one else in the corridor they could be referring to. You turn to see two girls you recognized as the Greengrass sisters hurrying towards you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the shorter blonde girl says when they get closer. You’re pretty sure that one is Astoria. “You’re the girl Theo has been seeing right?”

You nod your head cautiously. You knew Theo had a reputation for getting around, so if that’s what this was about, things were about to become quite awkward.

“You haven’t happened to see him or Matteo or Lorenzo, have you?” The other girl, Daphne, asks.

“Draco said he saw the three of them leave the party together last night, but no one saw them come back,” Astoria explains.

You feel yourself immediately relax. Good. At least this was something you could help with.

“You two are lucky you found me then I suppose,” you tell them, gesturing for them to follow. “The three of them tried breaking into Ravenclaw tower last night, so I let them crash in my dorm.”

“Oh Salazar. Were they trying to steal your cat? I’m so sorry. When Matteo gets drunk he has a tendency to try and egg Theo on,” Astoria frets.

You give the girls a strange look. “You know about my cat?” You ask, surprised.

“Oh sure,” Daphne replies. “Whole group does really. Boys came back one night going on about how Theo was just smitten with some Ravenclaw with a cute cat. And I can see why. You’re gorgeous by the way.”

You blush at her statement, diverting the subject away.

“The boys should probably still be asleep. I just ran down to the kitchens to get these,” you tell them, brandishing the potions you had gathered. “Once they’ve downed these, they’re all yours.”

Astoria eyes the potions with jealousy and you realize the two girls were probably decently hung over as well.

“Oh you can keep Theo, we were really just looking to collect Enzo and Matt,” Daphne laughs, giving you a sly look. You open your mouth to reply, but stop realizing you had reached your common room door.

After a few attempts, you’re finally able to solve the blasted riddle and the door swings open.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had this many Slytherins in our common room before,” you joke, leading the girls up to your room.

Pushing the door open, you’re unsurprised to see the boys still passed out.

“This must be the infamous Gladys,” Daphne whispers, quietly approaching Theo who was still clutching onto Gladys as if his life depended on it. Again you’re surprised that these girls apparently even knew the name of your cat.

The two coo at the sight of your cat, coming to the conclusion that she was indeed worthy of warranting cat theft before Astoria finally decided it was time for them to get the boys out of your hair. They migrated over to the other side of the room where Enzo and Matteo were sound asleep, leaving you to deal with Theo.

You decide the easiest route, may just be to lure Gladys away, so you fetch her food dish before accio-ing her kibble container. At the sound of her food, Gladys was up and running, darting over for her morning feast. At the sudden loss of fluffy heat, Theo groaned, rolling over, face down into the pillows. After giving Gladys her food, you move back to Theo, giving him a rough shake.

“Come back to bed principessa,” he grumbles, reaching out and flailing his arm in your general direction.

“It’s time to get up Theodore. Come on, I got you three hangover potions,” you say, waving one over his head.

“Did someone say hangover potion? Give,” Matteo demands from the other side of the room. You look over to see Daphne and Astoria sitting on the side of the bed while Matteo and Enzo were groggily waking up.

Pulling out her wand, Daphne gestured for you to toss her the potions which her magic catches easily, levitating the vials over to the other two boys. Matteo snatches one out of the air, quickly downing half before offering the other half to Astoria. Enzo does the same, giving the second half to Daphne who graciously accepts. After a moment, the four of them are looking much more awake.

“Thanks for making sure these three didn’t drown themselves in the lake,” Astoria says, once the potion had really kicked. “And sorry you’re not having more luck with that one. He’s always been a late riser.”

“You’ll be lucky to get him up in the next hour,” Enzo agrees, rising from the bed. “Thanks again y/n.”

The four of them shuffle out of your dorm, a chorus is thanks and apologies strung along until they reached the door. Even Matteo gave you a nod of gratitude. Once they were all gone, you collapse once more onto your bed.

“They finally gone?” You hear Theo ask, as he rolls over to look at you. You nod, faces so close that your noses are practically touching and you can feel small puffs of air as he exhales. “Thanks for last night. I’m sorry for trying to steal your cat.”

You let out a snort at that. “Did you know when I woke up this morning, you had turned away from me completely, and stolen my cat away from me in your sleep?” You ask with a laugh.

Theo at least has the decency to look embarrassed as Gladys joins the two of you once more.

“I should do this more often,” Theo says finally, reaching out to stroke Gladys’s fur.

“What? Get downright plastered and break into my room, or steal my cat?” You scoff.

“Sleep in your bed with you.”

You freeze, looking up to see if the boy was being serious. His eyes blink back at you unwavering.

“You can come back any time,” you tell him, snuggling your way into his chest, ready to fall back asleep in the boy’s arms.

“Will Gladys be here?”

“Oh my god, yes she will be here,” you say dramatically throwing your head back.

Theo grins down at you, leaning in and pressing his lips softly against yours.

“I’m only joking amore,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your nose.

“Of course Gladys would be here, she adores me.”

“Get out of my bed.”

A/N

My biggest regret in life, is being highly allergic to cats </3

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jobean12-blog · 3 months

Text

Life is Good

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 999

Summary: Bucky loves to take care of you even if it means he has to get out of the the warm and cozy bed but he'll be keeping it warm for when you get home.

Author's Note: My sweet friend @sgt-seabass shared this absolutely lovely and adorable tik tok with me and just made me think of this softness with Bucky and Alpine. Thank you love! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft sweet fluff and warm and fuzzy 😁

“You don’t have to bring me to work Buck. Stay in bed!”

Alpine meows in agreement and stretches himself out in the warm spot Bucky just vacated.

“Nah doll face. I’ll take you. I don’t want you going out in this alone.”

You stare at him as he sits sleepily on the edge of the bed and yawns, the backdrop of the neighboring buildings obscured by the flakes of snow fluttering wildly outside but doing little to distract from his perfection.

“Bucky.”

“Doll.”

He gives you a lopsided smile and crooks his finger at you before patting his thigh.

You walk between his legs and sit, curling against his bare chest, still warm from sleep.

“Just need a hug before we go.”

You hum happily into his skin with a soft inhale.

“I should call out…”

“You should.”

“But I have to get this project done.”

“I know baby doll.”

“Alpine?” you ask and peek over Bucky’s shoulder at the white fluff sprawled out on the bed.

The cat doesn’t even lift his head up.

“We all know his answer,” Bucky chuckles. “He’d stay in bed all day.”

You place a soft kiss to Bucky’s neck and nuzzle closer.

“Honestly. Hugs were the best and worst idea. I do not want to get up,” he says. “Ever again.”

“Yeah, I know. Now I’m extra comfy and in my happy place.”

You feel the satisfied rumble that moves through his chest before he presses his thumb under your chin and tilts your face up to capture your lips in a toe-curling kiss.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his mouth.

“Uh huh, I know,” he sighs, kissing you again before he gently sets you down on the bed.

“Gimme five to wash up and change and we’ll go.”

Once Bucky is dressed he appears in the living room and looks you over.

“Do you have everything you need?” he asks.

“Yup!”

He crowds your space and pulls your hat down over your ears before tightening your scarf.

“Lunch?”

“Yes Bucky,” you answer sweetly and pat your bag.

“Snacks?”

He then pulls your gloves from your jacket pockets and motions for your hands.

“Of course,” you reply.

When he has your gloves secured he gives you one more check and nods approvingly.

“Ok, let’s go.”

He gets himself dressed, of course with fewer accessories than you, and holds the door open while reaching out for your hand.

“Bye Alpine,” you yell.

Bucky walks you to the train station, takes the train with you and then walks you to your building before kissing you until you’re overheating. He watches you get inside and waves through the large glass panes until you disappear into the elevator.

The day flies by thanks to all that you have to do but you’re productive and manage to finish early. With excited steps you walk toward the elevator, contemplating calling Bucky to let him know you’re leaving. He insisted on coming back to get you and take you home but you want to surprise him and decide you can make it home just fine on your own.

Your trip back is uneventful and when you reach the door to your apartment you can already smell the familiar aroma of your favorite comfort meal. With a smile you unlock the door and walk inside, softly calling Bucky’s name.

When he doesn’t answer you toe off your shoes and whip off all your warm weather garments then walk to the crock pot on the counter and lift the lid, inhaling with contentment.

The bedroom door is wide open and as you get closer you can see Bucky’s bare foot dangling off the edge of the bed. You inch closer with quiet steps and find him laid out on top of the comforter in nothing but his black boxers.

The curtains that normally cover the large window next to the bed are pushed haphazardly aside, allowing the soft brightness of the snow to bathe the room in a white glow. Everything you can see outside is lined with a neat new edge of dazzling crystals.

As pretty as it all is your eyes quickly move back to the bed and Bucky.

His metal hand is curled around your pillow and his face is smushed into it. Alpine is laying in the small space between Bucky’s bent leg and his arm with all four legs straight out and his furry belly gently rising and falling with his even breathing.

You stare for a few moments before taking your phone out and snapping a photo.

“New lock screen?” Bucky mumbles as he slowly shifts and opens his eyes.

“Definitely,” you giggle.

“How come you didn’t call me doll?”

His voice is stern even though his face is half hidden in your pillow.

“I was done early and wanted to surprise you…surprise!”

He grumbles something about ‘next time you better call because blah blah’ and trails off.

“Get over here doll.”

“That’s my pillow,” you tease.

“Smells so good,” he murmurs with one last nuzzle before holding out his arms and making grabby hands.

You curl into him and after several kisses you ask, “did you fall asleep reading again?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I got the food in the crock pot, had a snack or two then decided to read while I waited for you to call and well…”

“Thank you for cooking. It smells so good.”

“Of course baby doll. It’ll be ready soon.”

“Mm. I don’t want to get up yet.”

“Me either.”

“Meow.”

Alpine stretches and presses himself closer into Bucky while lightly kneading the comforter.

“Hi furball,” you giggle. “Did you help daddy cook?”

Bucky scoffs playfully and tugs you closer into his embrace.

“He’s been in the same spot since you left!”

“He’s living the life!” you muse.

Bucky slides his face closer to yours and holds your gaze while he delicately traces a finger along the curve of your jaw.

“It’s the best life,” he murmurs against your lips.

@lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @kmc1989 @haileygarciasunshine

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky and alpine #alpine barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

Note

we can send in ideas you say 👀 dark! Cory with a reader who’s not so inclined to behave and listen to him, being bratty, turning him away, embarrassing him in public ….. his frail ego would shatter (and who knows what he’d do to her 🫣🫣)

TEMPER TANTRUM

pairing: president!coriolanus snow x fem!bratty!reader

summary: you were the daughter of one of the richest couples of panem. everything you’ve ever wanted, handed to you. coriolanus had a short temper and you were stubborn. who knows what could happen?

warnings: arguments, bratty reader, public scenes, punishments, kinda smutty, fingering, not proof read i’m lazy

a/n: stand up and fight back to that rude bitch babe

they’d messed up your order. again.

you’d ordered three dresses, all pink and one was too small. you’d already returned it multiple times but apparently the shop owner was incompetent. did he know who you were? the first lady of panem deserved nothing but the best and this imbecile couldn’t even do his job.

you’d give him another chance you figured. “soreen!” you shouted out as you heard the pitter patter of footsteps on the floor. “yes mrs snow?” you sighed, “pull the car around please. we’re going down to the genevieve store.” she nodded before scurrying away to arrange your mode of transportation.

the car ride was smooth, much to your relief. you needed at least one thing to go right today, and the car ride helped boost your morale as you pulled up in front of the aforementioned store. “here we are mrs snow.” your driver spoke as he promptly exited the vehicle to open your door, “thank you phillip.” he tipped his cap to you before shutting your door, “i’ll be waiting ma’am.”

the store was quite large, for someone who hadn’t been there before it was quite easy to lose your way. but you knew exactly where you were headed, walking a path of determination as you reached the front desk. a young lady, clearly disengaged from her job sat filing her nails at the desk. “what do you want?” your face twisted into a disingenuous smile, this was going to be fun, you thought. you cleared your throat as you placed your handbag down with care.

