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simp999 · 1 year

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Hi! I saw your requests were open and thought I'd pop in to ask How Would The Mercs Reach To Their S/O Picking Up Phrases Or Slang That They Use! Bonus points if S/O also says phrases in the Mercs' native tongue ^^

THIS IS THE STUFF, PEOPLE!!!! I love this prompts so much oh my gosh, thank you so much for requesting!!! I may have gotten a tad carried away with Sniper's part, whoops..

Merc's Reactions to Their S/O Picking up Words/Phrases/Slang That They Use - drabbles

Total wc: 2.4k

Mercs included: All

Masterlist

Scout:

After being around him for such a long time, it’s not too surprising that sometimes you’d accidentally slip into a bostonian accent for some words. But the first time Scout caught you saying one of his lines was in the middle of battle. - Your two classes didn’t really mesh too well, so you wouldn’t be near each thother too often. Which means that he has no idea how long you’ve been doing this for.

You hadn’t noticed Scout run behind you after noticing you turning a corner. You jumped down from the ledge, spotting an opponent right below you. With a big swing of your weapon and a crit hit that landed perfectly on the back of their head, you shouted:

“Hah! Take that, chucklenuts!”

Scout couldn’t help but laugh at that, feeling pride wash through him. That means you think he’s funny! It’s not a direct complement, but it sure feels like it for him. It probably didn’t help that you yelled “BONK!” as your hit landed, too. It didn’t really matter to him if you guys ended up winning that battle or not, because that was a big enough win for him. (Though, you did end up winning with how much quicker he was on his feet.)

It really just made him fall even more in love with you.

Soldier:

Hearing him go on about war and America so often eventually meant you using references some times, or throwing in a few words relating to those things at times. It’s happened before where your team was right close to losing, so the opposing team felt more lax and confident. You were the start of the comeback, killing their Medic, and shouting:

“It ain’t over 'till it’s over, Maggot!”

Soldier didn’t even catch the fact that you used one of his most common nicknames. It just kinda flew over his head.

Of course, it wasn’t just words and phrases that you’d stolen from him - It’d be wrong to say that you didn’t get a bit more chaotic, too.

The one that struck him right in the face, though, was when you sacrificed yourself for him, while killing multiple enemies. You had shouted “Death before dishonor!” as you did.

It had landed you the victory.

After the battle, he had quickly picked you up and threw you on his shoulders, holding your legs in place as he marched on. He gave you a whole speech about how “YOU DESERVE A MEDAL OF HONOR, CUPCAKE!!”

Pyro:

-Uhhhh

-jk, as if I’d leave my favorite firebug out ;)

Obviously, mimicking any common phrases of theirs wasn’t really possible…but! I can promise you that they only fell harder for you when you started adapting their little tweaks to sign language that they tended to use. One thing that was very common of Pyro to do was to use the short form of “I love you”. They loved the fact that it was so much quicker to do, and easy, and it’s so simple!

There’s a good chance that you weren’t completely fluent in sign language when you first showed up as a merc, so you had Engineer and Pyro gladly help you. So, that’s what made them even more excited to see you pick up on their mannerisms.

Because you knew the right way to do it. Pyro knows this, because they’ve seen you either learn it with Engie, or do it before.

Their favorite thing was seeing how you got more comfortable with sign language with time. Your movements are so much less stiff, and much quicker. It’s almost second nature to you now, and they can’t express how happy it makes them!

Though, lots of cuddles and gasmask kisses seems to do the trick.

Heavy:

Heavy caught you the first time you said it. His favorite step in your relationship was the night he decided to call you милая (milaya). You two were snuggled up next to eachother after a long day of battles, enjoying eachother’s warmth. (He’s a human heater, so this happens pretty often.) He wasn’t really expecting you to catch it, throwing it in the middle of his sentence to try to hide it. - He’s still a bit nervous about trying new things, you know! - But, you had indeed questioned him on what it meant. He merely explained that it was a term of endearment, and he struggled to find similar english words and ended up fumbling with Honey, Darling and Sweetie. Your face had gotten a little warmer at that, but you had expressed how much you liked the name and he had began to use it since. Now, it simply rolled off his tongue with ease when talking or calling out to you.

Ironically, it was nearly the same situation, only months later. You two were once again cuddling after a long day, though much more tired. This time, you two were laying down on Heavy’s giant bed with him on his back and you on your front right on top of him. You were almost out like a light, but you had noticed that your throat was dry. A glass of water was within Heavy’s reach, so you had mumbled in a groggy voice:

“Mind passing me that glass of water, милая(Milaya)?”

The way you said it without the russian accent almost tripped him up, but he froze right before picking up the glass for you. He figured you must have meant to use his nickname, Misha, or even his actual name, Mikail. He didn’t ask you about it, as you were asleep before he could form the right sentence.

It had plagued his mind for a while though, and may have made his face go pink a few times during battle.

