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unholyhelbig · 1 year ago

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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.]

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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.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife]

#Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha romanov #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Marvel #Marvel Au #Mafia au #Kate Bishop #Yelena Belova #Clint Barton #bucky barnes

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 1 year ago

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Heyyy love you’re work! I strive to be a good writer like yourself one day! I was thinking how would the mercs react to a goth person like myself:) it’s okay if you don’t wanna do this! Have a love day!

I think to sum it up, all of them are completely clueless and stupid but could care less.

The TF2 Mercs reacting to a reader who is goth

WARNING: stupid idiots

Scout:

- Huh… A little interested occasionally, looking up and down you while he thinks you’re not looking. Not really much of a reaction other than the typical awkward glances people give goths to admire them for a spilt second.

- Has no fucking clue what kind of style that is. It isn’t his preference for sure but it looks good on you and that’s all that matters. Bullies you for something completely unrelated to the fact you’re goth probably.

- “Hey! Nice fuckin’ shirt chucklehead! Where’d you get that one? Grandma’s couch?” He says when he sees you in a somewhat ‘conforming’ outfit for once. He’s gotten so used to you wearing your usual, that he doesn’t hesitate to pick on you for not being edgy enough. It’s a pride issue for him. Normally Scout would wear stuff shamelessly and the fact you aren’t yourself right now is giving him vibes that you might have grown insecure in some way. He genuinely thinks this’ll help you. Backwards elementary school logic.

- He can’t show appreciation without being a massive fucking dickhead. It’s a certified scout L moment. At least his heart is in the right place I guess?

————————————————————————-

Solider:

- Ingeniously freaks the fuck out because he thinks you’re one of Merasmus’ weird ghost apparitions. Nearly grabs you and beats the shit out of you in fear because he owes that wizard around $200 after a grenade-down-the-toilet incident and he doesn’t want to pay. Engineer and Pyro have to pull him off you. I am literally so sorry.

- “MOTHER OF JUDAH, PRIVATE! YOU LOOK LIKE A MORTUARY ASSISTANT BATHED IN BLEACH!” He announces. You have no idea if that was a compliment or not. It’s hard to tell. Soldier then quickly assumes you’re a weird offshoot of the hippie culture and you’re here to sell him weed. Aaahh there it is. Blissful stupid ignorance.

- After promptly explaining what you are, he nods slowly. Slapping you on the back heartily. “ALRIGHT PRIVATE! You’re clear. Didn’t know there was such thing as a goth.. Hippies sure are getting creative.” Idiot. Complete moron. Still thinks you’re a weird looking hippie. Just one who won’t sell him weed nor harbor the evil tendencies of one. What are these evil tendencies he speaks of? He can’t answer you.

——————————————————————-

Demoman:

- Ignores you completely. You’re just another person to him with their own preferences in attire. This guy still gets stares in the supermarket for being a massive black dude. He knows what it’s like to stand out, explosively. Get it?

- Well.. At first he ignores you. But if you insist on wearing your style on the battlefield he’ll be a little impressed to say the least. Demoman likes confidence. He whistles to get your attention from the backlines and raises a drink to you. “Keep at it! Show ‘em with your damned fangs! Maul those wee willy fucks straight to the—“ He gets hit by a train mid taunt. You stare blankly at the sight. Deadass no clue how to respond. You’re in awe at his lack of self preservation for one thing.

- Demoman is in the kitchen that night drinking god knows what brand of alcohol this time. He sees you and goes “AAAYY! There’s that crazy son of a betch wit’ the victorian thing goin on. Cheers to you.” He compliments. It’s not a heckle. It’s genuine admiration for your shamelessness. Being weird in that way is the easiest way to get on his good side.

——————————————————————-

Engineer:

- No response. Much like Demoman’s lack of response. Looks at you for maybe two seconds then looks away to avert any suspicions he’s trying to be rude. Calls you stupid nicknames like ‘ghost getter’ and “Weirdest display of caltholicsm he’s ever seen.’ …. Wait a second that last one wasn’t a nickname.