“mrs y/n snow, here for adina?” the girl looked close to tears as a string of apologies fell through her lips, “let me go get him, again, i cannot express my apologies mrs snow.” you’d already turned around to sit at one of the many chairs strewn about.

adina was frantic.

he sure as hell wasn’t expecting the first lady of panem, in his store, by herself. nonetheless, he quickly nodded along to her explanation of her dilemma, the dresses, the sizes, the unresponsive customer aid line.

you’d walked out of the store were five new dresses, all free of cost. a successful day in your eyes. the whisperings were there, of how the last store clerk who’d kept you waiting went out of business. or how the cook whose meal caused you to choke had his hand cut off. mistakes were made in the process of the workers bending over backwards to produce the upmost quality service for the presidents darling wife.

who was known for her own expensive tastes.

and god help anyone who kept her waiting.

the dress was for a charity event that night. coriolanus of course didn’t want to go, but it was seen as beneficial to his own cause to be seen out and about, especially at a high profile event. whereas you on the other hand? you’d ordered three new dresses, five now, two new pairs of heels and that jewellery set you’d been eyeing up for a while.

coriolanus wanted to get through the night, that was it. the office was as stressful as ever, his secretary was out sick, so a fill-in took her place, stuttering every time he spoke to her and messed up his meetings of the day. but since marrying you, coriolanus knew nothing was ever easy with you.

you prided yourself on your unpredictability. to keep people on their toes. you loved being able to stick out from the rest, keep people guessing. and most of all, you loved being seen, admired. you were never one to be tame, coriolanus knew it. you always tested his patience and temper.

but this?

you’d worn a burgundy gown, off the shoulder, floor length and a v-cut too low for his likes. the one dress out of five he’d disapproved of. you’d disobeyed him purposefully, coriolanus hoped you’d grow out of old habits, but again they die hard.

the eyes were on you like vultures, his wife.

he’d deal with you later, just get through the night.

“and that dress! it’s certainly, something.” you didn’t know the girls name, but her face seemed familiar. “why thank you! coriolanus had picked out some others but then again what do men know about women’s fashion?” the woman’s slack jaw caused you to giggle, “well aren’t you fiery! the president has a lot on his hands with you.”

you tossed your hair behind as you took a sip from your glass, “well i’m sure if he can handle a whole country,” you leaned in before whispering, “he can try his best to handle me.” coriolanus saw red. one night, without your antics was all he’d wished for. the dress and your behaviour had sent him over the edge.

“miss.” coriolanus acknowledged the woman as he grabbed a hold of your hand, “president snow! how nice it is to see you here, and your donation! how splendid.” coriolanus’s charm seemed to switch on instantaneously, “anything for the, good cause.” coriolanus couldn’t give a flying fuck about the cause let alone remember what it was. “it’s time for us to go.”

you had an image, pristine and clear. a lovely woman, kind and respectful. at times naive but overall a caring wife. your slick words, which charmed any man or woman, your striking beauty and sweet personality.

but at your core you, like your husband. couldn’t care less, it was one of the reasons you got along so well. it was all a facade and coriolanus was the only person who knew the real you. much to his chagrin, the real you was a total bitch. a smooth talker with a pretty face who got everything she wanted. you’d never wanted to marry him in the first place, so it seemed to be your personal mission to embarrass the poor man.

“if you’re tired then head on home love. i know you need your hours of sleep, cranky without them!” you made him sound like child without his favourite toy, unable to go on until he had it again. “sweetheart, you know we go home together. now come along.” his tone was nothing like the fake warmth it mimicked, you were on thin ice. “yes i know, honey, but you’re not incapable of returning home without me now are you? i’m sure the driver remembered the directions for you.” you pinched his cheek. pinched. his. cheek.

you may as well have started praying for your soul.

so he left, alone.

you had no clue as to why you wanted to stay. it’s not as if there was someone actually worthwhile to engage in conversation with, but you just wanted to be out of the house. you had to soak up your time outside while it lasted you assumed. coriolanus wouldn’t be letting you out anytime soon, especially after what you’d said that night.

the door slammed shut as you hung up your coat next to corio’s. you took a deep breath in before exhaling. it was going to be a long night.

“did you have fun?” corio was sat in a large, plush, arm chair, swirling a drink in his hand. you could only wonder how many he’d had in the hours by himself. “i did.” your voice was gentle, the house quiet in the dead of night. but the large mansion echoed, he would’ve heard you anyways.

“hm.” he feigned interest in your response. all he wanted was to put you in your place. “corio?” he turned to view you, whilst you walked over before situating yourself on his arm chair. but as soon as you did his glass clattered onto the side table as he rose up. “we’re going to bed.” you weren’t sure if he’d snap if you protested, your feet were aching and you found it best not to argue.

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy, which is how you ended up fully exposed whilst coriolanus was fully dressed. “please.” you’d been on your back for the last, ten? twenty? “please what?” coriolanus liked to put you in your place, it was one of his favourite things to do since you forgot it so often. “touch me.” his hand slipped into your panties, fingers sliding into your already soaking hole as you clutched onto his shoulders.

he’d been teasing you for what felt like forever and you felt you were finally done with it. “close your eyes.” he whispered as his fingers slid out, eliciting a whine from your throat, but you listened, closing your eyes, wondering what he’d do.

it’d been a minute since corio spoke and you were feeling restless. on one hand you could wait for him to speak up, allow you to open your eyes. on the other, you opened them to peek at what he was doing and he dragged out your punishment.

and to your right lay your husband, asleep. “corio!” you groaned out before shoving his shoulder, “you didn’t think i was going to fuck you tonight? after the shit you pulled? you have fingers, use them.” and coriolanus fell asleep soundly to your attempts to finish off without him.

now that, would teach you a lesson.

#hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #kira and anon chat <3 #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut

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sexlapis · 6 months

Note

Ho! I loooooooveeee your actor toji fics! Is it possible to get added to the taglist? Thank you ~

Also an idea: a bts scene of reader getting sick on set(perhaps even collapsing) due to fatigue and toji taking care of them- I feel like that'd be such a hit ship moment irl :D

thank you for liking my fics <3 you can be added to the tag list 🩵.

and omg yeah i love that idea of reader overworking themselves and toji looking after them :’). and yeah i didn’t make it a behind the scenes clip i made a short fic abt it bc i do not know when to stop.. like give me an idea and i will fly away w it like a bird liek..i don’t even think this is what you asked for srsly…i hope you don’t mind (but i’ll add it to my tojiyn headcanons hehe)

cw: actor toji x actress reader, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, swearing, petnames (‘kid’, ik people don’t like this one but i think it’s so sweet & so toji :)), collapsing, mentions of skipping meals/not eating, poor sleeping habits, feelings of loneliness & inadequacy, crying, toji taking care of reader, i made this way more angsty than you asked sorry :(

wc: 2k+

you dragged yourself through the doors of the studio, immediately bombarded by directors, stylists, scrip writers and other cast members on your way to the dressing room, only fuelling your fatigue and stress.

sleep was a foreign concept at this point. five hours at most. so were healthy, filling meals - the last time you ate was yesterday at noon, and for breakfast today all you had was a cup of coffee, not helping your nervous, exhausted state.

admittedly, you were not doing very well. you felt that your acting was subpar and you felt lonely and isolated on set. while everyone went with their friends for a break or lunch, you sat by yourself in your dressing room, your only company being the silence.

sure, toji was also on set too, but he played a very minor role, so he wasn’t always there. and even when he was sometimes, he would hang out with the other crew members, which wasn’t a problem of course, but it did sting a little when he chose them over you.

you just felt so lonely, anxious and quite frankly upset at yourself and the circumstances you find yourself in.

there are a few knocks at your dressing room door and you weakly tell them to come in.

toji peeks is head in. “hey, kid. we start in five..” he takes a look at your weary face, dark eye bags prominent even through the makeup the stylists caked on and the frown on your lips and just knows something is wrong.

“are you ‘right?” he asks quietly, like you’re a deer who’s about to run away at the slightest of sounds.

“yes, i’m fine.” you lie, a voice in the back of your mind wishing he’d just ignore you like everyone else on this damn set does.

“‘you sure? ‘cause you don’t look-”

“i said im fine! just get out.” you snap, heart beating and breathing heavily at your own outburst.

fuck. you didn’t mean to say that.

but toji doesn’t look offended. he just nods and walks away footsteps fading as you put your head in your hands and sob.

so there you are, acting in front of the camera with your colleague in a scene where toji appears in too and you just seem off. everyone assumes it’s just not your day today and they’re not exactly wrong. you lines were slightly forced, tired and you were jittery and clearly apprehensive, like you didn’t even want to be here.

“cut!” the director calls out, more than annoyed with your behaviour. it was the sixth take and you’re really trying to make it believable, but it’s futile.

“this is the sixth take _____. this is ridiculous. get your act together. let’s take five.”

you look down at your shoes, face hot and chest thudding with embarrassment due to the director calling you out in front of everybody. tears well up in your eyes and you sigh, blinking them away as everyone starts talking again, walking away leaving you standing there like an idiot.

it all becomes too much for you. your empty stomach, oncoming headache, exhausted body, dry mouth, furrowed eyebrows, sweaty palms-

you let your script fall out of your hand as you stumble off the green screen, trying to get to your room before a hand is grabbing your arm. you turn around and it’s toji again.

“hey..” he leans down slightly to your height, scanning you over once. “you don’t look so good, _____-”

you shrug him off, vision becoming blurred with black static and limbs heavy and shaky. “i-i jus’ need to go. to my..uhm-” you stop, rubbing a hand down your face harshly. “i just-”

and then there is black.

౨ৎ

you come to and realise that you are laying on your dressing room couch, staring up at the ceiling. reaching up, you feel a wet, cool cloth on your head. you take it off. still fuzzy and body essentially lethargic, you try to sit up.

“hey, hey, hey.” toji whispers.

oh, toji’s here.

“take it easy.” he helps you sit up on the arm of the couch. he hands you a bottle of water and you drink it like a god.

“wait, what happened?” you ask, still confused and disoriented.

“you fuckin’ fainted that’s what,” he states bluntly. “scared the fuckin’ dogshit outta me.”

“oh.”

toji sits beside you on a chair, looking at you closely. you look down.

“the med team checked you out.” he tells you. “said you fainted, collapsed-whatever the fuck. ‘cos of stress and exhaustion. they even checked your blood sugar and said it was low as fuck.” he pauses. “not dangerously low,” he adds at the sight of your worried expression, “but.. low enough.”

you sigh, falling back on the couch. you think back to how the director shouted at you, how annoyed he was, and how humiliated you felt. tears start to form again and you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to cry in front of toji. you felt like you’ve had enough embarrassment for today.

toji leans forward. “what’s happening with you?”

the way he said it, so soft and concerned, makes the tears fall down and cause sobs to escape your mouth, hiccuped breaths falling from your mouth.

“hey, hey, hey..” toji coos. he reaches to you and makes you sit up again so he can take you into his arms. you let him, sobbing into his shoulder and sucking up all the comfort he gives you. toji’s big hand strokes your hair and the other caresses your back softly.

“shh, sh, sh…” he calms you down a little, you sobs turning into sniffles. he leans back and gives you space but his hands stay planted on your back. “tell toji what’s wrong.”

you hum sadly, looking down and gulping. “i’m..i’m tired. i wanna sleep..”

toji waits for you to continue. he can see you want to say more so he doesn’t hurry you along, he just rubs your back and nods to let you know you’re listening.