Engineer:

Do you guys have any idea how wild some southern phrases can be?? Imagine picking up on that! But I won’t go into that, instead, imagine adapting his southern conjunctions. Ya’ll, ain’t, Y'all'd've. .. okay maybe not that last one, but still.

Something more common that you most likely picked up on was sometimes no longer pronouncing the G at the end of words. Fixin’, attackin’, goin’, etc. Just like Scout, you probably also had a few words that slipped into that southern accent.

But by far, the most common thing you did was drop the G and use ‘y’all’. Dell definitely noticed, and probably poked fun at you at times.

“Ya’ll wanna play darts or somethin’ later?” You head poked into the common room, where most of the usual mercs were hanging out, already drinking beer and chatting away. He’d let out a snicker, then follow it up with something along the lines of:

“Yer startin’ ‘ta sound a lil’ too much like me, Honeybee.”

He definitely gently teases you about it, “correcting” you if you “forget” to use the southern version of whatever you said.

“Don’tchya mean ‘ya’ll’?”

Demoman: (small gore mention)

Man, don’t get me started with all the weird stuff he says. The thing is, he doesn’t often use the same insults, so you don’t end up picking up on the more obscure ones. You might slip and say “ya” instead of “you”, and you might pick up on using “bloody” to accentuate what you’re trying to say. You might also pick up saying “aye” to get people’s attention.

He thought it was absolutely adorable, and would often follow through with whatever you said with something of his own.

You really wanted to use your favorite line of his on the battlefield one day, but he just so happened to be with you when you got a sweet domination, taking an opponent’s head clean off. You kinda forgot that he was with you, as he was focused on another opponent, so you let the line slip:

“Hah! They’re going to have to glue you back together… IN HELL!”

You weren’t expecting him to notice, or at least make it obvious that he did, but he immediately called out after you:

“AYE, THAT’S RIGHT YE BLOODY BADASS! THA’S HOW IT’S DONE!!”

Medic: (Gore mention)

It’s common for Medic to use filler words such as "eh, ah, um, er, eheh, aha, ja", and you’ve adopted that little habit. He finds it adorable that you started copying him!

Though, he definitely treats it as an experiment, as he does with most things. He also probably tallies it up. Like, he’ll just be having a conversation with you and have his notepad handy, and he only stops tallying when it seems like you might be catching on.

He’ll purposely use one of the filler words more often than others to see if you’ll do the same. It works! For some you begin to use them right away, others may take a while of exposure for you to start absentmindedly saying them.

The first time you used a german, non-filler word was in a fit of panic.

You had been practising some stuff on some subjects that Medic had allowed you to borrow. Of course you were interested in experimenting with bodies and animals, even people, sometimes! -You got with Medic, this is to be expected. - He knows he’s taught you enough for you to be safe to do this type of stuff on your own, and he allows you to use the medbay whenever.

He had walked in to tell you to come take a break to have something to eat, when you accidentally cut your hand with a scalpel. Without a second thought, you quickly let out a hushed “Scheiße!” before turning around to take care of the wound, spotting Medic. He didn’t have time to question you about it, since taking care of you was the only thing on this mind at the time.

Sniper:

The first time it happened was when Scout had asked you to hang out. He apparently wanted to show you something cool, but you were busy making yourself a snack. Mundy had just walked into the kitchen when he heard your reply;

“Cheers! I’ll be free in a bit!”

Scout didn’t seem to notice anything. Or if he did, he didn’t mention it. He just started rambling on about whatever cool thing he was about to show you. Sniper didn’t want to bother you when you seemed genuinely interested in Scout’s mostly one-sided conversation, but if you had looked over at him, you would have been able to spot a slight raise of his brow and the tiniest hint of a smirk.

The second time was when Demo had accidentally spilled some of his scrumpy on you. He was extremely apologetic, but you kept reassuring him that it was alright.

“No wuckas, Demo! I’ll just go change real quick.”

Yet again, you walked off before he could question you.

The third time got him backstabbed.

Though he’d never admit it, he often sometimes watched you through his scope, wanting to keep his S/O safe. This time, you just so happened to be semi-facing him, when you ran into a sticky bomb. You had noticed it a moment too late, so you weren’t able to dodge it. You only had enough time to mutter a quick “...Piss.” before being sent to respawn. Sniper was able to read your lips, and he couldn’t help but snort and let out a chuckle, not allowing himself to listen to his surroundings.

Finally, you did it when it was just you and him in his camper van. The two of you were bored and looking for something to do, when you had spotted something behind Mundy. You gestured towards it;

“Hey, wanna pass the deck of cards, mate?”

He froze for a moment, then he allowed his smirk to grow. You sat in silence, wondering what was so funny. He noticed the look of confusion on your face.

“Mate… really? You’re not doin’ that t’make fun of me, are ya?”

Your brows only furrowed further together, “What, what’d I do?”