- You’ll rarely get any comments about the matter to him. He’s too busy with other stuff to make fun of something so particular. Especially something that doesn’t concern him. (Not to say he doesn’t love insulting people’s looks from time to time. But you’re a teammate! You’re on his side!) If you have a counterpart on the enemy team then by god he won’t hold back on the roasts. Everybody gets fuckin’ spat upon regardless of who they are. He makes fun of everybody equally.

- Asks you if his creations are nifty. For some reason he mistakes you with Steampunk full on old dad style because he’s “heard about ‘em darn tootin kids and their crazy fashion in the newspapers.” And thinks he’s somehow relating to you. That you have a common interest. You have to suppress your laugh here. Same energy as pokey-man. Cornflake’s confused but he has the spirit. The whole culture explained to him is when he starts fucking assuming you’re catholic by the way.

———————————————————-

Heavy:

- Concerned at first. “Who in your family is died..?” He asks after awkward silence on the bench. He has his eyebrow raised in intrigue. “Was it murder? Heavy will crush them for you.” He offers. He had good experiences with you beforehand so he has no reason not to offer such things. Heavy mistakes your attire for mourning attire.

- You sheepishly explain to this old dude why you were sporting full on black. Expecting a weird or strong response back. To your surprise he just shrugs and looks away again with a gruff “Hm.”

- He then looks at you again after a few more minutes and sluggishly asks you a barrage of typical old man questions when they don’t understand something dark and gritty. “So do you live in a big haunted mansion?” “Do you have some pet bats? Do you like scary music?” “What do you do as a hobby when you’re this?” And other things in broken english. Each answer seems to get through to him and make him either nod or shrug. He’s very cooperative and trying to understand. Seems to not like the idea of himself sporting such things and feels the need to mention that to you for some reason. Give this guy a makeover and he’ll begrudgingly cooperate.

——————————————————————

Pyro:

- Pyro gasps childishly when he sees you. Each little spot of black or dark hue on you is showing up the direct opposite in their point of view. You have rainbow hair, rainbow everything. They think you’re a candy princess/prince/monarch that’s come on a white stallion. They’re giddy with excitement and jump up and down. Clapping their hands.

- You’re throughly confused. But you figured it was because Pyro had never seen someone wear something like this before. “It’s goth, Pyro. You like it?” You ask. Pyro glomps you. Straight up fucking hug tackles you and spins you around like an unfortunate house cat who’s just been spotted in the street by a stranger.

- You’ve become the rainbow unicorn candy ruler of all imagination and happiness and you don’t know how or why but you accept your fate. Pyro has made you a throne out of candy wrappers and you feel guilty often if you don’t use it. You got to admit a lot of unnecessary work went into that thing. Same with the crown he provided you. (It’s an actual crown made of diamonds and you don’t wanna know where they got it.)

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- You swear you just saw a shocked blush crawl across his face. But he looked away before you could take a good look behind those sunglasses of his. Sniper’s unironically attracted to the aesthetic on other people and he secretly thinks it’s a fine piece of art but isn’t willing to admit it. He always had a thing for edginess and overall darkness. Sniper listens pretty frequently to early rock on his camper’s radio and doesn’t shy away from the occasional greaser jacket.

- “Nice look, mate..” He says on one of his good days. He plays off as indifferent and nonchalant but you can tell he’s hiding his slight interest in being your friend. Every little attempt to ignore you reeks of ‘come get me.’ Sniper’s social ineptitude is just sad at this point. Eventually you just shake your head and smile lovingly and accept his stupid efforts. Your suspicions are eventually proven correct when he accepts a drink with you.

- Hyperfixates on you like you’re some sort of fucking anime character. Can’t get the way you express yourself out of his head. You’re the most colorful thing in this godforsaken desert and that says a lot because you wear black.