“i..” you take a breath, “i dunno what to do..i can’t do this fucking role.. i’m fucking tired half the fucking day and my so called colleagues don’t even like me!” you try to calm yourself down, taking another shaky breath. “and i just feel..lonely all the time..” you cry out the last few words, feeling another sob session coming up and toji pulls you close, letting you ruin his shirt with your tears as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“it’s okay, it’s okay..” he coos, resting his face in your hair.

you both stay like that for a few moments, you weeps dying down before toji talks.

“you can play this part, _____. ‘you have any idea how good your are, huh? you can act circles around half ‘these guys.”

you scoff, pulling your lips together. “i dunno about that..”

“‘m serious. _____, you can act, okay? ‘wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t.”

“yeah but..this one’s hard..” you sigh, voice cracking but toji doesn’t let you start again.

“yeah, acting’s hard. but i can help you,” toji cups your wet face with his hands, wiping the tear streaks that paint you face, “we can all help you. the crew, your friends, that bitchass director. i’ll put a gun to everyone’s head to make them fuckin’ help you with this.”

you giggle at his seriousness and he huffs, relieved that you’re relaxing a little.

“they don’t hate you, y’know. everybody on set. the cast. they just think you’re a little shy and quiet. they don’t hate you, okay?” toji reassures you. you nod absentmindedly and he shakes your head from side to side to make you pay attention, making you smile, eyes crinkling even though they’re still tear stricken. “there she is..who the fuck could hate you, huh?”

“ugh, toji.” you roll your eyes, sniffling and rubbing your face. you pull away from him. “ugh..i just want my bed right now.”

“yeah..i know it ain’t my place but told the director that you’re taking a few days off. you need a break, kid.”

you didn’t even argue with him. you couldn’t.

“yeah, i do.” you agree.

suddenly, a loud rumble from your stomach erupts, it was like an earthquake.

toji laughs. “someone’s hungry.”

you groan. “‘m starving. haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“we’re getting you something to eat.” he states, leaving no room for objections.

toji stands, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, his large, calloused hand dwarfing yours as he helps you stand up. “can you walk?”

“i will if there’s food involved.”

“that’s good.” toji chuckles, “how’s takeout sound?”

a/n: had to write a whole fic abt this i apologise 🥸 will add the tag list later i just keep forgetting the users </3

#📫.toji #📫.answered #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x self insert #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x self insert #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro fanfic #actor!toji #actress!reader #toji zenin x reader #toji zenin x you

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rinhaler · 4 months

Note

MORE UNCLE NANAMI PLEASIEEEE PLEASE 🥺🥺🥺🥺👉🏽👈🏽

++ 𝐡𝐢𝐢, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲/𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 🙈 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐤𝐬𝐣

It's been a while since I did any nanamin stuff hehe (combining two reqs bc u both don't have anything specific heheheee)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, incest, fem!reader, uncle!nanamin, fingering, exhibitionism, public sex ig, squirting, pet names (sweetheart, princess, angel, baby).

words: 1.1k

“W-Wow…” you muse, taking in the decadent atmosphere of the restaurant.

You’ve seldom been to places like this, like when your favourite uncle decides to treat you and your mother to a nice meal when he’s in town. But even then, there is a stark difference from the restaurants back home in the village you live in. It’s magnificent. You may have experienced a similar setting before, but never on a date.

A date with that very same uncle, nonetheless.

“You like it, sweetheart? I’m glad.” he tells you, taking your hand as you're guided by the maître d' to your table. He looks over the top of his menu as he studies your face. You’re so precious, that’s what he thinks as you look over the options and realise you don’t understand what any of them are. “I’ll order for you.” he assures you, taking the menu from your hand and setting it down.

You feel yourself get warmer, a little embarrassed that he picked up on your cluelessness so easily. But you smile, regardless, thanking him.

You’ve been so excited for this little trip since you first heard about it.

“Uncle Nanami wants to know if you’d like to spend the weekend with him?” your mother asked/told you. And, bless her, she had no idea what that would entail.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him. You were hardly surprised when your ankles were practically behind your ears as he drilled his cock in and out of your puffy, slicked up folds, the minute he got you to his house.

You’d been drenched the entire train ride.

“You look so pretty tonight, princess.” he tells you, cupping your face so sweetly with a rough, masculine hand. His singular hand is almost the size of your entire face. He coos at you as your eyelids become heavier, leaning in to place a delicate kiss on your cheek. “I’m so happy you’re here with me. Hopefully your mother won’t object to this being a regular thing.” he smiles.

You’ve been squirming in your seat since before your main course arrived. The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, you forget how naughty your uncle Nanamin can be. Your panties are once again entirely soaked through. He’d mentally noted how much you were wriggling around, though he chose not to comment on it. Not until—

“Can’t sit still for five minutes, hm? What’s wrong?” he asks.

“N-Need you…” you whisper, putting your head down to avert his intense stare. Though you’re soon looking at him again as he tilts your head up by your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze.

“What was that, angel? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Need you… uncle Nanamin, need you real bad.” you pout. And at that, he smirks. You’re a little taken aback as his hand lowers beneath the table. Here? Right here? Your heart pounds as you look around at the other clueless restaurant patrons. This is so unlike him. He’s always so upstanding and discreet. But—

“My my, sweet little girl. You are soaked.” he comments as his fingers breach the hemline of your cotton panties. You bite your lip as his fingers drag up and down the length of your slit. He shushes you as your eyes well with tears, shame and pleasure wrack through you as he finds your slippery clit. And he targets it, skilfully. “Be good for me, be so good for me. If you make a single sound, I won’t touch you for the remainder of the weekend. Do you understand?”

You take his words literally, only nodding as he awaits your answer. It’s near impossible, though, when he makes you feel so good like this. Even with just a few pathetic rubs on your clit, your eyes begin to roll back.

“Na— Nanamin,” you do your best to whisper, his name leaving your lips as a ghoulish gasp. He shushes you, quietly, but it’s loud enough to make a statement. His eyebrows furrow, and you can’t tell if it’s anger or disappointment. You think you’ll die if he stops, though his ministrations haven’t ceased yet. Maybe you were quiet enough to test the boundaries of what he actually meant.

He doesn’t want you to cause a scene.

“Kiss me, please.” you whisper again. And that softens his features. He pities you, you think, although that assumption proves wrong as he indulges you. He closes the distance between you without letting up his gentle yet purposeful touches on your pretty pearl. You’re a little surprised when you feel his tongue enter your mouth, something you’ve never known him to do in public before. “I— I love you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles into your kiss before he breaks it completely. “You’re so close, you’re shaking. Let me see how much you love me. Cum for your favourite uncle, sweetheart, go on.” he instructs you.

He holds one of your hands with his free one while your other one curls into your seat. Your knuckles turn white as you finish, legs trembling and clamping around his hand as you douse his fingers. You can’t believe he’s made you squirt in public. Embarrassment rises through you once more, and you’ve never felt such a scorching temperature in your life.

You look around to see if anyone has noticed, while Nanami withdraws his hand and crosses his ankle over his knee. You watch him as he sucks his fingers clean of the mess, your mess, with a look of contentment on his face. You, however, are panting heavily while you rest your head in one hand on the table. You’re slumped over, and you couldn’t feel more self-conscious.

You don’t exactly look like you belong here.

“Would you be interested in some dessert?” a waiter asks as he approaches, though his question almost evaporates as he looks at you. Your sweat coated skin and your mussed up hair catches him off guard. Your irregular breathing makes him worry for your well-being. “Are you alright, Miss? You look…” he finds himself at a loss of what to even say. He knows he needs to be polite, but you almost look ill.

“She’s fine, just a little warm and worked up.” your dear uncle intervenes, smiling at the waiter graciously as he interlocks his fingers and rests his chin atop them. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m sure you’ll cool down after some ice cream.”

You nod, doing what you can to pull yourself together. You’d hate to embarrass your favourite uncle, after all. What if he doesn’t invite you back to do this again?

“Wonderful, sir.” the waiter smiles as he holds up a pad of paper with a pen to take your dessert orders. “You make a lovely couple, by the way.” you aren’t sure if he’s being polite out of obligation to his job, or if he genuinely feels that way. But you and your uncle share a knowing smile with each other, and yours only grows wider as he brushes a fallen section of hair out of your face.

“We aren’t a couple.” he starts. “I’m her uncle.”

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #uncle nanamin #tw:incest #tw exhibitionism

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lovings4turn · 2 months

Note

helloo don’t mind me!! just here to request the prompt ‘that little panicked reach for them if they trip ever so slightly’ with oscar (i love him i fear) <33

ohhh oscar piastri my fav polite cat <3 thank you sm for sending this in darling ,, hope you like it <3

lazy mornings are a rarity for you and oscar. if oscar doesn't have a team meeting at the break of dawn, you have a morning class or an early shift, or another commitment that requires one of you to rush out of the house before the sun has fully risen.

today, though, you're lucky. neither you nor oscar have anywhere to be, your only plans for the day being to spend as much time together as physically possible and soak up every drop of domestic bliss that you can.

making breakfast together, of course, falls under the umbrella of your designated 'oscar time', as you've so lovingly taken to calling it. and while oscar's desire to follow his meal plan may be strong, but his love for home-made pancakes and chopped fruit is far, far stronger.

the batter is fairly easy to whip up, your half-asleep brain thanking you for the lack of thinking necessary to make your breakfast.

oscar is tasked with manning the stove while you begin to prepare the fruit. though the boy claims he’s an expert at flipping the pancakes, you expect to spend five minutes after eating scraping batter off of the hob. still, his earnestness is nothing but endearing.

with a box of strawberries in hand, you begin to make your way back over to the counter. somehow, the four steps that make up your journey prove too complicated, and you stumble a little as you walk. it's nothing serious; just enough to make you swear under your breath as you lose your footing, yet you remain upright.

the pancake is abandoned, and oscar instantly has a hand on your waist to steady you, usually neutral face painted with an expression of disbelief. you know formula one drivers are expected to have fast reflexes, but it’s as though oscar has trained himself to respond to anything pertaining to you at an almost superhuman speed.

his brows are furrowed, and you want to lean forward and press a kiss against the space between them in order to get him to relax.

"there's no way. you did not just trip over air, y/n."

"sorry. i was just falling for you," you respond in a sing-song tone, flashing oscar the widest, proudest grin you can muster.

silence.

"ugh," he groans, nose scrunched in faux disgust. "you're so cheesy."

"and you love it," you hum, playfully tapping the flushed tip of his nose with a teasing smile.

"yeah, yeah, i'll just let you fall next time, darling" oscar grumbles, though the corner of his mouth is quirked up into a fond smile. "i'm sure the cold kitchen tiles'll humble you a little.”

your jaw drops in shock, and as you search for a witty retort, your eyes land on oscar’s pancake. still wrapped up in his act of chivalry, eyes not having left your frame yet, your boyfriend fails to notice his culinary masterpiece is quickly overcooking.

you sniff once, then once again, plastering a look of confusion onto your face before you speak.

“do you smell burning?”

“fuck!”

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri drabble #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you

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ennabear · 2 months

Note

i saw you do an abby on vday could you do ellie ?🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 thank you‼️ (if not that’s fine) ALSO HAPPY VDAY KIND STRANGER

ellie on valentine’s day

sorry this is late i hope you’ll still love me 😞 happy late valentines bae and thx for the ask 🤗

links on donation and info on palestine

❥ you’d wake up to ellie sleeping completely on top of you, shaggy auburn hair overspread your face. her sleeping head was still tucked into your neck as your eyes adjusted to the bright morning light.

❥ the clock read 11:14 am. ellie and you weren’t too big on making plans, but you knew that if you wanted a chance to get out of bed, it had to be soon. no matter how many soft kisses you pressed to her freckled cheeks, or soft fingers that smoothed the hair on her head, she wasn’t budging.