He never called you ‘mate’ anymore, not after the two of you got together. Usually, he called you ‘Roo’ or ‘Love’.

“You called me ‘Mate.’”

“I-” You look at him in disbelief, finally making proper sense of his previous sentence. Then a smile began to slowly grow across your face, “no.. did I really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been playin’ parrot for a while, now,”

You shake your head and cover your face in embarrassment as you lean into his side. You hadn’t even noticed!

“S’alright, Roo. ’S pretty funny,” he snuggled a little closer, only to give you a small peck on the temple, “n’ cute, too.”

Spy:

One thing for certain was that he very rarely used your actual name. It was always pet names and names of endearment- always french ones.

‘Mon amour, mon coeur, ma/mon chèr(e)’, etc. And since you hung around him so much, it wasn’t rare to hear him use french swears and insults dropped in conversation every so often when talking about past battles and such. Once, he had accidentally spilled his glass of wine, and he uttered “Merde..” under his breath. The same thing happened when a burnt piece of his cigarette had fallen onto his suit, though this time he had said it a bit louder. He’d called people ‘con’ or ‘connard’, ‘crétain, putain,’ and many more. One that was a little more common around the others was ‘ta geule’, or ‘ferme ta geule.’ You eventually learnt that it meant something along the lines of “Shut up”.

One day, when you were extremely frustrated with an overly obnoxious opponent who really enjoyed taunting you, you muttered:

“Ferme ta geule, connard!”

As the opponent fully came to face you, trying to make sense of the words you had let out, they got backstabbed.

You were simply a distraction.

Though, that didn’t stop the way Spy’s cigarette fell from his lips as he finally thought twice about what you had said moments prior.

“Mon amour, it’s best you don’t start using those words too often.”

July.27.23

#fanfic #x reader #tf2 scout #team fortress #tf2 #tf2 x reader #team fortress x reader #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #team fortress two #team fortress 2

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scoutsbabygirl · 3 months

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Just gonna drop this in <3

Scout x shy!reader.

No matter how much they try, they can't bring themself to confess. With Scout taking full advantage of this trait.

hi friend! ofc <3 enjoy this little blurb!

it had been many months since you confided within spy. you pleaded for guidance as he stared at you blankly, drawing his cigarette from out of his mouth. a puff of smoke left his mouth before he responded dryly.

"perhaps you try your chances." he concluded before opening the door to his smoking room while gesturing for you to leave with an open palm. you knew it was best to leave now than to aggravate him.

there had been three or four conversations just like this with a similar ending all theming with "try your chances, take the risk, what is the worst that can happen?" you repeated to yourself walking out of the once ambient room into the bright tuefort hall. the worst that could happen is he says no and you both get uncomfortable in each others presence and never speak to each other again. you briefly thought about dying on the sandy new mexican dirt then seeing him running and jumping over your bleeding out corpse instead of finding a medpac for you.

today was different, you laid on top of your bed, holding a book to your chest. you wanted to open the pages and get lost in the world of words, yet, it would be hard to stay focused and absorb the text written on the bright white pages. then it hit you, a memory of him laughing, swiping dells hardhat from his bald head and seeing jeremy jump back and remark about the engineer's bald head. his smile was so large, how his freckles complimented his face, how his nose crunched up when he laughed hard. even though his laughter was boisterous and echoed throughout the southern desert. you felt warm in your soul. you wanted to tell him how you felt but couldn't muster up the courage to even open your mouth.

a tear ran down your cheek. then another. then another from the other eye. you sat up, still clutching the book facing the pillows laid neatly on your bed. the tears came down until you began to audibly sob, attempting to mask the noises but shoving the book in front of your face.

how embarrassing would it be is soldier were to hear these pathetic noises from your room? he was growing on you- even after all the yelling.

you would be humiliated if tavish heard your weeping. would you still remain his drinking buddy on monday nights into tuesday mornings? then promise everyone that was the last time until it continued just a few days later that week.

a little knock interrupted you and brought you back to reality. your eyes shot wide open. the door creaked open little by little, somewhat cursing yourself for not locking it. at the time, in your head it didn't enter your mind to lock the door behind you. you could feel someone behind you. you didn't know who. little pitter-patters against your rug that you bought before moving hit and the noises of rubber rubbing against each other hit your ears.

and with a little muffled giggle you already knew who it was. a warm hand was placed on your back, which you melted right into the much needed warmth. behind you, you felt a dip in the mattress and crayons fell out of a yellow box, spreading all over the neat blanket.

"sure, we can color." you wiped your face once again, trying your hardest to conceal your emotions.

a familiar gas mask was looking at you as they got themselves comfortable on your bed while holding out a colouring book. it was your favourite- one of candies and cupcakes. you turned around to face pyro, thanking them for the colouring session as it got your mind off things. you had taken it upon yourself to learn sign language to communicate with pyro, which excited the firebug immensely. they signed something back but you couldn't piece it together entirely.