—————————————————————————

Medic:

- No. No. no. Anything but him. ANYTHING BUT HIM. DEAR GOD PLEASE!!

- Prepare to get bombarded by a tsunami of questions that extend into two hours. Medic cannot control his curiosity and at one point asks you multiple times if you’re a demon or something because of how excited he is. The others rarely see him act like a puppy this much. His evil autism is activated. Turn tail and run. He’s sort of bouncing on his heels. It kinda reminds you of Pyro.

- “Oohohohoho! What an extraordinary specimen! Your oddities will surely aid in my understanding of how psychology works! Here! Sign this paper that says you acknowledge any drugs I pump into you aren’t supported by the FDA!” He hands you a clipboard and bounces again wildly. His happiness is rather contagious and you blindly sign it because you’re too focused on his child like energy and how adorable it is. He’s like a teenage girl who’s seen her fucking idol for the first time. “You see our aesthetics and personal preferences for color appear quite differently from person to person and depending on how you grew up—!” He goes on a psychology rant.

—————————————————————————-

Spy:

- He’s judging you. It’s as clear as day. He’s walking around you and examining your attire with his hands behind his back. As if you were some prized show breed who was being accessed for the finals. He lifts an arm up, tsks when he sees the seams in your clothing and disappointedly glares at you. Then just straight up walks away. By far one of the weirdest responses you’ve ever gotten. But then again should you be surprised? Spy is a drama queen and all you needed to do was take one good look at him to know that.

- Next thing you know, you have an entire box full to the brim of more gothic clothes off to the side of your bed when you wake up the next day. There wasn’t any letter nor indication of who it was. Which rather indirectly told you who it was. All the clothing was super, super expensive and straight up unreachable in some way. You find it especially alarming how it’s basically an entire box of things you personally expressed wanting to the other guys but couldn’t obtain due to the price. You swore Spy wasn’t there during that time.

- Ugh.. Of course. It’s all clear to you now. He hated the state of your current clothing and to save his poor snobbish eyes he bought you an entire wardrobe of it, he even bothered making outfits folded nearly together and they made sense. Which made you hate him more.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #mod spy #medic x reader #spy x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #sniper x reader #tf2 fanfiction

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trashmouth-richie · 2 months ago

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more jonathan? you got it @eiightysixbaby this is for you 🩵 if y’all don’t know, leah is a certified jonathan girly and ive written her into a fic once before here THIS is a continuation of that fic but can be read alone!

You sat in his childhood bedroom. The bedroom you had shared with him after Joyce and Will moved on. He wanted to stay, we can build a life together here, love. So stay you did.

Bills got tight but Jonathan told you not to worry. When a friend of his came up on some rough times, you invited her to move in with the two of you— and he was happy that you were caring enough to lend a hand.

Things were good, things were great. For the first time since falling for Jonathan— you felt like you were living the kind of life others dreamed about. He was sweet and tender. Thoughtful— never once forgetting small anniversaries only you claimed were important. Life with him was routine, cozy, calm.

Your roommate moved out, moving in with her boyfriend and Jonathan’s coworker, Eddie. The house was quiet, just the two of you, nights spent reading a book and snuggled up on the couch, or talking about anything and everything your mind could come up with.

In the mornings Jonathan woke you with eggs and bacon, Sunday’s were pancakes and seasonal fruit. You sat in awe as he flipped the cakes with ease, a quick flick of his wrist and they were perfect, everytime.

The change in him was subtle. Not quite dramatic enough for anyone else to notice, but you did. He was irritable, coming home from work and immediately needing a beer. One became two and two became a twelve pack.

He was closed off and reserved. When Eddie called to arrange double dates, Jonathan told him he was busy. When Joyce sent postcards from whatever state they were staying in for their traveling, he tossed them in the trash. The shadow of his past clung to him like graffiti on a theater sign.