❥ in fact, she didn’t wake up until you rolled her over and stripped the blankets from her. a soft whine came from her lips as she stuffed her face into the pillow. poor ellie, it was valentine’s day and her cruel girlfriend wouldn’t even let her sleep in!! :(

❥ after a bit of back and forth, you agreed to getting breakfast at a small downtown diner if she promised to get out of bed and get dressed. her outfit consisted of your jeans, your belt, your shirt, and one of her own hoodies.

❥ the diner was practically empty, the only other people there were an old couple and a few waitresses. ellie insisted on sharing a milkshake with two straws, just like they do in the movies. chocolate, of course, because ellie has the diet of a five year old.

❥ walking back home was nice, ellie kept one sturdy arm around your shoulders and you wrapped one around her waist. the february chill turned ellie’s spotted nose a rosy shade of pink, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giving it a soft kiss.

❥ you agreed to cook dinner that night. one of ellie’s love languages was food, and the greatest gift you could ever give her was a warm, home cooked meal. as you cooked, she set the table and lit a cinnamon scented candle.

❥ dinner was romantic. ellie brought out the joke book and gave you a show of corny valentines themed jokes and gross pick up lines. you giggled anyways, because she had such a way of charming you.

❥ the night ended with sloppy, half asleep grinding. your clothes were on the floor, her bare hips crashed onto your thigh as she chased yet another high. soft, warm kisses placed on cheeks and necks, along with pleads of “i love you” before falling asleep with her in your arms.

#guys pls send me more asks i swear i don’t bite 🙈#ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #the last of us #lesbian

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luvjunie · 10 months

Text

— Unforgettable ( 1 )

part one • part two • part three • part four

pairing: e-1610!miles morales x fem!reader

contains: miles rizzing you up after knowing you for two seconds, a beef patty changing the entire course of trajectory for your life. nothing too major

summary: a bump in with a certain boy at the bodega threatens to ruin your previously perfect afternoon until he offers to fix it. you assumed things would end there, and then you ran into him again. wc: 1,634

a/n: this was originally going to be one long fic but i decided to split it up, and i’m estimating around four, maybe five chapters in total. also, chapter one is cute but i thought i should let y’all know that two of them will contain some angst/conflict! this is the first series i’ve ever written so it won’t be the best, and i’m still deciding if i like how i mapped out the rest of the story so please bear with me if updates are a tad irregular 😅

To think, a damn beef patty is what started it all.

A beef patty that had tumbled out of your hands, down the sweater you’d just taken to the laundromat— your favorite one, at that— and onto the dirty bodega floor when a hard surface came in contact with you on your way to leave.

“Oh shit—“

“Jeez, what the hell man!”

You lunch gone and your good mood with it, your head lifted a great distance from the murder scene at your feet to meet the apologetic face of who had committed this unjust crime against your rumbling stomach.

“I am so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going…” The boy in front of you murmured sheepishly, palm dragging at the back of his neck.

Lips pursed, your forefinger and thumb pinched at the bridge of your nose as you willed yourself to refrain from cursing him out. New york already had enough of that, you decided as he continued apologizing.

“It’s my fault. I bumped into you, it’s fine.” you grumbled curtly, clearly irked. Shifting the blame onto yourself was your best attempt at keeping your anger at bay. The last thing you wanted to do was cut up in this nice man’s shop, especially not on a Sunday.

With a heavy sigh and a scratch to your brow, you crouched down and swiftly scooped the discarded meal off the floor with a napkin. Great, money down the drain.

“Let me buy you another one.” He said to the top of your green adidas beanie, palms pushed together to accompany his plea.

“No need.”

“I really wanna buy you another one.”

You shot up and tossed the remnants into the trash, your frustration evident in how much forced you used. “Dude, it’s—“

“I’m buying you another one.” he insisted, chin raising when he hollered at the clerk. “Yo, Lenny, lemme get another beef patty, man.”

He shuffled past you before you could decline again, the man behind the counter already sliding a fresh one past the register after having witnessed the run in.

You stared at the back of this stranger, brows furrowed incredulously. He was nice, which was unusual for someone in this city, so your innate response was to be annoyed at his persistence. People were always bumping into you and ruining your day, but no one had ever offered to fix it before.

“That’s the last one I got for the day, Miles.” Lenny, the owner of the shop informed apologetically, his Jamaican accent heavy on his tongue. He knew the boy usually came into his store around this hour for one thing, and it was always for one of his beef patties.

“It’s cool, don’t sweat it.” Waving him off, Miles slapped the cash down onto the counter and snatched the pastry up.

“Here,” He turned to you just as you were brushing your hands off onto your dark-wash jeans, breath held with what he hoped would be a peace-offering, extended out to you. “I’m sorry, again.”

You looked up at him, then back down at the patty in his hand before you gently accepted it, the pads of your fingers lingering in his palm when you did so.

“Thank you,..” trailing off, you blinked up at him, a silent request for his name. He was tall, kind of lanky, and had the prettiest brown eyes you’d probably ever seen. They stared back at you, appearing puzzled before he put the pieces together.

“Oh!— Miles.” he answered with a warm smile, hands tucking into the pockets of his jacket. It was green, your favorite color.

“Thank you… Miles.” you returned his smile with a smaller one, something about it contagious.

Caught up in the way you said his name for a moment, it wasn’t until you were already halfway out the door when he realized you hadn’t told him yours.

“Wait! I didn’t get your—“ he called out to the air, the bell on the shop’s door a taunt of his failed attempt. “Name.” he murmured, shoulders falling with a sigh.

He felt eyes on him and turned to the side, lips smacking against his teeth in annoyance at who’s stare he’d caught.

“Don’t be mad at me, man. You gotta step ya game up.” Lenny threw his hands up in surrender and stifled a laugh, shaking his head at the boy.

Even though he had nothing to be smiling about when he exited the small store—seeing as he was out of five dollars and still hungry—Miles found himself walking home that day with a smile etched onto his face, a little pep in his step and something to keep his mind busy.

Nothing happened, that was obvious, but for some reason he felt like this wouldn’t be the last time he saw you.

—

Exactly one thing was on your mind the next time you entered Lenny’s shop, and he already knew what it was before you’d opened your mouth to ask after approaching the register.

Well, maybe two things, but the second one wasn’t necessary to get into.

“Comin’ righ’tup, sweetheart.” He nodded at you.

“Thanks.” You smiled sweetly, idly tapping your hands against the counter during your short wait.

The white parchment paper cradling your all time favorite snack slid over to you a minute later. You paid quickly, your stomach rumbling just from smelling the savory treat.

Just as you went to turn around, you spotted that same boy who’d ran into you a week ago and nearly ruined your day. Miles, you remembered his name was, as you stuck an apprehensive hand out in front of you, patty pulled close to your chest and brows raised in warning.

“Chill,” He laughed, his hands shooting up in defense. “I’m out your way this time, promise.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, his playful demeanor rubbed off on you. “You better be.”

“Please don’t tell me you got the last one.” He pleaded with hopeful eyes, but wishful thinking never did much for him.

“She sure did.” Lenny called from behind the counter, eyeing Miles closely to see if he’d take the bone he threw. He then ticked his head to the side with a slightly widened stare, as if urging the disappointed boy to make a move.

“Woops.” Using your fingers, you ripped a piece off the patty and popped it into your mouth, shrugging as you brushed past Miles, who had just caught on to what the shop owner did for him.

With your back to him as you pushed the door open to outside, you missed the two fingered salute Miles shot towards the man as a thank you.

He followed after you, swiftly shouldering himself through the closing door and sliding outside, into step with you.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you my number for half of it.” He offered with a boyish grin, long legs able to keep up with ease.

You nearly choked, steps halting when you spun around to face him. What made him think you wanted his number? And maybe you did, because you definitely thought he was cute, but that was besides the point since he didn’t know that.

“Are you flirting with me?” you asked, and he perked up a bit.

“Depends. Is it working?”

You rolled your eyes. “How about my name first?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the side of the building a bit. “I kinda assumed that was a package deal, seeing as I’ll need something to save your contact under.”

Okay, you’ll admit it, that was smooth.

You put your hand on your hip, patty in the other with your head tilted in thought. “Somehow, I feel like this deal benefits you more than me.”

“That‘s possible.” Miles chuckled, and you can’t believe that’s all it took to convince you. How pretty he looked when he laughed. How good your name sounded rolling off his tongue when he’d repeated it back to stake it within his memory.

You quietly hummed to yourself, contemplating. You’d never accepted a guy’s advances this easily, and figured you’d test him in a way he’d most likely fail.

“Quick, what’s my favorite color?”

There was a pause.

“Green.”

Your jaw dropped. “What— How in the hell?” You gaped at him. “How did you know that?”

“You give away more than you know with your eyes.” He grinned. “Saw you eyeing my jacket last week, and you’re doing it again today. And your beanie, too.” With a raise of his eyes from yours, he pointed out the forest green hat pulled snug over your head and your hand mindlessly went to touch it. “But honestly, I was only like, seventy percent sure, so maybe you can call it a lucky guess.”

You quirked a brow. “Oh, so you think I’m checking you out now?”

“No, but I wouldn’t mind.”

Well, you’d managed to lose at your own game, fair and square. Holding his gaze for a minute, you had to restrain a smile from splitting through your calm and collected facade and shooed away the urge with a clearing of your throat.

“Phone.” You held your hand out, beckoning him for it.

Fetching it from his pants pocket, he did the same to you with his other hand, palm upwards. “Patty.”

Huffing in frustration, you awarded him the half he earned and snatched the device, ignoring the triumphant look on his face as you punched your digits in.

—

It was pitiful. It barely took anything for you to take interest in a guy in general— but even if your standards were ridiculously high, there was no doubt that Miles would have weasled his way into your thoughts regardless.

You’d checked your phone at least six times in the past hour in hopes of seeing a text, coming up with unconvincing excuses like checking the time, or the weather— all while blatantly pretending to be oblivious towards the possibility that a message from an unknown number might just be there, too.

And then it came.

[Unknown]: Best patty I’ve had in a while. Food always tastes better when it’s not yours :)

He had you on your stomach, features pulled into a hopeful smile with your legs fluttering in the air off one message. You’d remind yourself to get a grip in due time.

Who’s this?

You knew damn well who it was. But you wouldn’t be who you were if you didn’t play hard to get.

[Unknown]: Damn, you forgot about me that quickly?

You clicked the info button in the top right corner of your phone and saved him as a contact before you replied.

Maybe. Remind me of your name again? Micah, right?

[Miles]: Okay, now that’s just hurtful. I do not look like a Micah!

You laughed to yourself at that, flopping onto your back as you typed a response. In the back of your mind you wondered if things would progress any further than this conversation.

But if only you could’ve time travelled and spoken to your future self, because she would’ve told you that forgetting about a boy like Miles Morales, or trying to, would be impossible.

tags: @cctoma

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse fanfiction #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x black reader

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dont-touch-the-phlebotinum · 11 months

Text

The first time Eddie calls Wayne 'Dad' he's three years old. He's been staying at Wayne's for a few days now; dropped off by his parents without warning and with the vague promise that they'd be back for him soon, already screaming at each other before they're back in the car and speeding off out of sight. Wayne doesn't even have a change of clothes for him, doesn't have any toys or books or much of an idea how to take care of a toddler. Luckily the kid seems happy enough getting into every nook and cranny of the trailer, and toddling around watching Wayne clean up in Eddie's wake like a particularly rambunctious shadow.

