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cobaltperun · 3 days ago

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The Catalyst (6) - Let it Burn

WandaNat x Female Reader

Chapter summary: A reunion opens up old wounds and a question of “What now?” plagues your mind. And the answer? It lies in the past, in the days long gone, buried under the betrayal of the woman you loved.

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Word Count: 7.5k

-Is your love just a drop of rain? Will we all just burn like fire?-

You could feel the slight heat coming from the inside of your house before you even reached the front porch. It wasn’t alarming, it was simply the stove being turned on, but it did alert you of an unannounced visitor. All things considered there really was only one person brave enough to waltz into a mutant’s house and turn the stove on. It wasn’t just you being the mutant though, it was the forest surrounding your house; it was dark, uninviting, you liked it, but most people would feel like it was warning them to stay away. A perfect place for a mutant to hide from regular people, as far as you were concerned. The moment you stepped into your home you could smell the subtle scent of instant noodles being cooked, confirming the identity of your guest. “Lena, that better not be the only thing you’re eating!” you exclaimed as you left your glaive hanging on the wall and dropped your bag on the floor with a light thud, it was mostly clothes, after all. You stretched a bit, fighting back a yawn. You should have accepted Tony’s offer to drop you off.

“Of course not, I had some coffee for breakfast,” you heard and noticed her thick Russian accent remained, which honestly made you happy. In her own words, she was done being a spy, so, there was no need to change her accent. She had no need to blend in, so she wouldn’t.

“Yay, that’s exactly what I want to hear,” you walked into the kitchen, noticing she changed quite a bit from the last time you saw her. Short hair, though not as short as Natasha’s, fully casual clothes without one of her vests that had way too many pockets in your opinion, so, she wasn’t constantly on edge like she used to be. But most importantly she looked a lot more tired, exhausted even, than the last time you saw her. You approached her and pulled her into a firm hug before she could put on a façade and reject it. “I’m here,” and it wasn’t because she was Natasha’s sister, hell, for a while it was in spite of Natasha being her sister.

She hugged you back for a few seconds and then pulled away. “Yeah, that’s enough,” she raised her hands as she looked out the window with a tiny pout, and you grinned as the two of you sat down at your kitchen table, complete with Yelena’s instant noodles. She dug in like she hadn’t eaten in a long while, which frankly wouldn’t surprise you. “An Avenger, huh?” she asked between bites and you leaned forward, burying your face in your hands.

“I guess so,” you muttered. You had that same nightmare last night, that endless space, that helplessness, it all still haunted you. It would continue to haunt you; perhaps even for the rest of your life.

For a while the only sound that could be heard in the room was Yelena eating, until that was done as well and she still didn’t say a word. And you weren’t sure what to say either. What could you say?

Maybe: Hey, I saw Natasha!

As if you needed to say that. She saw the news, she probably got her hands on some information that weren’t made public as well.

“You couldn’t stay out of it, after all,” there was something cynical in her tone, accusing you, and you couldn’t blame her. After all you said and did, you jumped right back into that world of violence as if there really wasn’t any other option. And in your mind there really wasn’t another option for you. Staying out of it would only risk more casualties, and you weren’t willing to just sit by and let people die. With or without your mutant powers the one thing that always remained true about you was that you didn’t have it in you to sit by and watch as people died.

“Back then I didn’t think something like this could happen,” an alien invasion, gods, monsters, technologies that were beyond your understanding, none of that plagued your mind three years ago. Sure, there were mutants, but this was something entirely different.

“What now, Y/N?” Yelena asked and you had no clear answer for her.

“Get ready for something worse,” you figured, knowing that was the only answer you could give her right now.

After all, that was the only answer you had at all.

Oh, things were so much simpler eleven years ago.

~X~ 11 years ago, Madagascar, ~X~

Spies had to adapt, to constantly change. They weren’t allowed to get attached, to people, things, or their own personality traits, at least that’s how it once was. Director Fury was a bit more lenient, believing attachment would make them fight harder; Coulson agreed with that sentiment. And while he got attached, there still weren’t that many things he actively disliked.

Yet, as brief as that list was, rain, particularly in humid locations. He had fresh air all around him, yet it felt suffocating to him.