You begged him to talk to you, but he couldn’t get out what he wanted to say. How embarrassing that he was now a grown man and was still feeling the abandonment from his childhood. Once in adolescence from his father and again in his late teens from his mother.

So he pushed you away. But you stayed. For Jonathan— it wasn’t enough.

I can’t do this anymore, this town is suffocating me. Don’t ask me to stay because I won’t.

And he didn’t… he was never a liar.

Two years and you hadn’t heard a word from him. Joyce told you to stay in the house, and not to worry about the bills. But how could you stay in a house where the memories of him haunted the halls?

You tried to move on, Eddie tried to set you up a few times but the conversation either fell flat or the dude was too high to comprehend where he was. Crying to Eddie and his now wife, tears fell in waves as you explained that you couldn’t get over him. That you didn’t want to wait around like a house plant for him to come back and love you again. You were hopeless.

Another year passed and you decided that it was time to go. You were offered a job in Atlanta and couldn’t wait for for new opportunities. Jonathan’s room was the last room to be packed and you sat on that spring loaded bed with a single tear on your cheek for the boy you loved and the man who couldn’t love you back.

A truck engine shut off and you knew it was Eddie and Steve to help you move the last of your things.

“Hey, just back it up to the door, there’s not much left—”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

His voice stopped you in your tracks, and when you turned on your heel to see for yourself the ghost of Jonathan Byers, you were met with him in the flesh. Your breath caught and your heart pumped backwards.

Betrayal, rage, abandonment seated through your veins.

“Thought you were dead.”

“Should have been, few times actually, uh.. Mom told me you were leaving—”

“So you thought you’d what? Come back to twist the knife? Butter me up just so you could break me allover again? No, thanks Byers’ once is enough.”

You slam his own front door in his face and stomp to get the one box that remained. He’s quick on your heels but doesn’t say a word, only watching with a somber expression as you wipe tears and struggle with the packing tape and flaps on the box.

“Can I take you to get something to eat before you leave?”

This guy. Jesus Chr—! “No you can’t. I’m not hungry and I’d rather starve than sit in your presence— actually— no, scratch that, I don’t think I could sit next to you with a knife and not try to slit your throat.”

He kicks the threaded rug and sniffs, “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Really?” you shout nearly in his face, “showing up here unannounced is a fight in itself. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m waiting for my ride.”

“He’s not comin’ baby.”

He’s joking, he has to be. “What did you say?”

“Eddie. Ran into him on my way here… told him to go home.”

You drop the box at his feet and shove his shoulders. He had no right to do the shit he was doing and you were gonna tell him just that!

“What the hell is your problem?” you scream, spinning to leave he holds your arm to stop you.

“Will you just stop and listen to me?”

“I swear to God if you don’t let go and get out of my way I will call the cops.”

His expression doesn’t change, he doesn’t falter for a single second. “Call ‘em, want me to dial?”

Wrenching your arm away from him you nearly tumble over the box, but gain enough momentum to slap his face.

“I hate you! I can’t stand being around you! You’ve ruined everything in my life and seeing you is making me sick to my stomach! I’d rather… ugh! I’d rather do anything than feel the way I did for the last three years! You’re a shitty person, Jonathan! I hate everything about you! But mostly I hate myself for never getting over you!”

You are depleted, all the years of building up of feeling less than perfect is finally breaking you and you wanna claw his face off just to stop feeling this way.

Jonathan has tears in his eyes, he never likes to make you upset, and he knew this reunion would be anything but nice, but still he has to try.

“Honey please, I couldn’t come back until I was better, I wasn’t okay. I was sucking the life out of you, you were changing who you were for me— that’s why I left. I couldn’t drag you down anymore than I already had, I had to let you go so I wouldn’t ruin you.”

You were crying now, ugly and shamelessly as you fell apart. Jonathan reaches for you and you let him, his arms are so familiar, so goddamn familiar it has you melting into him. Tears collect on his lashes and he’s muttering to your ear how sorry he is. How much he loves you, how he wants you and only you.