Right now he's sat on the kitchen floor, one of Wayne's baseball caps hanging off his tiny head, bashing happily at the array of pots and pans he's dragged out of the cupboards. It's one hell of a racket, but after three days of this either Wayne's headache can't get any worse or he's starting to get used to Hurricane Eddie. Besides, it's good to see the boy having fun, unbothered by whatever chaos has been going on at home.

The crashing comes to a sudden stop, silence ringing through the trailer, and Wayne looks over to see Eddie swaying in place, blinking like he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The boy's like a puppy, Wayne's learning. Either he's bouncing off the walls or he's asleep, not a whole lot of in-between.

"You tired, kid?"

"No," says Eddie, even as his head droops and a yawn near bigger than he is shakes its way through him.

"Uh-huh. Come on, Charlie Watts; let's get you to bed."

Eddie lets Wayne scoop him up into his arms with only a half-hearted whinge in response. He doesn't even have the energy to fight off Wayne's attempts to brush his teeth and scrub away the grime Eddie somehow manages to accumulate over the course of a day, already drifting off against Wayne's shoulder as he carries Eddie down the hall and tucks him into bed.

"Night, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Dad," Eddie murmurs as Wayne's about to turn off the light.

He freezes in place. The hell's he supposed to say to that? Your dad's not here, kid; God only knows when he's coming back? There's no need to upset the boy. But there'll be hell to pay if Wayne's brother comes back for Eddie only to find out he's taken to calling Wayne 'Dad' instead.

Luckily for Wayne, Eddie's fast asleep before he can figure out what to say for the best.

He presses a kiss to Eddie's mop of curls, and closes the door behind him.

Eddie's nine years old now. He's still short, still so skinny he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life, close to bald 'cause the kid can't go two weeks without catching lice, but he seems happier these days than he has in a good long while. That's all that matters to Wayne.

It's his first birthday since Wayne officially became Eddie's guardian – probably the first birthday anyone's ever given a shit, considering the way Eddie's eyes turn to saucers when Wayne hands him his gift.

"Holy shit!" Eddie says as he opens the case and pulls the acoustic guitar from inside. It's not much, just a beaten up old thing Wayne bought off one of the guys at work, but Eddie clutches it reverently, pulls it into his lap like he's amazed he's being allowed to touch it.

"Watch your language," scolds Wayne. He doesn't have the heart to be stern, though. Not when Eddie's staring down at the guitar as if it's the greatest thing he's ever seen.

He watches with a smile as Eddie plucks tentatively at the strings. Maybe he'll come to regret giving Eddie a way to make even more noise than usual, but it might at least manage to hold his focus, maybe even keep him still for more than five minutes at a time.

And God knows, after the past couple years the kid deserves something special.

"You like it?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Dad." Eddie's head snaps up, and his grin falters as he looks over at Wayne sat beside him. "Uncle Wayne, I mean," he says quickly. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He gives Eddie a gentle pat on the back. It's enough for the kid to brighten up again, his attention already back to his guitar, the moment forgotten. "Now how 'bout you take that to your room and start practicing while I fix us some breakfast?"

"Birthday pancakes?" says Eddie as he follows Wayne into the kitchen with a hopeful grin, still clutching the guitar against his chest.

"I don't remember promising birthday pancakes."

"I remember, old man."

"Who're you calling old, you little punk?" Wayne says, and shoos Eddie back out of the kitchen. "Go on, get out of here."

He watches Eddie bound down the hall to his bedroom, and after a moment the first clumsy notes fill the trailer.

When Eddie's fourteen Wayne gets a call from the sheriff's office, and he arrives at the station to find Eddie cuffed to one of the desks, sullen and stubborn and looking too much like Wayne's brother for comfort. It's not the first time Eddie's landed himself in trouble, but it is the first time the cops have been involved.

He just prays it'll be the last. Wayne's seen this story play out enough times to know how it usually ends.

When he catches sight of Wayne waiting for him, Eddie just rolls his eyes.

"I 'spose you're about to tell me it was all Jeff's idea," says Wayne once they've piled back into the truck and put the police station firmly in the rear-view. He's not expecting an answer, doesn't expect Eddie to grunt more than a few words at a time to him lately, but the awkward silence is still too alien for him to let it sit.

"It was my idea."

"So you're stealing cars now, huh?" He keeps his tone light, as if they're just talking about Eddie's latest obsession, like always. As if his newfound hobby isn't breaking into cars over in Loch Nora.

"I wasn't gonna steal–" Eddie starts, before he's clamping his mouth shut like don't talk to cops extends to Wayne as well now. He glares back out of the window.

"You know next time it happens the sheriff ain't gonna be so lenient."

"Thanks for the lecture, Dad." Eddie lets out a bitter laugh that can't quite mask the hurt behind it. "Oh, wait a sec…"

Wayne sighs. The subject of Eddie's dad has come up enough times these past few months they're gonna have to have a good long talk about him sooner or later. "That what this is about?"

"No."

"But he's been on your mind, right?"

He glances over at Eddie. He's slumped even lower in his seat, arms folded tight across his skinny chest, and determinedly not making eye contact.

"Trust me, kid, he ain't anything worth looking up to."

"Yeah, well what if I'm a screw up just like he is?"

"You're not."

Eddie scoffs. Wayne watches him until the light up ahead turns green.

"The way I see it," he says, "your life's 'bout to fork in two different directions. You keep on down this road, you end up either dead or in a cell right next to your old man's."

Eddie's quiet beside him, but Wayne can tell he's listening, can see the little furrow to his brow as he turns the words over in his mind.

"Or, you take all that pain and anger you got inside you, and you turn it into something worthwhile."

Finally, Eddie looks back at him. "Like what?"

"Don't have to be big. Don't have to be important. All that matters is it means something to you."

They slip back into silence for the rest of the drive, but it's a more comfortable kind this time, a thoughtful kind of silence. Wayne kills the engine and they climb out onto the dirt in front of the trailer.

"Uncle Wayne?" says Eddie, his voice small. He's still lingering by the truck when Wayne peers back at him.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry," he says. "For being an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Ed. And you ain't about to turn into one. Not on my watch."

Eddie's mouth twitches. It's not a smile, but it isn't far off. "Promise?"

"Yeah, kid. I promise," says Wayne with a smile of his own, and he curls an arm around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him tight as he steers them inside.

At nineteen, Eddie's lying in a hospital bed.

Wayne's been sat at his bedside for God only knows how long at this point – the days have blurred into a steady stream of doctors and beeping machines, hours and minutes fallen to the wayside. The only time he leaves Eddie's side is when Eddie's friends come by to keep their own vigil.

They're all still waiting for him to wake up.

One hand clasping Eddie's, Wayne reads the paper to him to pass the time. He knows Eddie doesn't much care about what's happening out in the real world, and nor does Wayne right now, but any books of Eddie's are lost in whatever mess the quake left of their trailer, and Wayne needs something to keep his eyes from the angry red bruises circling Eddie's neck.

He looks like he's been strung up. The way the town has been baying for Eddie's blood, it wouldn't be much surprise. The rest of his injuries, though – well, no-one seems to have any explanation for those.

Maybe one day Eddie will be able to provide one himself.

There's a tiny noise above him, and Wayne's head snaps up to Eddie's face. He's watched every flutter of Eddie's eyelids, every twitch of his fingers, heart in his throat until the moment passes and Eddie sleeps on. But this time, Eddie stirs.

"Eddie?"

"Dad?"

He frowns with the effort of cracking his eyes open, struggling under the weight of his own body.

"It's all right," Wayne says. He brushes his thumb over Eddie's cheek, careful to avoid the stitches, and squeezes the hand tucked in his tighter. Eddie grips him back. "I'm right here."

Eddie's bleary eyes focus on Wayne, crinkling at the corners with the smile that spreads across his face. "Dad," he rasps again as tears spill down his cheeks.

Wayne's face is wet with his own as he presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead. "Welcome back, son."

#wayne is eddie's dad i don't make the rules #eddie munson #wayne munson #munson family feels #stranger things fic #stranger things #my writing

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fallingdownhell · 11 months

Note

Hello!! If your requests are open do you have any plans on writing something similar to genshin men forgetting your birthday but with different characters? :D maybe diluc and/or kaeya for example

Sure can do! Angst will always be my favourite!

Characters Included: Diluc; Kaeya

Content: gender neutral reader; hurt/no comfort; angst; the boys don't realize their mistakes; cursing; not proofread yet

Word count: 1,3k words

Enjoy the heartbreak<3

Diluc

Being with Diluc was exhausting sometimes. And sometimes, it felt like you were in no relationship to begin with. You knew that protecting the city and it's people was important to Diluc, but.. sometimes you just wished to be his number one...

Sometimes, you really wonder how you managed to stay in this relationship for three long years without any issue.. then again, its not like it has always been this way.

The first two years were amazing. Diluc was an attentive lover, always concerned about your well being, that you felt comfortable with him. Only recently did that seem to change. He had less and less time for you, always coming back home in the dead of night and left before you woke up in the morning.

You tried to deal with it somehow, since talking to him about it was apparently no option, seeing as he always pushed you away when you tried approaching the topic with him.

But today... today might just be your last straw..

In all the three years with him, Diluc has always made it a point to make your birthday a most special occaison. Telling you weeks in advance to clear this day up since he wanted to spend it with you. He always planned something different, but you loved it each time.

This year, however, nothing came from him. No notice to keep your calender clean, nothing.

You thought, that when you spotted him in bed next to you this morning, maybe you just thought wrong and he wanted to surprise you.

But when he woke up, no words of gartulations left his mouth. Instead, he simply got up, got dressed and went out again, but not before telling you that he would be back for dinner tonight.. which was a rare occaison as well.

You tried so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt.. going about your day at the mansion, going on a walk in the nice, afternoon soon as people from the Dawn Winery congratulated you for your special day. You thanked them, while trying to keep your composure.

Nothing meant anything to you when the person closest to you didn't remember it themselves...

Night came, and with it came dinner time. Adelinde took the time out of her day to prepare a full on five course meal, all consisting of your favourite dishes. You told her multiple times that this wasn't necessary at all, but she wouldn't have it. So, as fate would have it, you were now enjoying the food... however, alone.

Diluc has yet to show up, but not wanting to let the food get cold, you decided to just start eating.

Later on, you realized that the dissapointment washing over you didn't even face you anymore, having expected this outcome already.

So, you ate quietly, until the door to the mansion opened, revealing the owner of Dawn Winery himself.

"Diluc!", you exlaimed, standing up from your seat, a smile on your lips. He came after all...

But he immediately put a damper on your mood as he raised his hand, a deep sigh escaping him as he threw his coat off.

"Please, not now, (name). I'm exhausted."

With that, he went directly for the staircase, not even acknowloding anything else around him.

"But.. don't you wanna join in for dinner? There's a lot left and-!"

"I said, not now!", he suddenly yelled at you.

You were shocked, looking at him like a deer caught in headlight. Regret briefly washed over him for raising his voice at you, but he chose not to say anything. Instead, he turned around again and made his way up the stairs where he immediately went into his office, looking himself away from you again.

You watched after him, slumping back into your chair as he was out of sight. You tried so desperately to hold back your tears but they came crashing out of you as soon as you saw Adelinde leave the kitchen, a big birthday cake in her hands.

She gave you a weak, sympathetic smile as she sat down next to you on a chair, patting your back gently as you let the dissapointment sink in..

Kaeya

You were maneuvering your way through the many people in your living room, trying to get to your balcony, hoping to get some fresh air and clear your thoughts.

Lisa planned this whole thing perfectly. Keeping you busy the entire day with her while everyone else was preparing your surprise birthday party in your home.

You had not expected anything like that, especially not after the dissapointment you recieved this morning already. Kaeya has never once failed to remember any special day during your relationship. Be it a birthday, an anniversary or anything like that. You never had to remind him, he just always knew and was prepared.

So, naturally, you didn't feel the need to remind him that your birthday was coming up, thinking that he was already aware of that fact.