The driver tried to make some small talk, but Coulson was so wrapped up in the report he got from Fury that all of his responses were brief and not exactly aimed at keeping the conversation going. It didn’t matter much, he wasn’t here to make friends with the locals, no, he was here for something much more important.

Like the report informed him Coulson was taken to an amusement park, which wasn’t exactly the first place he’d go to to look for a mutant, even if said mutant was a teenager. But Fury’s eyes and ears were absolutely certain that the mutant girl would be here, so, he followed the trail of breadcrumbs meant to lead him to you.

He found the man matching the description of your legal guardian, Edward, sun-kissed skin, short dirty blond hair peeked from under an old straw hat, fit, but not particularly muscular man in his late forties, dressed just well enough to blend into the crowd. A traveling merchant slash performer slash whatever the circumstances demanded or allowed. And sure enough, there you were, sitting on a chair next to him and explaining something in a rather animated way. Coulson took a moment to observe you, noticing that you didn’t have any physical mutations that would give away what you were. No, you were a regular fifteen-year-old, perhaps a bit taller than average girls your age, but other than that you were just a kid.

The man looked amused by whatever you were telling him, replying every now and then with just enough input to keep you talking. Strangely, he wasn’t bothered by you being a mutant, at least at a first glance. Usually when they got involved concerning a mutant they saw humans, even parents or siblings, rejecting the mutants. Still, the best course of action was to interfere and preferably recruit you before X-Men did.

So, Coulson approached, interrupting your conversation with the man and his suit immediately alerted the two of you. Indeed, a suit in an amusement park, especially without a child of his own, really did make him stick out like a sore thumb. At least the weather made the place less crowded at the moment.

“Authorities?” Edward asked as he stood up, subtly getting between Coulson and you.

“Not quite, but we can go with that,” Coulson offered his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson,” this wasn’t a spy mission, establishing trust was necessary.

“Edward L/N,” the man cautiously accepted the handshake. “Now, would you mind getting to the point?” he had no patience for small talk with strangers.

Coulson nodded, pulling out a notebook to make it seem like he needed to read the report. “I’m here to follow up on the report local police made; about the incident you and your daughter were involved in,” Edward immediately narrowed his eyes and this time you stood up as well, alarmed.

“It was self-defense,” Edward said, but then began coughing and you got him to sit down. You were yet to say a word, and you looked so talkative before.

“Y/N is still a mutant, I am-“

“You are about to leave. Mutant or not, she is neither a weapon or a monster. Leave and tell the others like you not to come back, you’re not taking her,” he said so with such determination in his eyes that Coulson believed him. They would get to you over his dead body, but what worried him more were the others Edward mentioned. As far as he was aware no one else tried to contact you.

“I assure you the people I work for didn’t try to contact you of Y/N, which is all the more reason why you should both come with me,” if taking only you wasn’t an option, maybe offering a comfortable life would sweeten the deal

You definitely seemed to consider it, and Coulson guessed it was due to Edward’s health. “I’ll be fine, kid,” he sensed your unease, immediately reassuring you and though you didn’t fully believe him you did relax a bit. “I quite like my freedom, and even if mine was for sale, her freedom isn’t,” and there it was, the definitive rejection.

“I have one more question,” Coulson’s tone changed, became firmer, more authoritative, yet the man remained fairly unphased. “Did you know she was a mutant before the incident?” he was genuinely curious, though he was fairly sure Edward was aware of it.

“Of course I knew, I pulled her out of fire when she was seven,” Edward grinned a bit. “Never mattered to me, all I saw was a child that needed help,” so, he adopted you, just like the records showed.

“We’ll stay in touch,” Coulson told the two, understanding nothing would come from this and figuring it was time for him to leave, but all Edward did was flip him off. Funnily enough, you’d do the same thing years later.

~X~ 10 years ago ~X~

A year later you were once again left all on your own. Edward’s sickness got worse, and he died in his sleep in a hospital in Japan. He didn’t have any relatives that would take you in, so you were left with two choices, try to survive on your own, knowing there was a chance someone would find out you were a mutant, or you could contact Coulson and join the organization he worked for.

Coulson was kind enough to handle transporting Edward’s remains back to the States and organize the funeral and then you were given training to become an agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. It started out good, you were good with various equipment, easily picking up the programming and engineering skills, you were alright with guns, nothing to write home about, but it was acceptable, but your hand to hand combat?