"me? you? scout?" you asked aloud in an attempt to piece your thoughts together, not entirely understanding what they were trying to convey to you. you watched as pyro flipped through the pages of their colouring book, scribbling something down on the last sheet of paper which was blank.

"scout said to get you." was written in dark purple writing which was surprisingly eligible and neat.

"why?" you questioned. "where is he?" you continued, picking up one of the dull sage green crayons. in a quick swift motion pyro raised their hand and pointed to your wide open door making a "mhpf!" noise through the thick material covering their entire face.

"is he outside?" outside the door?" yet you didn't receive a response from the firebug. you took that as a sign. could jeremy possibly be outside the door.

pyro scribbled something with a sky blue crayon.

"do you like him?" they wrote. this made you more suspicious. you made a comment about how jeremy could be under that suit it was so obvious. earning a muffled laugh from pyro. you covered your hand over your mouth whispering if he was outside the door simultaneously attempting to sign your inquiry. pyro nodded.

"yes but i don't have the courage to-"

"see! i told you i was right!" you heard that vivacious voice from right outside your room. you jumped a bit by the sudden noise with your cheeks turning into a light pink blush scattered across your face.

the room and hallway suddenly got silent. you would be able to hear a paperclip drop across the base it was that quiet.

"why can't you stay silent for one fuckin' second, you fuckin' drongo." you recognized mick's heavy and low drawl.

"sorry. i was excited." a few moments later jeremy spoke in a low monotone voice.

you looked back at the opened door to where the voices were emitting from then back to pyro, whom was still busy drawing in their book like nothing seemingly occurred. you felt confused yet butterflies flew around in your gut as this little interaction validated your feelings towards scout and those feelings were reciprocated vice versa.

suddenly, the door burst open and there appeared scout. he quickly walked behind pyro and found himself next to them on your bed. in another context you would have found this moment exciting yet it seemed as if the entire base was waiting right outside your dark oak wooden door.

"well, (y/n), i think you're really sweet, you make me laugh, uhh-" he looked up at the ceiling, trailing off his words. "i think your personality is great." he turned to the door which your eyes trailed there in confusion. spy was in the doorway with an eyebrow raised rolling his hand over and over as he was trying to signal to the younger boy to continue on with his waterfall of compliments.

distracting you, pyro made a gesture as they were yawning which earned a snicker from you.

"i think you're beautiful, smart, witty, clever, there are so many adjectives i could use to describe you. i admire you. you're the first girl (or boy or person) that i've felt attracted to without thinking about having sex with you in a broom closet."

you heard and annoyed sign from spy and a chorus of "what the hell's" and "jesus, scout" and something incoherent from soldier.

"and if im being honest, (y/n)-" he stopped briefly, pondering his words in his head again. "i like you a lot- i might go as far as saying love but i don't want you to think i'm crazy or love bombing you or something."

you smiled at him, feeling the butterflies do backflips in your stomach as your cheeks must've looked like summer roses.

"if you're insinuating for us to go on a date then yes, i would love to."

which was met by a high five between scout and pyro and a chorus of cheering from the men flowing into the doorway.

#tf2 #tf2 x reader #scout tf2 #team fortress 2 #scout x reader #tf2 scout #scout tf2 x reader

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minori-hanasato-mmj · 10 months

Text

// hehe changed the pinned slightly :3

#firebug says

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oz00ms2 · 11 months

Text

ITS MY AU AND I SAY ACE LIVES AND BUGGY LEAVES THE MARINES AT MARINEFORD.

because a stronger buggy who watched these kids grow up, already has lost sabo and wasn't able to protect luffy. has shared his pain of abandonment with ace - who has told ace he is so happy that ace was born, has sworn to love ace as much as roger couldn't and rogue wasn't able to...

that buggy would put himself between an admiral and his nephew.

and that buggy would get in a lot of trouble.

after the peace forced by shanks' arrival settles, he sneaks off with crocodile who thinks having the marine who betrayed his own banner on a livestream (that was originally set up so beloved captain firebug would be announcing the execution of the scourge fire first, but oh did that backfire.) would be neat.

he will go to whitebeard's burial, he will thank the man for loving ace and showing him a world of family, and he will finally face shanks. remembering how he once was happy on the Oro Jackson. how they were his family and where he met his first and only love, and inform him that he going to find the one piece and become king of the pirates because that's his dream now.

& shanks falls in love even more.

+ this is how, instead of recruiting a large amount of impel down prisoners, buggy recruits the remnants of the whitebeard pirates. he is all their uncle now (and ace gets to cock block croc and mihawk because DO NOT LOOK AT HIS UNCLE??? YOU FREAKS???)

bonus: buggy and ace fighting over the receiver calling rosi (who survived because I said so) after the dust settles on a private line like "YOUR SON?? IS CREEPY AF?? HE BETTER BE HEALING MY PRECIOUS LITTLE BRAT LUFFY AND NOT SELLING HIS ORGANS!!!"