However, when you woke up this morning, everything was far too normal. He was still sleeping beside you, cuddling with you for a few more minutes, before you both got up and he left for work.

No congratulations, no gift, no nothing. He didn't say anything at all...

You were feeling kinda down after that, slumping around in your home.. That's when Lisa came over and practically forced you out the house. She congratulated you, then took you shopping, to lunch and so on.

She kept you busy the entire day and the incident with you boyfriend went farther and farther to the back of your mind.

That was, until you returned back to your house. Suddenly, the lights switched on before you could even do anything. People jumping out from all around, yelling "Surprise!", at you, while laughing at your flabbergasted reaction.

A surprise party.. now Lisa's behaviour made sense to you. Your mood lightened up, thinking that it must have been Kaeya's doing and planning.

You thanked everyone that came up to congratulate you, making small talk with them while trying to scan the people for your boyfriend. When you didn't see him anywhere, you went to ask Lisa about him, but she said she had no idea where he was..

This dampened your mood again, so you decided to get some fresh air, maybe that would help cool you off again.

As you were outside on the balcony, you saw Kaeya approaching your shared home. Excited, you went inside again to meet him at the front door. But when you opened it, you were met with a seemingly bad mood from your boyfriend.

Before you could ask him what was going on, he already started complaining. "Seriously? Are you for real?"

"What?", you just said, confused on what he meant. But that just seemed to frustrate Kaeya even more.

"So, everyone leaves work, leaving all of it for me to deal with, just because you decided to throw a fucking party? I've had a fucking exhausting day, (name). How do you expect me to relax with this many people here, huh?"

"I-It wasn't my-!"

"Oh, don't give me that crap! Who else if not you would plan such a thing, and in our house as well? You know what, I'm gonna leave. I'll sleep somewhere else for the night!"

And before you could say anything else, he had already turned on his heels and was walking away. You had no idea what this was about and what caused his outburst..

You were so confused about what was going on, but you felt the tears running down your face as you fell on your knees right there at the open front door while the party was still going behind you...

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cloudcountry · 11 months

Note

the song from ratatouille is stuck in my head so…

housewardens + rook waking in on thier s/o “cooking dinner” but in reality it’s being cooked by a French rat

SUMMARY: Their S/O cooking dinner with a multitalented rat they found in Ramshackle.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: my character limit is five so i picked the housewardens C: i woke UP to this request and i was like ".,,,,,.,. What" HELP

also, i decided that ramshackle would have rats because its old and that mc could bond with them because its Twisted Wonderland and they're bonding with ghosts so its not even weird.

rip to anyone that goes by remy /lh

Riddle does a double take, but is honestly not that weirded out by you and the rodent’s...cooperation. After all, The Queen of Hearts had many critters in her kingdom that helped out with various tasks.

He would eat the dinner without complaint and thank you for letting him stay over, still as formal as ever. When you’re insistent that he should thank the rat instead, he turns his attention to him and thanks him for the meal.

The rat, which you call Remy, squeaks back. Riddle nods thoughtfully and smiles, leaving you wondering what exactly your new friend said. Curse your inability to learn animal linguistics!

Azul is worried about the sanitation of your kitchen when he sees you making dinner with a rat. Wait...wait, a rat? You’re making dinner with a rodent?!

He’s a bit nervous about eating the food, but when he sees you enjoying it, he tentatively takes a bite. It doesn’t help that the rodent you called Remy is staring at him expectantly.

Azul is pleasantly surprised when it’s good!! Starts coming up with a scheme to get Remy in the Mostro Lounge kitchen. If you’re wondering why your lover is squeaking at him and Remy’s squeaking back, that's why.

Kalim doesn’t even blink. Of course you’re friends with the little guy!! Aww, his name is Remy? What a nice name!! Kalim thinks all you need to be friends with animals is kindness and compassion so this isn’t weird to him at all.

He eats the meal Remy and you prepared for him without batting an eye. He praises everything about it and shakes Remy’s little paw. Kalim earned a new friend that day.

Once he goes back to his dorm and tells Jamil about his meal that was made by you and your rodent friend named Remy, Jamil gets a headache.

Rook sees the rodent in your kitchen and is immediately talking to him like they’re best friends. “Bonjour, monsieur! What meal shall you create for me today?” The rat squeaks back and Rook nods thoughtfully.

“Mon coeur, how did you manage to make friends with a rat when you cannot partake in animal linguistics?” “Uh...I gave him cheese and a strawberry and he was super into it. Also he’s a good cook and a good baker. He squeaked very loudly at me when I mixed up the baking powder and baking soda.”

Rook savors the meal and swoons in his chair. Remy looks pleased, and you’re glad he isn’t weirded out by your boyfriend’s antics.

Idia is used to eating shitty packaged food, so you insisted on making him a meal. You did not tell him that you made meals with a rodent that you made friends with and he apparently has a name?!

He doesn’t want to offend this Remy guy, so he eats what’s in front of him. He’s weirded out when it tastes good and thinks that maybe, just maybe, this rat had some crazy secret super rare ingredient that made everything taste delicious.

When you ask him what he thought, he mumbles about how it was nice. He guesses. Ortho is thrilled to hear about this little rat chef and drags Idia over to Ramshackle the next door, much to Idia’s shame and embarrassment.

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

Text

SALT (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2.8k Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.

Content Warnings: imbalanced power dynamics, bribery, workplace manipulation, NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit language, risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)

Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).

tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917

“You’re not serious, Stanley.”

“I am.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”

“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”

When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him.

You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”

“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters.

You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras.

There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table.

“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.

“Thank you,” you replied.

“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said.

“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly.

Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours.

“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”

“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment.

Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way.

“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped.

You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face.

“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“

He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question.

“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”

“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back.

“Of course,” he responded.

You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”

You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you.

“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”

You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched.

He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you.

His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter.

“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”

“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”

Your brow furrowed.

“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips.

“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you.

Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…

“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.”

“I can–“

“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”

“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.

“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.

“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you. “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”

When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”

He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you’ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.”

Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder.

He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”

He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel.

For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer.

He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him.

He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”

His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”

And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort.

His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy.

You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.”

He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.

“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”

He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers.

You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering.

“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure.

Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted.

“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted.

Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements.

You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release.

He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”

Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him.

You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest.

He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again.

“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word.

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

LINK TO PART TWO: FAT

#mob!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #navy and roo's sleepover #navy and roo sleepover #bucky smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob boss!bucky #mob boss au #mob boss! avengers #f!reader #aspen wrote something #female reader

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unholyhelbig · 4 months

Note

the oversight part 5? i love that series!

Title: The Oversight [Part 5/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 7589

Warnings: Blood, guns, general violence, empty threats, angst, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: Listen, I straight up just finished watching 'The Iron Claw' and if you value your ability to hold it together, I suggest not seeing it. But also... go see it because it's phenomenal. Oh, and Happy Holidays!, like with most things, I regret my direction on this.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Softly, you denied the small wooden bowl that was passed person to person, filled with numbers scribbled haplessly on strips of paper. There was a pit of guilt in your stomach for not bringing a white elephant gift- but as the honorary plus one of Darcy Lewis you succumbed to your fate. She’d drawn a middle grade number and sidled up next to you with her third vodka tonic.

You took a swallow of your own cranberry flavored drink, something that masked the sharp taste of alcohol. You were feeling fuzzy, but in the light way that would assure you’d get through the rest of party and the competitive game of gift swapping.

“Thanks for doing this,” Darcy said to you, nudging your shoulder “it was a little too fancy for my liking.”

She had stressed that she needed your presence to get through all the small talk about science. Darcy was an expert engineer but she could only go so far when it came to awkward co-workers murmuring amongst the twinkling Christmas lights and pre-paid meals. She got along well with most, but you could sense her anxiety well.

“Of course, you know I’d never turn down smoked salmon.”

Truthfully, it sounded a lot better than what your own work was planning. It took some quiet background checks and calling babysitting references, but you eventually conceded to a teenage girl that was certified in CPR and didn’t charge interest.

Your own holiday celebration at the Diner had been lackluster and consisted of much more alcohol. This was quiet and subdued, and a welcome break from the usual chaos that surrounded your life. You were more than happy to watch people tear paper from candles and blankets and ornaments.

“How much money do you want to put on Jimmy bringing some sort of magic kit?”

You hadn’t noticed the girl that hugged the side of the bar, waving down the bartender wordlessly. She was drinking something sweet and garnished with orange. She had a beautiful smile and the clearest eyes you had ever seen. Darcy smiled at her with familiarity and it eased you.

“I don’t bet on things I’m going to lose.” Darcy said with finality. “Y/n, this is Monica Rambeau.”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

Her grip was firm, and you squeezed her hand back with the same amount of pressure. Her smile widened at that before the bartender returned with a fresh drink garnished with another twirled orange peel. The two of you separated.

“So, Monica, what do you do?”

Something in science, the answer was obvious if she was at this holiday party. But she humored you all the same, turning her back to the counter and leaning close to you. There was pride in her answer, and it bloomed in her chest.

“I’m a mechanical engineer, specializing in astrophysics and astrobiology.”

“Don’t’ sell yourself short.” Darcy interjected with a watery laugh “She’s the head of our S.W.O.R.D division.”

Darcy had spoken about this before and the name rang familiar. Her company was looking at alternative fuel sources that could supply space exploration. All the while, they focused on vertical growing and bettering the community. From what you understood, this was a big deal. She was a big deal.

“Wow, that’s very impressive Ms. Rambeau”

Your voice was filled with genuine awe, but your conversation was cut short when the number sixteen was called out. Monica sheepishly pulled herself away from the bar and held her strip of paper up before approaching the table filled with wrapped gifts. She went for a medium-sized one adorned in reindeer.

“Oh wow!” She forced a smile, voice sweet like honey “A magic kit!”

The air in your room was stale and fought you as you pulled it into your lungs. You’d, at some point, kicked off your comforter and were splayed out on your sheets in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized shirt. Sweat hat soaked through both and the fabric clung to your skin.

On a blind instinct you grabbed at the gun under your nightstand, fastened by nothing more than duct tape. You could feel your heart in your throat and struggled to swallow it down again. You weren’t sure when this became second nature for you, something within the last two months of accompanying Natasha to the gun range for hours a time.

All the same, you held the tip of the weapon to the ground and rounded the corner of your bedroom into the dark hallway. You were unsettled from the dream you’d just had. The memory. Your subconscious had finally connected the woman who stood at Carol’s side. Her familiarity.

Monica Rambeau.

It was true, there was a stark coldness to her when you’d met at a Christmas party just the year before. It was only in passing and there were moments, like at the fair, when Darcy would mention her co-worker.

This changed things. Anxiety spiked haplessly, even as you diligently searched and cleared each room the way you had been taught. Keep your gun down, keep your eyes on the darkest corners of the room, ready to fire your weapon at any point. Especially if it was aimed at Natasha.

There was the slight movement of a shadow to your left and you quickly raised the gun, aiming it directly at the disturbance. Veronica stood on a chair in the kitchen, struggling to fill a glass with warm water, the only temperature that the faucet would allow.

You let out a quiet, mortified sigh before tucking the weapon into the waistband of your shorts. Your daughter blinked with wide eyes and that same guilty feeling flooded you at once, overtaking the anxiety.

“Baby,” You breathed, closing the distance between you and flicking on the overhead lights. You both flinched at their harshness but eventually blinked the shock away. “What are you doing up?”

You didn’t expect an answer, nor did you get one. Instead, you scooped her up under her arms and set her gently on the linoleum. There was water in the fridge, but she always had issues pouring it from the large jug. Ronnie was stubborn and shot you a frown at your intrusion.

“Don’t give me that look, kid.”