Your mouth finds his and it’s a heated tangle of tongues and nipping teeth. The denim jacket he still wore was shoved from his arms and now supporting your back as he laid between your legs on the kitchen floor, making you whimper with his tongue.

Tears are still on your cheeks when you cum on his lips, his fingers crooked right into the spot only he knew where to find. He’s a panting mess when you fist his cock and mouth at his balls. Nearly spilling over your hand in a juvenile type of way but he quickly pulls you to him and shoves his cock deep inside of you.

He’s trying to make it last, stretching you wide with slow canting of his hips, but when you drive your heels into his ass and whimper about how you need more of him, he doesn’t try to hold out any longer.

You spend all day that way, naked and moving from one room to another, lazily feeling eachother and making one another come over the edge time and time again. Morning comes and you find yourself tucked into that spring loaded bed, the sizzle of bacon and the promise of forever wafting in the stale air.

#jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #eddie munson #jonathan byers smut #ziggys fic requests

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agbpaints · 4 months ago

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Ayo where my fedsun girlies at

It was my birthday last week and I still had my Essentials coupon so I decided to treat myself. Historically I have not been hot on many Davion mechs (with a few exceptions we'll get to later) but there's some pretty cool stuff in here. All of the models are straight out of the box with no mold lines removed so what you see is what you get

Starting off the pack we have our first Inner Sphere omnimech in plastic and a generally pretty OK fire mech- the Templar. 85 tons with maximum speed and armor for its weight, an XLFE and standard armor give it a truly comical 40 tons of pod space that the TLR1-O spends on being a really jumped up version of the Battlemaster with a Gauss rifle backed up by an Streak SRM-4 and a whole pile of close range lasers slaved to a targetting computer. It's a fine medium range brawler with a head chopper and accuracy. The sculpt does a good job or translating the old art and I love the cruciform shoulder plates

Next we have the Thanatos. A 75 ton heavy cavalry mech with 85kph top speed and 150 meter jump capacity that matches the Thor or Wolverine. This thing has one very specific job it wants to be doing, which is being the Slack Brawler in a C3 net. Most often C3 networks have fast, light scouting elements to go find 'good trouble' and provide direct fire targetting data to their friends in the network and slower fire support elements that hang back and make use of the shift in ranging brackets while staying out of the fight. The Thanatos acts in a similar role to the Kurita-produced Grasshoppers and straddles those two positions, trailing the scouts and engaging with medium-range guns before taking over as the front element of the network when the scputs are destroyed. To that end the Thanatos is pretty OK at its job, carrying a pile of ER lasers and an MRM-20 to start the beatdown early and a Guardian ECM system to counterjam enemy E-War units. I'm a big fan of the Clan-esque arms, hinting at its history as an early failed omni project, but the posing is a little static for a cav mech like this.

Next up we have a semi-longtime favorite of mine and certified weird-ass mech, the Falconer. This is what happens when the Steiner-Davion industrial complex is given the GDP of an entire planet and told to beat the Summoner at its own game. Another 5/8/5 75 tonner like the Thanatos, the Falconer forgoes armor for a truly pretty fearsome long range punch and goes all in on being a skirmisher. A gauss rifle and ERPPC that can and will be wherever you wish is real nasty and the one alternate config transitions into something arguably slightly spookier with an LBX-10 AC and heavy PPC for a cheaper BV, maintaining the head chopper but adding on the modality of the AC in trade. I love the way they modernized the old, awful design with the weird triple-jointed legs and the comically long body- it looks like someone tried to put a marauder together coming down off of a big psychedelic trip. Again, posing is too static for what this wants to do, which is backflips into the enemy's rear arc