#oz babbles #captain fire bug #buggy the clown #marine!buggy au #shuggy #beats pots n pans #buggy au is my fix it fic APPARENTLY #i am emotional today apparently

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seancekitsch · 23 days

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Hi! I was wondering if I could request a John allerdyce x reader where they were friends back at Xavier's school and they meet again in the void. They have one night stand because of how lonely they feel there and then John confesses that he was in love with her at school

hehehehe hi i loved this one

I still don't know who you are, I only know that I'm still lonely

warnings: smut with feelings, smoking, reader in her feels thinking about the implications of the multiverse, ambiguous but fluffy ending

The void is cold at night, but sitting out on the roof of your trailer, you barely feel it. You stare up, stars dotting the sky, something you hadn’t seen in years before being sent here. It still tripped you out, the silence of the void most nights, compared to living in New York after graduating Xaviers. You can hear some kind of revelry going on from deep within the giant skull, but you don’t move to join them. What would be the point? These were all people you’d fought at one time, many of them also trying to kill you at one point. You don’t want to drink with them, as much as you miss that kind of camaraderie. Too much blood had been spilled for your liking, too much of it your own.

“Green thumb!” That voice calls, and you roll your eyes at the nickname.

“What do you want, firebug?” you respond, leaning over the edge of the roof to look at John. You already know what he wants though, one hand already pawing through your bag. There was a strategic reason Cassandra didn’t feed you to that creepy fucking thing in the sky. You can grow plants out of even a drop of water, and now you’re the cash crop in exchange for safety. Food, tobacco, alcohol. Funny how that works. Do any of them know you could poison them all? Does Cassandra know you’ve considered it?

John swings himself up the ladder to join you, plopping himself down as you finally fish out the baggie of freshly rolled cigarettes.

“You better light me up too,” you mumble, putting a second one to your lips.

“Why don’t you ever hang with us?” he asks, ignoring your plea until you tug his wrist so the flame is close enough to put your face against. You take a long drag, biting the edge of it as you let the smoke drift upwards from your lips, french inhaling.

“Okay, then I guess,” he pulls the cigarette from his mouth, “Why don’t you ever hang with me?”

You sigh, leaning back on your arms, plucking the cigarette from your lips.

“It’s weird. The last three times I saw you,” you sigh again, “It’s like, one day we were playing seven minutes in heaven at Bobby’s birthday party, and then the next you left us for Magneto, and then… years passed the sentinels were after you and I could do nothing. Or at least, my John was. But now apparently there are infinite versions of us and maybe you didn’t even do any of that, does it matter?”

You shrug, almost despairingly. The John you remember is not unlike this one. The John you knew was a friend, an almost something, until he wasn’t. One day the mansion was raided, and then all the sudden he was the enemy, and then Rogue and Bishop held you back as sentinels closed in on him. You hadn’t watched him die, you couldn’t. It’s for the same reason you forgave him for his part on Alcatraz instantly, even if that had caused a rift in your friendship with Bobby and Rogue.

“Hey I get it,” he says, fingers twitching as if he were to reach out to you, “but it gets lonely out there. Maybe I want a friend.”

“A friend?” you scoff, “You’ve got a bunch of them down there.”

You motion down towards the faint noise with your cigarette, biting your lip. A friend; what a weird concept for the void.

“Yeah, none of them will play seven minutes in heaven with me,” he scrunches up his face in mock disgust. And maybe another timeline where you’d waken up after Bobby’s birthday party you would have told him you had a crush on him, and then maybe he wouldn’t have left. Maybe there were even several timelines where that happened. You look to the stars, foreign in pattern. No constellations you can make out.

“Is that your attempt at flirting?” you ask, not wanting to actually dignify it with an answer. You pull smoke through your lips again, the cigarette now half done. And it’s the spent ash falling from the tip of it that signals to you how long you’ve been talking to the man next to you. A physical timer to signify the longest conversation you’ve had since Cassandra let you into this little club of hers.

“I dunno,” he leans in close, warmth radiating through the cold desert air between you, “is it working?”

You scoff at him again, not giving him an answer, but you lean closer. Your shoulders now touch, and the chill of the air leaves you. Heat glides across your skin, melting into your pores, gentle warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. Without thinking, you lean into the touch, pressing your arm against his to chase the heat. John says nothing, for once having the foresight to know words aren’t needed or wanted, and instead envelops you in an awkward side hug. God, how long has it fucking been since you’ve been hugged? You wrap your arms around his shoulders, a gesture he also chases, grip on you tightening as he rests his cheek against the curve of your bicep. You rest your own against his head, savoring the feeling of a simple embrace. His hands start to trace circles on your back, fingers drawing patterns on your hip. You hum in appreciation, his touch a salve on a wound you don’t recognize. You move in closer, your cigarette now abandoned to grasp and map out the expanse of John’s shoulders, straining against the awkward side hold to get even closer to him. One of your hands moves up to the base of his skull, fingers tangling in his hair.