Her expression eased and you dumped the water down the drain before refilling the glass with something colder and more refreshing. Ronnie gulped it down eagerly, soaking the collar of her shirt with the liquid. She let out an appeased noise and wiped the rest of the water away from her mouth. She stood on her tip-toes and placed the glass in the sink.

“Couldn’t sleep, huh? Me either.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She blinked tiredly at you, your heart melting at the sight. It was easy to remember the words Natasha had trusted you with on the Ferris Wheel. Veronica would talk when she wanted to, but you had become quite good at reading her expressions and movements. Within the last month, you had stopped the long drives and the specialists. It eased you both.

“How about a sleepover?”

The exhaustion turned into joy and then combined within her look. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you scooped her up. She was getting too big for this, but you didn’t much care. You’d gotten stronger in the last few months and even if you hadn’t, you’d do the same.

With a show of dramatics you tossed her onto the bed and replaced the duvet that you’d flung off. Carefully, as Ronnie’s stare averted, you placed the gun in the drawer next to your bed. The last thing you did was prop the window open, letting out the flat air and letting in the sound of the city.

Ronnie was pulled flush against your chest in a matter of moments, though you had suddenly lost all exhaustion. You listened to the sirens, to the calls of people just ending their nights. If you listened hard enough, you could hear the horns of the boats that settled into the harbor.

“I love you so much.” You whispered into the small of her neck, “One day I’m going to get us out of here.”

Veronica didn’t respond, but the squeeze her little hand gave yours was all the reassurance that you needed.

Clint swallowed down steaming black coffee without blowing on it to cool it down. The nutty scent filled the cab of the car and warmed your nerves. He drank like your daughter did, but with the purpose of waking himself up before the sun. You never did get back to sleep and were wired enough to refuse the cup he offered you this morning.

He’d knocked on your door as the orange sun moved over the horizon. You were to accompany him to the docks to check on business. This somehow seemed less intimidating than the dinner you’d attended with Natasha.

“It’ll be easy. We have a chokehold on the harbor, we just have to check with a few of the vendors to collect their dock rent and call it a day. Everything else is done under the table. People aren’t too happy because at the end of the day, we’re the ones that take money from them. But it’s a necessary evil.”

You nodded and watched as the city went by. It was peaceful, quiet. There had been a single foster home that you stayed in that had a view of the entire skyline. You were too far away to see the bustling people and the everyday chaos that accompanied it.

There were, of course, moments of calm when you would work the early morning shift at the diner. But that would always shatter by the time you made the two minute walk from your apartment to the back door that was choked with the scent of garbage and cheap cigarettes.

“We have some invitations to hand out too. In the glovebox.”

You furrowed your brow and popped it open. His weapon (or his second, or third) sat upon a stack of manilla cards with elegant writing on them that had to be done by hand. You inspected them but didn’t’ dare separate the paper.

“What are these for?”

“Nat throws a party for her benefactors every single year. It’s real fancy, a suit and tie thing. Her renters are invited too and if they have the balls to show up, they always have a good time. She makes sure of it.”

“We’re expected to attend?”

He nodded, “It’s a requirement, really. As Natasha’s right hand. You go where she goes and once your probationary period is over, you’ll be on her like glue. Though, I don’t think that’ll be much of a problem.”

You frowned at his statement, his insinuation. Sure, you had gotten close to Natasha, had even grown to like her. She had a way of getting under your skin until it felt like she lived in it. Otherwise, you would have cut your losses long ago and let her slit your throat the first moment she met you.

There was a feeling of devotion that you felt the need to uphold. She had spared your life, after all. You’d spent the last two and a half months with her guiding you, teaching you how to obey her every word. Without fault, you would. Clint knew it, Kate and Yelena knew it. You knew it.

Instead of admitting it, you frowned and slumped further in your seat, struggling to ignore Clint’s own shit-eating expression. By the time he pulled to a stop, it had started to drizzle enough for him to flick his wipers on. The sound of them scraping against the window filled the silence.

You took careful attention to stay quiet and observe. Your gun was strapped carefully to your side and the invitations rested in your side pocket. You didn’t dare get them wet and let the ink run in a soupy mess. It had been years since you’d been out here and part of you was unsteady on the aged and slick wood.

“Sam is a cool guy. His family has hold on a good portion of the harbor. He likes to joke, so don’t pay him any mind.” Clint jabbed you with his elbow. “And loosen up a little bit, would you?”

You glowered at him and rubbed the stiff spot on your ribs but felt your shoulders lower a bit. There was a lot of weight behind this, that had been made clear to you the second you were inducted into this system.

Instead of heading directly down the long stretches of worn dock, Clint took a turn just before the asphalt ended. A small structure that looked less weathered than the rest of your surroundings rested at the lots end. The windows were thick enough to withstand the watery winds.

Clint stilled his large hand shooting out across your chest. It took you a few seconds to clock the shattered glass on the front door. Small smears of crimson pocked the shards that remained. Much like the evening before, you drew your gun on instinct, and Clint did the same.

He didn’t take care to hide your presence. Instead, he took the brunt of his large boot and cracked through the doorframe with the force of one kick. Wood splintered, raining down on linoleum and a desk that was easily from the 70’s.

You could smell the blood before you saw it, nearly sliding on the flooring. You caught yourself before that happened, heart pounding in your ears. “Fuck!”

“Jesus Christ,” Clint mirrored your sentiments.

Whoever had been here was long gone, but they’d left quite the mess. They’d torn through the filing cabinets, leaving legal papers and folders scattered against the desk and the expanse of cabin space.

You tracked the source of the pooling blood with little difficulty. A man- one that you had rightly never seen before- was laying on his back, facing the ceiling. From edge to edge of his throat was a long cut leaking an ugly red color. His stare was frosty, soaked into his sweatshirt.

It was like a car crash, something that you struggled to avert your eyes from until Clint physically grasped your chin and turned your attention to him. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, yes. Good.” You answered cooly, swallowing whatever dryness was in your throat. “Who would do something like this?”

“Carol… one of her lackeys. This is an eye for an eye thing.”

Even if it was an act of revenge, this was extensive. It sent a clear message even if you didn’t’ exactly know all the specifics of the feud. Of course, you’d seen Yelena at work and even that was mild compared to the brutality of this.

The thought of Monica, if it even had been her, completing a task as unfeeling as this filled your veins with ice. You felt your nails dig into your palms, soft and stinging. There was a surge of anger, and sadness that mixed into resolution. Natasha was right to despise the Danver’s family. Any family that treated the world with this much cruelty.

Natasha was in the gym on the second floor. Large windows overlooked the backyard, and a prolonged view of the harbor. There were blue mats adorning the floor, and a few wracks meant for weightlifting.

You had never seen this part of the house before. Usually the weather permitted sparring outside, but the late summer rain had made that impossible. Sheets of water obscured your usual view, though, it wasn’t exactly trained on the windows.

Natasha had her back facing you, her breathing timed evenly with each punch she threw at an 80-pound bag filled with sand. She wore tight-fitting shorts and a sports bra that left little to the imagination. Not that you had imagined her in that situation before.

Her muscles tightened and relaxed with each movement. They were scarred in a deep orchid pink, long ago healed. At one point, she was lashed. You recognized the damage done by a leather belt and shivered at the memory of it.

Natasha was fit, she was coated in a layer of sweat that dripped across her strength. You had to be clear minded for this and the state of her wasn’t making it easy on you. Her knuckles were wrapped, and she would grunt with each thrust of her fist. For just a moment, you wished you were under her mercy instead of the punching bag.

That broke when she panted against the bag, stopping its swinging with a firm grasp on either side. “Are you just going to stand there and watch?”

Natasha had focused her green eyes on you through the reflection of the window. Of course, you hadn’t intended to gawk as long as you had. But you were leaning against the doorframe of the gym, practically drooling. You had forgotten yourself and you wouldn’t’ put it past Natasha to notice.

She turned to you, a wolfish smile on her face. “Take your jacket off. Holster too.”

You struggled to ignore the haughty expression on her face when you did exactly what she said without question, almost too eagerly, depositing them on the edge of the mat. You pushed your shoes off too, knowing not to track mud on any of Natasha’s carpets.

Her eyebrow lifted at the action. She’d moved closer during your actions, and you’d nearly run into her before noticing. Her presence was intoxicating. All-consuming.

“You’re here to tell me something,” She proclaimed “you’ve got that adorable look on your face. It’s good to know someone in this house still fears me.”

She was joking and it tugged at your heart to send that mood down to the ground before lighting it on fire. You’d expected her to be in poorer spirits after Clint had called her and let her know what had happened at the harbor. Instead, she responded in her same calculated coolness that she regarded you with now.

There was nothing about her demeanor that eased you, and suddenly, it felt like you were being scolded for a decision you had made. Even more so when she grasped your chin and forced you to look at her.

“That woman with Carol from the other night. I know her. Briefly.”

“Briefly?”

“As in, I met her at a Christmas party a few years back and… left with her.”

Natasha’s grip tightened against your chin, her thumb digging into your jaw. There was too much alcohol flowing that night and after making stinted conversation about how to disconnect two metal rings smoothly, the two of you went back to her apartment.

Before the sun came up, you left. There was shame in it, and the walk back to your own apartment punctuated with Darcy’s scolding was enough to make you forget the encounter altogether. It was one night- a fun night, but singular all the same.

Natasha let out a small noise of disapproval that sunk straight to your core. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does she remember you?”

“It… didn’t seem like it.”

Her eyes narrowed, nose a short distance from your own. You could feel the hotness of her breath against your throat. How you had disappointed her. That much was clear from the lack of tenderness in her grasp. She eventually released you, trailing her fingers down the expanse of your neck.

She played with the small charm of your necklace, nothing more than a dainty gold chain with the tiniest whisper of a diamond in the center. Your skin prickled at the sensation, breath audibly catching as she worked her fingers over the length of chain.

“Well, I suppose this could be a problem. Especially with Carols violent behavior lately.”

Natasha sighed dramatically, and within an instant her nimble hand had tightened around your throat. She walked you the three steps backwards to the nearest wall. The small of your back landed with a heady thud and you used the last of your available breath to grunt out in protest.

Of course, you had seen her angry before, but it was never directed at you. Not like this. She wasn’t squeezing tight enough to injure you, not really. But the shock of the movement had made you think she would end you all the same.

“You should have come to me right away, pet.” Her grasp tightened; words growled. “And here I thought you were such a good, obedient, girl.”

Her words filled you with an immense shame for letting her down. Over the past few months, it had become impossible to be anything but perfect for Natasha Romanoff. The fact that you hadn’t connected the dots sooner was disillusioning.

The grip against your throat loosened ever so slightly as she leaned closer, her lips nearly ghosting your own. You could barely taste her, a strangled whimper escaping you. She pressed her body close. It was warm and overwhelming.

“I expect you to handle this on your own if it becomes a problem, darling.”

Before you could close the distance, Natasha pulled away from you entirely. It left you panting against the wall, wanting for something more. She knew exactly what she was doing. You craved her more than anything, and she had brought you so close to something you both wanted before denying it altogether.

Natasha sauntered, actually sauntered, across the gym and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench. She regarded you with flushed cheeks, her eyebrow raised as if nothing had just happened and you supposed that nothing did.

“Clint has told you about the party?” It took a few seconds before you found your voice, after her gentle urgings “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes ma’am. He did.”

She reached for a water bottle, exchanging it’s spot on the bench for the towel. She takes three hungry swallows, and you watched the way her throat moved in response to the water. Each of her movements seemed deliberate, nearly calculated to get a reaction out of you.

“Perfect. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours about what to wear. I’ll lay a dress out in your room.”

“My room?” Your words were squeaked.