Maria Hill tossed you over her shoulder and pinned you to the ground once more as you groaned, knowing you would have to nurse several nasty bruises. Maria sighed and got up, sitting down next to you to catch her breath. She was one of the brightest talents of the current batch of recruits, and she was annoyed by you. “I don’t get it. Why are you even here if you’re going to hold back?” Maria asked you for what felt like the hundredth time even though she probably only asked you three or four times.

You huffed and turned onto your back. “Oh, I’d just love to see you cosplaying as a burnt toast,” you remarked sarcastically. Whenever you got a bit too into a fight you ended up lighting something on fire, and you didn’t want to do that to your fellow recruits.

Now it was Maria’s turn to huff, annoyed by your answer, or simply by your voice. Whatever it was you figured you couldn’t exactly fix it, but Maria wasn’t the only one who noticed you were holding back. So did Coulson, and that led you to Fury and the mutant depowering serum, a temporary kind, meant to be taken once a month. Fearing you’d hurt your teammates on missions, or even worse that you’d hurt someone completely innocent, you accepted the serum.

You never once argued against it. Edward may have had no issues with you being a mutant, but you had them. You feared your powers. You hated being like Magneto, or like X-Men who failed to once and for all stop the Master of Magnetism. You wanted to be sure you wouldn’t hurt someone by accident, but you also wanted to be free from the mutant powers you had.

~X~ Six years ago ~X~

There was a nervous buzz at the main base, a kind you weren’t used to. You finished sparring with Maria and were fresh out of the shower and heading with the woman to get a new mission. “You don’t seem phased by all of this,” Maria, though she was almost as nonchalant about this as you were, commented.

You shrugged, sure, it was a big deal, but you didn’t really care much. “Leave it to Barton to bring in the biggest news of the year,” you grinned a bit. You worked with Clint a few times, and if he made this decision then you’d have his back if needed. Even if most agents weren’t quite on board at the moment.

“The Black Widow, the only super soldier currently active, one of the deadliest assassins in history, switching sides after apparently destroying the Red Room,” Maria whistled, and sure enough, those were big news. Or a deadly trap, as many agents believed. “Barton is gambling with a lot here,” and it wasn’t just his life.

You opened the doors and let Maria pass first, the room was hauntingly empty aside from the two agents that had to be there. From the looks of it everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the Black Widow arriving. “Well, you guys accepted a mutant into your ranks,” you pointed out and Maria rolled her eyes, taking a small stack of papers from one of the agents and handing you half of it.

You skimmed through the data, noticing it was a simple escort mission, nothing too complicated, but it was best to stay on guard in those situations.

“And our mutant is depowered,” she patted you on the arm.

You rolled your eyes, even as a smile spread across your face. “Let’s just get this mission over with,”

~X~

“Simple mission, my ass,” you complained, taking cover behind a wall in an almost empty parking lot and keeping the frightened man you and Maria were escorting down. There was a sound you didn’t want to acknowledge a few feet away from you and you quickly turned the corner and fired, shooting one of the attackers and narrowly dodging bullets coming your way. “A bit of back-up here?” you were a tiny bit annoyed that Maria still didn’t reach your location.

“Two minutes, I had to get the data,” you felt your blood pressure rising. Usual Fury, always handing out different tasks to people.

“This was supposed to be just an escort mission!” you exclaimed, hearing someone stepping on broken glass on the other side of the wall and quickly moving around it to shoot them. The gun felt heavy in your hands as some blood splattered onto it. You were letting them get too close.

“You know how Director works,” Maria reminded you, and you knew, you absolutely knew. You still hated it.

All of a sudden, and before you could reply to Maria, three shots echoed through the parking lot and you heard five bodies hitting the ground. For a bit everything remained silent until you heard Clint’s voice through the comms. “All clear, it’s safe now,” you frowned, appreciating the back-up, but first of all, since when did Clint use guns, and second of all why was he here in the first place. You pulled the man up to his feet, ignoring the wet stain on the front of his pants and dragged him along while keeping an eye out for any potential threats. And then you saw her.

She was dressed in usual agent uniform, but you’ve never seen her before. Now, sure, you didn’t know every single agent, but even from a distance she was so striking you knew you would remember even seeing her in passing. The woman was ethereally beautiful, sharp, piercing green eyes, long red hair, beautiful face, and deadly powerful, and you realized you were looking at the Black Widow, Natalia Romanova. And she just killed five people with three bullets.