Finally, some motion! The Thunderbolt 9NAIS is the only reprint mech in this set and has the decency of being pretty damn different from the two previous sculpts the mech recieved in both looks and capabilities. Yet another heavy with an 85kph top speed (albeit without jump jets, gee the fedsuns sure like their heavy cav), the 9NAIS is a well put together striker. The armor is lower than the succession wars variants and an XL fusion engine combined with a mammoth 4 ton ammo bay mean you really do not want to play this like a normal Thud, but it also caries 3 ER medium lasers and a RAC/5 slaved to a targetting computer, as well as a Streak SRM-6 got explointing the holes the rest of this crap punches in people. Combine with the guardian unit and you want to treat this as a mobile support unit, slinking around a bit back from the front to take potshots with its direct fire guns while screening out artemis/enemy C3. The sculpt is largely similar to the existing minis with the alters weapons and a new running pose. I actually really like the project phoenix canopy they included with this.

Overall I think this is a decent box if you want a bunch of the Inner Sphere's 'Clan-esque, but not Clan' mechs from the Civil War/Jihad period. They're pushing the tech base's weapons and speed to its limits at the cost of durability and BV/C-bills. , which is something I personally had only really be doing by just splashing clantech in my IS lists. I got this for the Falconer but honestly having reevaluated I might need to give the Thanatos a harder look, it seems neat.

#battletech #miniatures #battlemech #mechwarrior #mech talk #new box #templar #thanatos #thunderbolt #falconer

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papaya-inspiration · 6 months ago

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Foreach 2024 Reader Survey Results

So, my buddy @lumsel makes a lil webcomic called Foreach. I help 'em out with it sometimes. The comic's website doesn't have a comment section, so I thought it'd be fun to do a little year-end survey to see who was reading and what they think!

We had an incredible response, with 279 respondents to the survey--more than are in the Foreach discord server! So let's get into it.

Character Popularity Poll

Alright, let's start with the thing I know y'all are most excited about. As the comic creators, we love all our characters equally... but clearly you guys don't!

☀️ SUNNY SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! ☀️

Y'all REALLY like Sunny, eh? Don't worry, us too. In fact, 80.3% of you listed her in your top 3 favorite characters. Hell yeah.

The next top four characters are the four game protagonists, with Jiro ranking top, then Nix, Cliff and Coral. A lot of readers also mentioned Jiro as particularly relatable/lovable in the write in box at the end of the form. (Don't worry, I won't tell him y'all like him this much. Though with this many Love Warriors, Proteus won't stand a chance invading the island.) I was a bit surprised to see Jasper/Coral ranked as the lowest of the four protagonists! Given that the comic initially presents her as the "anchor" character and a jumping off point for the story as a whole--but that also means she's among the least unusual of the four protagonists, and thus stands out less? It's a hypothesis.

After that, we have Polyta (which makes a lot of sense, she's had some of the most page time of the side characters), then Mercy and Doctor Kree'zik. I wonder if some of this is recency bias, partiularly in Kree'zik's case, seeing as we haven't gotten much past xer character introduction yet. I'll be curious to see how these numbers shift if we run this again next year!

We also got some minor character write ins! Several people said they enjoyed various Aveans, with two votes specifically for the Avean Captains and someone else voting for the avean grunt from page 106 who says "Thanks a bundle!" And I agree: they're pretty adorable. Another person listed "the author" as their favorite character which... you know what, it is a fairly meta comic, so I'll allow it. (Even though, hilariously, Lum is the only member of the creative team to have not had a character cameo in the comic yet.)

Also shout out to the person who wrote in that they almost listed the character cameos for Peri and Kiki (the rat and the rabbit from pgs 24-25) as their favorites. I see you and appreciate you <3

Game Popularity Poll

Not a ton to say about this. People seem to like cozy-ish indie games and furry aesthetics. Makes sense to me.

Comic Info

How are people finding Foreach?

As always, word of mouth is CRUCIAL for indie webcomics getting off the ground. You guys sharing and linking it to friends and communities is really the engine behind getting eyes onto our art--so thank you!