There was a short hum in response as she gulped down another helping of water before setting it down entirely. That anger had ebbed away from her almost entirely. The fire that had been within her eyes excited you, and despite yourself, so did her demands.

“You’re so skittish. Come here. We need to work on your lead hook.”

Natasha didn’t offer to wrap your knuckles, nor did you ask. Instead, you leaned into the bag, letting the course material cut into your knuckles with a welcoming sting.

There was great thought put into any Romanoff party that was thrown. Lights were wrapped around the banister, and caterers walked through the teems of people with unwavering silver trays of finger food that cost more than your old salary for a number of months.

Back storm doors were opened to the pool, lit up and buzzing with an equal amount of people. Natasha had hired a piano player who haplessly pressed down on keys and drew a small crowd with each song that would crescendo into the dining room.

The overlapping theme was a dark forest green that reminded you much of the paint color slathered on Natasha’s bedroom walls. Something you hadn’t seen in months, but remembered so fondly. It was clear that she wanted to present a united force, something strong and unwavering in their power.

Clint was dawned with a finely pressed suit and a deep green tie that matched the shade of Kate’s dress to the very hue. She wore something silk and modest, reaching down to her heeled feet but leaving her muscular arms entirely bare.

Yelena stunned in a dress of her own, a crushed sage velvet that had a dipping neckline and sleeves that met at her wrist. By the confidence of her stride, you had no trouble believing she had chosen the outfit with the thought of how many weapons she could conceal. Her devilish smile only confirmed your thoughts.

As of you, Natasha had picked out something a little more revealing. Much like the maroon number she wore to dinner the other night, the dress she chose for you hugged every inch of your body. Its fern color complimented your complexion, bringing out the redness of your cheeks.

A slit moved from the base of your dress to the middle of your thigh. A halter neckline clung to your breasts, nearly pushing them up and out. It had been years, high school prom, since you’d worn something even close to this. You felt your shoulders flush red when you descended the stairs and struggled to blend in.

Natasha was sidled up by the mantel in deep conversation with someone who was a stranger to you. Most of the people here were. Though, their hands gave way to their high-ranking positions in the city. Few had callouses or oil stains.

She was in a three-piece suit that was color matched to your own outfit down to the shade. There were gold accents on her jewelry and the neckline of her waistcoat dipped down the tanned expanse of her skin.

Kate let out a low whistle in response to your entrance as she offered you a hand at the base of the stairs. You’d almost missed the last one due to your shameless gawking at the woman of the party. “Quite the looker, y/n. Natasha chose this?”

“Naturally,”

She chuckled softly, a small sound “Nothing if not calculating. Do you know how to socialize at one of these things?”

“Mm, as the caterer, yes.”

This seemed to amuse her more than you’d like. Katherine Elizabeth Bishop was a name that you had reluctantly googled early on in your employment. She had grown up wealthy and well acquainted with gatherings such as these. Of course, that was before her mother wound up incarcerated for white-collar crimes. The skills seemed to benefit her here, however.

Kate did everything with practiced fluidity that you envied. She plucked two champagne glasses from a nearby tray. “Only one of these, nurse it like your life depends on it. That way they won’t keep trying to shove alcohol into your hands. This is work, after all.”

You followed her lead and took a small sip of the bubbling, sour liquid. It was more expensive than anything you had ever had before and far-from-palatable. It wouldn’t be had to keep the drinking at bay.

“The man that Yelena is schmoozing over there is Billy Russo. Jigsaw. He’s in charge of the lower quarter. The Romanoff’s and the Russo’s have a cordial relationship and Yelena is much more feared than him.”

“Why do they call him jigsaw?” You whispered.

“He tends to chop people into pieces until they’re impossible to put back together. And that’s if you find all the missing parts. He has a very nice summer home up in the Poconos, so don’t get on his bad side.”

Suddenly the drink in your hand didn’t look too bad, but you held it right where it was. Clint was laughing by the window, obviously pushing his charm on a woman that you had never clocked before. She was running her fingers up his tie, tightening it before letting her hands drop.

“Barton is with Ophelia Sarkissian, the Viper. She is known for her cunning leadership. She’s got a huge organization in Hell’s Kitchen. Something called Hydra. I wouldn’t worry too much about it though because Natasha is keeping a tight eye on it.”

“Mm, cut one head off, two more grow back.”

“What?”

“Greek mythology. Hydra is a big water snake that has nine heads. Each time one was cut off two more would grow back in its place. It was practically unkillable until Hercules came through the marshes with his nephew. Hercules would slice each head off while Iolaus cauterized the wounds so the heads couldn’t grow back.”

Kate blinked at you with shock in her eyes. You simply gave her a shrug in return. People constantly underestimated you and your intelligence. Besides, when you were a child, you had a morbid fascination with Greek mythology as a whole.

She stared beyond your shoulder, lilting her head to the side.

“I didn’t realize that Natasha’s new plaything was so knowledgeable.”

Ice ran thorough your veins. Your eyes darted to the window where Clint and Mrs. Sarkissian had once been. It was vacant now, and an expertly painted hand drummed past your arm. They were sharp and sent chills down your spine as she rounded you, sidling up next to Kate.

“Trust fund kid, leave us.”

Kate drew in a sharp breath, straightening her shoulders. She nearly opened her mouth to stay something but thought better of it before shooting you a look of apology and vanishing into the crowd in the dining room.

Ophelia was intoxicating in her presence. She towered over you and wore snakeskin heels to widen the distance. She wore a tight-fitted black dress that had cuts on either side, exposing her toned stomach to the world. What she wanted with you wasn’t clear, but her hand toyed coyly with the neckline of your own dress, adjusting it.

“Word travels fast in this city. I just couldn’t wait to see it myself. Hearing that Natasha Romanoff of all people expelled her Winter soldier for a… Summer Sentient. All seasons are temporary, I suppose.”

“Expelled?”

The word had slipped from your tongue, and you quickly thought better of it when she settled her splayed hand against your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. It was cold, unfeeling. Unlike the fire that Natasha had instilled in you earlier.

There was a demonic smile that spread across her face, both of her eyebrows lifting as she let out an exaggerated grasp. It was clear that this woman, this leader, couldn’t keep her hands to herself in any manner, including the internal affairs that she dangled in front of you like a prize.

“Oh, did Natty not tell you? She had Bucky under her thumb for years, nearly a decade. A few months back, he was just gone. There’s a lot of gossip in these streets and not much of it is plausible, but I’d put money on this one.”

Again, her fingers danced over your collarbone. “Miss Romanoff is not known for her mercy, but after beating the Winter Soldier within an inch of his life, she let him go. He ran like any sensible man would, of course. But he left a trail of blood behind him. I’m quite sure he’s somewhere out west struggling to move in an upper body brace.”

She laughed cruelly at the look on your face. There was no use in masking it. You knew that Bucky had been absent, but through your own turmoil you had forgotten all about it. Your stomach twisted in unease. What if Natasha grew tired of you? It was inevitable, really. You’ only prolonged your fate by bending to her whim.

“Ophelia,” Natasha’s voice drew your attention first, and then the heat of her touch on the small of your back. “Have you tried the lamb?”

The woman faltered, gritting her teeth “I was about to.”

“Oh, you must.” Yelena seemed to materialize out of nowhere, looping her arm around Madame Hydra herself. She pulled with intent. “I haven’t seen you since Moscow. We need to catch up!”

“I was never in Moscow.”

“That’s a shame. I can paint you a brilliant picture.”

Their voices faded away into the rest of the party. It was then that you noticed Clint by the door, his stance stiffened. Kate glowered next to him, not following her own rule and downing the rest of her drink before plucking another off the passing tray.

You stepped out of Natasha’s grasp, not wanting to be anywhere near her at the moment. Her perfume was intoxicating. Its floral scent made you dizzy and took away your ability to think straight. It was part of the reason you had been lulled this far into complicity. It scared you that you were willing to do anything for her.

“y/n,” she urged.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Natasha’s stare hardened. She gripped the back of your neck in a movement that would otherwise be familiar, sweet, even. However, the way she led you down the hallway made your stomach drop in a feeling of doom. “Not here, Malen'kiy krolik.”

Natasha’s office was strictly off limits, but you found yourself in the warmth of it in a matter of moments. There was no wall that wasn’t adorned with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and a large cherrywood desk was at its head. It was kept neat like the rest of the house.

There was a PHD on the wall, and an associates under that. Each bore Natasha’s name. She closed the doors behind her. Without regarding you, she went to a shelf in the back of the room, pouring herself a glass of bourbon, much like the one she was drinking when you stirred in her bed.

She swallowed it back, before pouring another. This time she sipped it. Your own back was against the far wall, heart pounding mercilessly through you. Yelling at Natasha had a lot more weight behind it than you anticipated.

“You’re going to do the same to me.” You eventually whispered.

Her body stiffened, muscles tightening and then releasing before she turned to you, her eyes reddened. “What?”

“I’ve been entirely blind to my purpose here. I’ve never… I’ve never understood why you chose me. Why not go for someone who knows what they were doing? Who knew how to protect you and care for you? You had that with Bucky.”

Her eyes hardened. “Don’t you ever mention that name in this house.”

“It’s the truth, Natasha! You could have let me die, just like that, and you didn’t. Instead, you took me in and trained me, and for what? Just to throw me into the harbor with cement blocks chained to my ankles.”

“That is an entirely outdated practice and frankly, it’s insulting.” Her words were soul deep, but they barely broke your skin. “I would never do that.”

“A bullet through the head, then?”

“No.”

You were gaining traction enough to pull yourself from the wall and take heady steps towards her. If you didn’t do it now, you would never. Part of you was certain that you’d never see the outside of this room again. That she’d snap and do exactly what you were imploring her to.

“He served you for years and within a singular night you nearly kill him.” Your breath shook, you were so close to her now. “What is stopping you from doing the exact same to me?”

“No, no” She reached up and grasped both sides of your face. There were tears against your cheeks, something you hadn’t realized dripped from your chin. “Malyshka, no don’t cry.”

Everything had come to a head; the months of non-stop training, the pressure of keeping this side of your life away from your daughter, away from Darcy. A true friend that you had been lying to. And now, knowing that it could be all for nothing. It was easy to dispose of someone like you.

There was no reason to show weakness in front of the woman who was training you not to feel anything at all. Above everything, you found yourself ashamed. She still held your face within her grasp.

“He hurt you.” Her jaw clenched and unclenched, there was a fuzzy vulnerability in her green stare. “I can show mercy, y/n. But I’ve learned, not when it comes to you. Even before all of… this, there was something that I saw within you. Something that made what I did to Bucky all the more worth it.”

You breathed in a watery sniffing sound that was replaced by nothing but a whimper. Natasha softened even more, letting her shoulders fall. She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He was pulling back for months, and you were the final straw. I had never seen someone so resilient, someone who didn’t beg for their life but recounted it. In a moment of weakness, I let you go. I thought that training you, that making you mine, would absolve my sins but it’s only deepened them. My feelings for you have only deepened.”

Her forehead was pressed against yours, her ministrations, and God help you, her apologies were startling. Her lips were so close to yours; you could nearly taste the liquor on her breath “Natasha,”

Suddenly, she was all you could feel. Her hand was against you back, pulling you into her body to fit directly on hers. There was such a strong guiding power to her. Your shock was muffled by her mouth on yours, your whine swallowed in moments.

You melted into her, kissing back with enough fever to leave you both breathless. There were stars dancing in your vision, you lungs burning eventually pulling you both apart. She panted twice before pecking your lips once more, you nearly chased after her.

“Fuck,” she growled “you… are absolutely delicious.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated up and you hid your face in the small of her neck, letting out a small groan in embarrassment. You felt Natasha’s laugh rumble through her.

“No need to be timid, pet. There will be plenty of time for that later.” She raked her nails up your back, “Right now, I have a snake to behead.”

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