“Thanks, I owe you,” you approached her with a friendly smile, but she didn’t seem amused, she seemed deep in thought.

You noticed she was looking at the corpses as she sighed, as if accepting some heavy weight on her back. “Just doing my job,” she told you and looked you in the eyes. “Natasha Romanoff,” you did hear she’d slightly change her name.

“Y/N L/N,” you didn’t bother offering your hand to her, she looked like she wasn’t eager to touch anyone.

~X~ Four years ago ~X~

It’s been two years since Natasha joined the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, which really should work on its’ name. The only thing Natasha might have missed about her past was the short organization name. She was working on her report, meticulously explaining each step of her mission. It was four in the morning, she hasn’t slept, couldn’t sleep, really, and the steaming mug of black coffee, her second one, because just one cup wouldn’t do it, was the only thing keeping her company.

That is until she heard familiar footsteps and smiled instinctively and even somewhat against her will. She was the Black Widow, she didn’t get attached, yet she did just that, not only with Clint, but also…

She knew it was coming and surprisingly didn’t have to force her body not to react as warm arms wrapped around her from behind, just beneath her shoulders and she felt a chin resting on her left shoulder.

“Hey, can’t sleep?” and there you were, the second person she got attached to. And it terrified her because your touch didn’t just feel so natural her body didn’t react defensively, it relaxed her, eased her mind. You were always so warm, a part of your mutation that the depowering serum couldn’t remove, and she found herself sinking into that warmth, letting it melt her heart encased in ice bit by bit.

“The bed felt cold,” so, she flirted, half-serious, half-joking just to keep her heart from racing. Her heart never raced, not when she was in danger, not when she was threatened, or when she had to tell a lie. She could fool anyone and not blink, but with you her heart raced with need for more than just this closeness.

You hummed, as if seriously considering her joke, as if she hasn’t said something similar to it so many times before, dropping innuendos or flirting, or just teasing you. And you took it all in stride. “Let me buy you dinner first, Nat,” your eyes met and somehow she found herself being lost in your eyes, in that fire hidden behind them. Nat. Yet another sentiment she never thought she’d indulge in. She never thought she’d be affected by something as simple as a nickname. “Come on, let’s get some of that nervous energy out of your system,” you reached for her coffee, drank about third of it and gagged at the lack of sugar and Natasha, amused by your antics, smiled and shook her head. “Hush you, that’s awful,” you complained, staring at her coffee like it owed you a fortune.

Natasha got up, brushing past you with her report in her hands and, with a slight sway to her hips, led you to the training area. You ran after her, catching up and walking side by side with a bit of a sleepy, but still eager, grin on your face. You were ridiculous, and she absolutely liked that about you.

The moment you were in the training area you took a few steps away from her, giving her those few seconds to get ready for a fight. You didn’t need to, you’ve seen her reacting in milliseconds, but you still did it, still saw her as more than just a super soldier serum enhanced assassin. So, Natasha smiled and went after you, throwing the first punch followed by a spin kick when you predictably moved to your left. You crossed your arms, blocking her foot and quickly catching it with a smile on your face. Natasha winked at you, jumping into air and kicking with her free leg, making you release her leg and block the kick. She spun in midair, dropping an axe kick aimed at your shoulder, fully trusting you to be able to handle it.

And you did, not by blocking, but by lunging forward and wrapping your arm around her waist. You went to slam her against the floor, but she already had her arms around you, using your body to maneuver onto your back and easily regain control. You grunted, managing to slip one arm through her hold, but you were still soft. You should have tried to slam her against the wall, instead you were trying to free yourself the harder way.

She kept her hold on your neck with one arm and raised her elbow, going for your head, and you caught it, returning the favor with an elbow to her own side. She lost her grip on you for a moment, which was enough for you to throw her off you. She gracefully landed back on the floor and evaded when you tried to tackle her again. You were fun to fight, skilled enough to challenge her, strong enough so that she didn’t have to hold back. You blocked her punch with your forearm, pulled her into a clinch and tried to knee her in the face, but she not only pushed your knee back down using her weight, but she used what little space there was between you to launch an uppercut that you narrowly dodged and the two of you separated again.