John groans.

“Thats a dangerous move,” he warns you, but then you feel his lips brush against your arm through your tee shirt. Returning the motion, not even thinking about it, your lips find the crown of his head. Your bodies move involuntarily, seeking the closeness, affection between you. He groans again, and clumsily pulls you onto his lap to straddle him. Before either of you can think too hard about it, you come together in a kiss, a searing, messy thing. He holds you tight, pressing your chest to his, molding your bodies together. A strange noise leaves his mouth, a half moan half whimper reverberates against your lips as your hips make contact with his.

Curious, you grind your hips down, firm against his lap. Another whimper-moan escapes him, this time, desperate and hungry. His lips move against yours harshly, as if this is a last passionate kiss before an execution. You gasp as teeth graze your lip, stubble burns your chin, intoxicating as your bodies move.

“Fuck,” he pants, breaking the kiss only to still speak against your face, “I need you.”

You’re both breathless, moving in tandem rubbing against one another.

“Where?” you tease him, and then drag your hand down between you to land on his crotch, “Here?”

He hisses as he nods. He’s hard and hot against your palm, already straining against his pants. A bold surge of confidence has you moving your hand against him, almost studying how he reacts. You feel his cheek heat up against you, certain an adorable blush creeps over him. Fuck, you want more.

“Never took you for a fuckin’ tease.”

There’s laughter in his voice, and he squeezes your hips hard trying to urge you to keep touching him.

So he’s thought about this before.

“What’d you take me for, then?” Your voice sounds foreign to you, strained and thick from emotions you won’t dare let out.

“You know I’m kidding, right?” he asks, then presses a kiss to your jawline, “I thought you’d be meaner.”

He continues to kiss up your jaw, stopping only to nibble on your earlobe. You giggle as you try to push him away, girly and vulnerable.

“We should go inside,” you sigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and that’s that.

Your trailer is simple, enough room for a table, a hot plate, a cot, and a jug of water. Last time John had been in your space, it was a teen girl’s dorm filled with stuffed animals (some of which he had won for you), trinkets galore, plush blankets, cd collections, and polaroid collages documenting all of your friends and their antics. Though even in its scarcity, you’ve managed to make it your own. You’ve made paints from berries and flowers you’ve grown to paint murals, to write on the walls. It had become a hobby since photography was out of the question. You look at John almost nervously, wondering what he must think of all of this. His hands move at your waist, pulling up your shirt to explore bare skin.

“Get your pretty ass on that bed,” John commands you, hand snaking its way down to grab a handful of asscheek. You yelp at the harsh contact, but oblige him, turning to plop yourself down on the bed. Weak old springs creak under you, and you kick off your loosely laced boots to bring your feet up onto the bed. You scoot back onto the bed, beckoning him as bent knees fall open.

John wastes no time joining you, undoing his own boots to climb on top of you. His hair tickles your face as it dangles in anticipation of a kiss, his hips slotted between your thighs.

“Point of no return,” you warn him. Impulsive, selfish John; Protective, lonely John. There’s no conflict in his lust blown eyes, no questioning or hesitancy. He cups your cheek gently, and presses a languid kiss onto your lips.

You follow that one with a much more aggressive kiss, all but yanking him down onto you as your tongue moves against his bottom lip. His hand moves from your cheek to the base of your neck, thumb pressing just ever so lightly on your throat, and you whine at his touch. Heat floods to your core, every nerve in your body begging for more of him.

John understands, and moves accordingly, his tongue delving into your mouth as his hands travel further south. One of his hands finds purchase again on your hip, while the other drags between your thighs.

“Am I your friend yet?” he asks against your lips, and you nod desperately. You’re sure you’d agree to anything right now as long as he keeps touching you.

He pulls away from you, his eyes studying you as his fingers make contact with your clothed core. You sharply inhale as your hips buck at the contact, John’s hand steadying you at your hip. He presses harder against you, smiling as he’s given another buck of your hips.

“How ‘bout you let your friend John make you feel good then?”

“Please, fuck,” you gasp, your hands reaching up to try to pull him back down, “John, I need you to-“

He shushes you, and pulls further away, hands trailing down your form as he sits back on his heels. John unbuttons your pants before leaning back over you.

His hands work quickly unbuttoning your shirt, pushing it hastily out of the way to reveal you to him. You cringe slightly when you remember that the flimsy bra you’re wearing is stained; old blood discolors the top of each cup, a reminder of a scuffle you’d gotten yourself into. If he notices, John makes no mention, instead just groaning appreciatively as he replaces the cups with his own big hands. His lips move from your neck to your collarbone, mapping out your skin like new territory. You arch your back into his motions, unable to stop the whining keen from your mouth as he sucks a possessive hickey right where your collarbone meets the front of your throat.