We got another big boost from joining the @spiderforestcomics webcomic collective. So far, it's been a great experience and we've been loving the community over there. So if you're in the market for more comics, definitely go check out some of theirs!

I should note that there is definitely some overlap between these categories. We let people mark multiple answers, so many people marked "Word of Mouth (online)" in addition to other categories like Tumblr and other discord servers. In that broader category, there where several places that people specifically noted finding the comic including:

Our reader Digamma has been tirelessly reposting the comic to the Something Awful forums, and it looks like quite a few people have been keeping up from there! Thanks, Digamma, you're a certified super-spreader!

Dan of @thewebcomicsreview has linked to Foreach several times!

People also mentioned finding it through various discord communities, including the Star Impact server, a server for puzzle games, Foxglove Comics, and others

Rilly had a cameo in @erinptah's webcomic, Leif and Thorne!

Several people discovered it directly through the Neocities discover page!

Cohost, Cloudhiker, and a fairly lukewarm substack review... which nonetheless garnered us a few readers. I'll take it!

Currently, Foreach doesn't pay for traditional banner ads of any kind. So everytime you tell a friend about the comic or share a link to it, you're helping us out a ton! Thank you!

How are people keeping up with comic updates?

Not too much to say on this. Lots of manual checkers, and it looks like we're getting good mileage out of that RSS feed. Excellent!

Readership Info

Discord Membership

We had more survey responses than people currently in the Foreach discord. But even more excitingly, only about one third of survey respondents are also in the discord. Which is exciting, because it means there's more of a readership out there checking the comic updates than we knew previously!

Additionally, I'm personally excited by this result because hearing from those quieter members of our reader base is precisely why I wanted to put out this survey. We have a lovely, active community in the discord, but as a side effect that means we're hearing a lot of opinions from just one, disproportionately vocal part of our reader base. My hope with this survey was that we'd get a chance to hear some voices that we don't usually get to interact with... So for all you silent majority readers out there: Hello! Thanks so much for chiming in!

Patreon Membership

Most of our readers don't back the patreon. Which is to be expected! We actually got a few new patrons signing up after the survey was posted, which is absolutely lovely of y'all. (Hi new patrons! 👋)

If you're wondering what the Patreon money gets used for, it's a mixture of funding extras the comic and supporting Lum's future creative endeavors. This year, we used a big chunk of the funding to commission the Love Bomb portraits for the new Cast Page, which were done by the talented Beajrb (go check out their work!) In the future, some of it may be used for commission work related to the comic, and also for the long term goal for Lum to take some time off their day job to draw comics/make games/etc.

We also asked what else people might like to see us do with the patreon. Right now, we post author commentary on pages with about a 2-chapter lag time, and people seem pretty happy with that over all. There were a few requests for bonus character art, pin ups, or character-asks, and we'll keep that in mind going forward. Since all of us are working full time, there's only limited time we have for making additional content, but who knows what the future holds!

Reader Geography

So where in the world are our readers? Well, I I thought it'd be fun to make this cute little map:

...which turned out to be a huge pain in the ass and a little misleading with the color ranges. So here it is another way:

Our reader base is very American-heavy. Honestly a little moreso than I was expecting? Maybe it's the magnetic charisma of Cliff Mason that keeps drawing them in?

But is it a good comic?

According to our readers, it's a 5.35/5 star comic. Make of that what you will :3

Final Thoughts

At the end of the form, we had an open response box for anything else y'all might want to say to us. And let me just say: y'all blew us away. Thank you so much.

So many of the comments were incredibly kind. People told us about characters they connected to, about how excited they were for to see what happens next. Some of them were sweet, some were horny, some of you compared Foreach to some of OUR favorite webcomics, (which was absolutely unreal to read!) Some of you guys wrote whole freakin' essays! I can't recap everything, but please know that we read every single one of them.

Thank you again for joining us on this journey. Here's to a great 2025--and another year of Freachin' it together!

#foreach #webcomics #2024 recap

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