It was a constant between you. She was too nimble for you to keep holding her long enough to actually get an upper hand, and you were too quick for that to give her an upper hand. And you just didn’t stop. She had enhanced stamina, but you were giving her a run for her money, and from what she read the depowering serum affected your stamina as well.

You both kept the sparring up for an hour, neither of you giving up or letting the other take any significant lead. If you went for the kick, Natasha was quick to jump over it and try to take you down. If she went for a direct hit you blocked and hit back. If she danced circles around you, you stood your ground, using quick reflexes and perception to handle her speed. And it went on like that until you heard the doors opening and Clint walking in.

“Interesting, uh… foreplay?” he had no filter and that earned him two glares as the two of you ended your sparring prematurely.

~X~ Three years ago ~X~

For once your were on a high-risk mission in Russia, hence Nat had antidote to depowering serum on her at all times. The instructions were clear, she couldn’t use it without permission from Fury, and she wouldn’t get it unless hostages were rescued and the compromised data was secured. Even after all these years the belief that your powers were too volatile to be safely used on a mission remained, even if you were occasionally given the chance to train with them.

And you believed it too. You’ve grown so used to being depowered that it only felt natural to not consider using your powers until the very last moment. Nat, as often as she was paired with you for missions, had never seen you use your powers before.

You climbed onto a rooftop overlooking the base held by heavily armed military-esque organization. The numerous guns strapped to your body felt heavy, two machine guns, two regular pistols, throwing knives, smoke bombs, several grenades, shotgun and plenty of ammo as well. Despite that there were still too many guards to walk in, even if you had Nat on your side, no, you’d need a distraction first. You watched as Nat took the two snipers out with ease, they never even saw it coming as she knocked them out, sedating them and tying them so they still looked like they were standing guard.

“All clear,” she whispered through the comms.

“Copy that,” you heard the zipline being attached to the wall just beneath you and used it to reach Nat. From here you had a better look at the base. There was no way to tell what they were working on, but the place was heavily guarded. “There’s your target,” you nodded toward the doors on the far left, supposed to lead to the cells, meaning you’d go and make a mess on the far-right side.

“Be careful,” Nat told you and you saw her nearly reaching out to touch you, nearly breaking that professional barrier she always put on during missions. On your free time she was comfortable, touching you, letting you hold her, sometimes even initiating contact, but that was never the case on the missions.

The fact that she reached out, even if she changed her mind, was enough for you. “You too,” you winked at her. “I’ll see you soon,” she smiled at you, that same adorable smile that you loved.

“Remember, dinner when we get back home,” she reminded you as you went to the trapdoors and you gave her a thumbs up.

“Don’t need a reminder,” it’s been on your mind for a long time now, and it was about to become a reality, but you appreciated a bit of extra motivation to stay safe and careful.

You opened the trapdoors and went inside, for once being stealthy, at least until you reached the ither side of the building. You put the night vision goggles on and carefully moved through the halls, silently knocking out anyone on your path. Just like the snipers up above you these guys would also take a very long nap.

You pulled up your collar, sure, you weren’t cold, but your breath was still visible when you exhaled. Nat wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest, she even enjoyed the cold, as cliché as that was. Although, she did mention cold gave her an excuse to stay closer to you since you were always warm. Granted, she was tired, had a nightmare, and was sleepy, so maybe that had something to do with her confession.

You slowly but surely reached the other side of the base and glanced toward the tower where you and Nat were. You couldn’t see her, but you could feel her eyes on you. “I’m ready,” you told her, seeing the guards you were about to take out in a rather loud manner. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit nervous, there were still lots of them, and some of them were heavily armed. But then again, so were you.

“Remember, be careful,” Nat reminded you and the chaos started. You grabbed your machine gun and opened fire, killing several of the thugs and alerting the rest of the intruder in this part of the base. Soon enough the reflector lights were on you and the place was turned into a bullet storm from hell. You dashed for cover, throwing one of the smoke bombs to cover your tracks and vaulting over crates, firing at anyone that moved.

You were constantly on move, not letting them catch up to you or properly aim at you. Someone like Nat or Clint would have been able to shoot you, but there weren’t that many people on their level. You were surrounded by the sound of bullets flying, people shouting in Russian, which you now somewhat understood, but not well enough to pick up words in this chaos.