He runs his fingers down your stomach, feather light touches that tickle you and leave trails of goosebumps in their wake.

His rough hands feel like home against your skin, hands that hold memory and shared history, maybe even multitudes of them. In all the other timelines, does John undress you as hastily as this? In other timelines, are you with John? It’s a stream of questioning that blurs and muddles like the ripple of a wave, disrupted by your pants being pulled from your legs, your underwear following shortly after.

He’s extremely ungraceful removing his own clothes, clamoring off the bed to shimmy out of his pants and boxers, practically whipping his shirt off over his head. You’re certain you hear a button pop somewhere. This eagerness is easily the sexiest thing about John, just an absolute need to do this to you. If his kiss was a spark, this move right here is a wildfire. You start to sit up, legs still open and inviting as you raise a finger to beckon him back over. Only, He practically tackles you back onto the bed. You’re thrown into your pillows, plush cotton and down cradling your skull as he eclipses the little light that exists.

“John!” you giggle as his frame covers yours again, his hair falling down and brushing your cheeks.

Your hands meet each others, then dance past, traveling across bare shoulders, traversing bare chests. Panting, moaning mixing with the air between you. He presses his hips into yours, his hardness against you.

“John,” you gasp, your hips jerking against his, instant friction blazing. It’s intoxicating, the John of it all surrounding you, his body against yours.

“Do that again,” he begs, and your hips comply, this time much more intentional. You drag yourself against him, his shaft getting caught in and splitting your lips. You gasp sharply, stopping in your tracks as he makes contact with your clit. Fuckfuckfuck. Your vision goes white for a moment, heaven behind your eyelids. John groans, dipping his head low to nip at your jaw. His hands find your chest, kneading and groping you, encouraging you to keep moving. The friction of the drag becomes less and less as your hips move, and if this were another time and place, you might be embarrassed at how obvious your want was growing; but here, here you feel emboldened by it, encouraged by John’s hips trying to meet your motions, moving himself through that want just as needy and desperate. He gasps and groans against your ear, and you swear, you’ll finish just like this.

“On top,” John pants, “Need you…”

He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. You nod, kissing him again as you grab onto his shoulders, a silent urging for him to flip your position. His arms wrap around you, hugging you close as he turns himself. It’s like a muscle memory, the way the two of you work together seamlessly in this way. Suddenly, the idea that this John is your John isn’t such an insane thought. Your John was intuitive like this.

You tilt your hips into hip, his cock now resting against his stomach, a much easier angle to grind yourself down onto him. You test the waters with the first stroke, a loud appreciative groan responds. The second one is shallow, technically several mini grinds, stroking yourself up and sown his shaft, clit catching along the head and making your shudder. Johns fingers dig into your thighs, his teeth gritted and brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’re a lot more patient than I thought you’d be,” you mention, though your voice shakes and clearly youre hurtling towards losing your resolve yourself.

“Please,” he begs, “Please, baby.”

And at that you’re a goner. You nod, lips falling open as you maneuver yourself over him, his hands immediately helping, grasping the base of his shaft in one hand and rubbing gentle strokes on your waist with the other.

Two gasps fill the air as his tip meets your entrance, and as if shocked, Johns hands move back to your knees, holding them tightly as if bracing himself for impact.

You ease yourself onto him, an involuntary hiss between gritted teeth as you adjust to the size of him. Fuck, he hadn’t felt this big when you were groping him earlier. The stretch is divine, though, your lashes fluttering closed as your hips meet his. Both of you sigh, a seal of heat and need bonding the two of you together. His hands move from your knees, trialing up your thighs to find your hips again. His thumbs dig into your skin, and for a moment it feels like pain, breaking through to something else.

As if compelled, you find yourself moving, not caring about getting comfortable and adjusting. Shallow thrusts; ripples in the tide. You grind down as you hips kiss his again, slow and deliberate. Teasing.

John practically whimpers below you, his grip on you tightening and loosening as he flexes his hands against you, clearly attempting restraint. How out of character for your John, you think, not even bothering to remind yourself this probably isn’t yours.

“You don’t have to hold back,” you tell him, your voice watery and wavering, “Y’won’t break me.”

His eyes leave your chest to meet yours, asking permission through a bitten lip.

“Fuck me,” you say, resolve returning to your voice. You grab one of his hands, and move it to your ass, pushing his palm into the meat of one cheek until his fingers dig themselves in. At this rate, trails of his fingers with stay bruised on you for a week. Good, you think.

John breathes out, a half sigh half chuckle, and then nods as if you’ve challenged him; and maybe you have, with the way that he looks at you the way he looked at battle twenty years ago.

His grasp on you never moves, but his hips buck up into yours, his heels dig into your mattress. You bounce up, thrown from stability at the movement, a yelp turns into a laugh, and you plant your hands on his chest.