You could feel heat on the tips of your fingers as you kept firing, shooting people or explosives they were near, and before you knew it the right side of the base was engulfed in chaos, flames, explosions and even more bullets. Several bullets grazed you, leaving small wounds that wouldn’t even need stitching. They were annoying but none of them mattered. If you got seriously wounded you’d simply get the antidote and your mutant powers would burn the wounds closed, you just needed to finish the mission first.

A loud explosion close to you caught your attention and you saw a heavily armed soldier carrying a glaive in his arms approaching you. It wasn’t a regular glaive though, it was absorbing the heat from the flamethrower attached to it and each time the soldier swung it it sent an explosion in the path of the swing.

“Shit!” you narrowly jumped out of the way of the explosions and fired, only for the bullets to bounce off the helmet the soldier was wearing. You weren’t immune to fire when you were depowered, so you absolutely needed to avoid the explosions.

~X~

Natasha cursed under her breath. The hostages have been killed at least three days ago, just before the mission got authorized, but she could still get the data. She plugged her USB stick in and began copying all the data from the computers. You were definitely distracting everyone in the base, she could hear the distant sound of gunfire, but for now it didn’t seem like she had anything to worry about. You knew what you were doing. You’d be fine. You had to be fine. But then the explosions started and Natasha began to worry.

She listened as the explosions got more and more frequent and immediately contacted Fury. “Director, I need permission to give agent L/N the antidote,” she quickly told him as she retrieved all the data from the computers.

“Denied. There’s equipment in that base that we need,” and she was looking at it. Advanced weapons and equipment designed to be used on mutants, similar to what Red Room was trying to create before she destroyed it. And Fury wanted that.

Natasha caught the reflection of her worried face on the now black screen. “But, Sir, there’s a chance the base will be destroyed either way,” Natasha tried to argue, surely you were more important to Fury than this equipment. Right? She clenched her fists so tightly she nearly made her palms bleed. She was being naïve, she, better than most people, should know the answer to that question. Yet, she hoped. Against her better judgment she hoped.

“Do not disobey my direct orders, agent Romanoff. We need everything to remain intact, put trackers on the equipment and flee,” they wouldn’t take fighting over to this side, they wouldn’t risk destroying it.

Natasha slammed her fist onto the table, shaking it with the force of her punch. “Agent Romanoff, you want to wipe your ledger clean. Don’t waste this opportunity,” but the cost was letting you fight your way out of this or die, drenching her ledger with your blood. “I’m sending Barton, Coulson and Hill to rescue L/N,” less than an hour later she’d learn that was a lie, but at that moment it made her decision easier and she put her faith in the organization she worked for, in the man she worked for. It didn’t matter, an hour later it was already too late.

~X~

You cursed your lack of close-range weapons as the soldier caught up to you and tried to cut you, and that on its own wouldn’t have been that big of an issue, but each swing caused explosions, and he was protected by glaive absorbing any explosion coming his way. You weren’t that lucky, and your protective gear was barely holding up, you were injured, blood trickled down your left arm and you were sure you had a concussion.

You ducked under the glaive, desperate, and cut the flamethrower part of it with your knife, detaching it from the glaive and just barely dodging the last explosion it could make, but you lost your footing and couldn’t avoid it as the soldier threw the glaive at you. The blade, still hot from explosions, pierced through your side like it was cutting though butter and you fell. Disoriented by the immense pain and looking at the handle of the weapon.

This wasn’t happening.

But before you could comprehend what just happened to you there was another explosion, caused by all the damage you and the soldier did, caused by all the damaged equipment, spilled fuel and the destruction. The explosion rocked the building and you crashed through several floors, falling into the underground levels, with the glaive still piercing through your right side. Ironically, the glaive saved you, as it absorbed the explosion that reached you. You landed harshly on your side, making your wound even worse. The pain blinded you temporarily as you grabbed onto the handle, grasping onto anything within reach as blood spilled from your body and pooled underneath you.

“Y/N, what happened?” you heard Nat’s voice, filled with panic and you could imagine the look on her face.

You couldn’t answer her, the pain was too much as you finally regained your sight and just stared at the glaive in disbelief. If you pulled it out you’d definitely bleed out, but from the looks of it you’d die either way.