“Hang on,” he jokes, and then thrusts again.

John sets an agonizing pace. He is neither slow nor gentle; forceful movements, energy buzzing in every muscle. He fucks fast, and hard, but his face is one of pure delight in the starlight. He smiles up at you like you made the stars yourself. You find yourself struggling to catch your breath under the heat rising in your cheeks, little keens and moans leaving a smile that rivals his.

He breaks his pattern by rolling his hips, a loud moan ripping itself from your throat as your body jolts, a clear warning you won’t last too much longer.

“I’m- I-“ you try to warn him, and he nods knowingly.

“I got you,” he assures you, his own voice sounding as out of control as yours. He tilts your hips in his hands, the next thrust now coming pelvis to pelvis, your clit bumping against where hair meets the base of his shaft. Your fingers curl and dig into his chest, begging to leave bruises of their own, to mark him the way he marks you. Something, if even temporary, to show that the desolation was staved off for at least one night. Something that, every time John looks in a mirror, he can trace the patterns of you in his skin. Each thrust earns a moan from you now, any semblance of control or shame gone now as everything becomes John in your world.

He speeds up, his own moaning mingling with yours, chasing his own end, a mutual high. His thrusts begin to lose their rhythm, speed and that delicious bump of his pelvis against your clit becoming his goal more than consistency, chasing the way you jolt and whine in his grasp.

“Gonna let me have it?” he asks, hand flexing, but never leaving your ass. You nod, head bobbing wildly with desperation. John lifts his hips fully off the bed, his thrusts wild and harsh; the need to have you come undone on his eclipsing anything else.

He babbles praise, half sentences of sweet nothings and encouraging, begging for you to come on his cock one moment and then telling you how pretty you look the next. He moans, cutting his own sentences off, switches up his stroking, interrupts himself in the desperation to please you.

You hold on for dear life, pleasure spiking with each of John’s thrust. Your peak meets you quickly, John’s body a lightning rod for your ecstasy.

“Fuck!” you come with a cry, shoulders crumpling as you begin to shake. Your hand planted on his chest curls, your nails digging into the smattering of hair between his pectorals. John’s lips are parted, eyes concentrating on you, taking in every second of this; the way your face contorts in pleasure, the way your body responds to his thrusting below you. You ride it out, John’s hold on your hips and his thrusts upward both becoming more gentle, your body contorting and contracting around him.

He pulls you back down, strong arms holding you to his chest. John presses sloppy kisses to your face, no real rhythm or pattern; just holds you as you come down from release, the aftershocks of pleasure. Your end triggers his, lazy shallow thrusts meet a shuddering groan, and heat spills against the inside of your thigh. Your hands find his hair, smoothing and combing through it, a grounding gesture as you lay folded above him.

You stay like that for what feels like an eternity, until he mumbles something about your knees and moves you off of him. However the cold air of the night has no time to sink into your bones before he engulfs you in an embrace, snuggling closely into wordless comfort.

When you wake up, your shades are drawn, only lines of dawn’s light shining through and replacing last night’s starlight. The first thing you notice is the streaks illuminating your little den.

The next thing you notice is the quiet snoring of the body next to you. But, as if on cue, he wakes at the slightest shift of your body, still wrapped in his arms. Instead of letting you go, or moving, he just pulls you closer, snuggling in under the thin sheet, his skin warm on yours.

“Quit moving, babe,” he mumbles, pressing a placating kiss to your forehead.

“You’re still here,” you say, sleepiness not hiding the surprise in your voice.

He chuckles, and presses another kiss to your face, closer to your brow.

“Mhm, ‘course I am,” his lips drag across your face as he repositions, leaning over your frame. His hand moves, and replaces itself to rest on your chest, a teasing squeeze as he kisses your nose.

“I’m glad,” you tell him, pushing him until there’s a bit of space for you to breathe, “I missed you.”

John searches your face, noting every crease and smile line, eyes darting from one feature to the next, soaking you in. You feel studied, like a bug pinned and flat; every bump and flaw and scar from a lifetime of fighting and running laid bare for him.

Before you can retreat inward, John opens his mouth.

“You know I loved you, right?”

Your breath hitches, a ghost of a gasp. A distant memory of fumbled kisses in a closet; of putting a cold spoon against a hickey, a chorus of teasing from friends.

You want to remind him he’s probably not even the one from your timeline, that your John was probably dead. But in infinite timelines, how many ways could that not happen? How many timelines have John staying, have John finding you again?

Your hand finds his cheek, calloused fingers dancing over his stubble. He’s handsome in a way you never imagined when you were doodling hearts next to little flames in your notebooks in class. Rugged, desert worn, masculine. Fuck it.

Is this not John finding you again, timelines be damned?

“I had a feeling.”

You smile as you pull him back down for a kiss.

#john allerdyce x reader #pyro x reader #john allerdyce imagine

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