“Y/N!” her shout snapped you out of your thoughts and you remembered Nat had the syringe with the antidote to depowering serum. If she could reach you, and she probably could do it easily since most of the soldiers were killed either by you or the explosion, you’d be able to burn the wound closed.

“Nat, I need- I’ll bleed out-“

Nat remained silent for what felt like eternity, but when she spoke you wished she didn’t say a single word. “I don’t have the permission to use it,” she said it as if what you had meant nothing to her, as if she was fine with letting you die here, bleeding out in these ruins impaled on a glaive. At least she sounded like she was sorry, like saying those words and leaving you to die broke her heart.

There was no use in arguing, and you had no energy left to argue even if there was a way to convince Nat to come back for you. You tried to get up, to fight for your life, but you just slumped back onto the floor, unable to do anything but close your eyes and wait to die.

The next time you opened your eyes you were in shackles, captured by the Red Room.

~X~

She could see a lot of herself in you. Not in your helplessness, or inability to escape from the Red Room, no, those hardly mattered to Yelena. It was your firm belief that Natalia, or Natasha as you called her, would come for you.

Madame B was cruel indeed, making Yelena tend to your wounds just enough to keep you alive, making both of you see the proof of Natalia’s callousness, of her tendency to leave people behind. You, bloodied, injured, damn near on the brink of death, were faced with someone who once hoped Natalia would come back and save her. And her, she was faced with someone carrying that same hope, heading toward that same disappointing realization that Natalia wasn’t coming.

“Natalia isn’t coming,” she didn’t even need to fake it, she truly believed that. “She didn’t come for me either,” the anger and hurt in her voice was real.

You grunted when she tightened the bandage around your waist a bit harsher than necessary. “Try all you want, I’m not letting you or anyone else turn me against Nat,” you weren’t that easy to break, she’d give you that. You were so disgustingly loyal to Natalia, as if she deserved that kind of love. You looked into her eyes, still so determined and defiant. She never got to be like that; any defiance was quickly beaten out of her. “I’ll make all of your higher ups pay for what they did to her,” you promised, sure that would happen, defiant to the bitter end.

She imagined a similar defiance was what separated Natalia from other Widows, made her THE Black Widow, the only one worth the super soldier serum, because none other could take it.

“You chose the wrong person to put your faith in,” so maybe she could chip at that instead, at your choice instead of the person. “We’re in no rush, you only just got here,” three days were nothing, you’d understand sooner rather than later that no one was coming for you. Especially not your precious Natalia.

~X~

You bit your tongue so you wouldn’t scream, but the electric current coursing through your body made it nearly impossible. The cruel irony wasn’t lost on you. If you weren’t depowered this would have had no effect on you, but here you were, tortured by one of your own powers.

The woman on the other side of the glass wall turned the machine off and you gasped for air. It didn’t matter the air was stale, breathing it in without electricity shocking you felt like you were breathing in the fresh air. The sound of dripping made you look to the side where a small puddle of blood was forming. Your thrashing reopened the wound, but the pain was dulled by the shocks, still, it made you feel light-headed.

“You should feel lucky, mutant, you can choose to make this all stop,” Madame B wasn’t even taunting you, she genuinely believed giving you that choice was an act of kindness. As if the choice between joining the Red Room and being tortured was a choice anyone would enjoy having.

“Do your worst,” you glared, you couldn’t do anything else.

“The traitor isn’t coming,” her words echoed as she turned the electricity back on and ten days into this torture and two weeks since you were captured those words sounded a lot more true than you dared to admit. “You were left to die by the traitor. The Red Room has given you a new life.”

You forced yourself to smirk at her as your eyes, wild and unbreakable focused solely on her. “I don’t want it,” you put tremendous effort into it and gave her a middle finger as she dialed up the electricity and finally made you scream, but you found some satisfaction in seeing the frustration on her face.

~X~

Another week later they have given up on torturing you, instead they just threw you into a cell, shackled to the wall and bit by bit emptying the cell with every bare minimum meal they brought you. And the worst thing about it?

The solitude was working. With nothing to occupy your mind, with no pain to focus on, you were left with your own thoughts and the realization that you were betrayed and abandoned, and that no one, not Fury, not Coulson, not Hill or Clint, and especially not Natasha, was coming to save you.

There was no denying it anymore. You were on your own. You’ve given them seven years of your life, and you were thrown away like it all meant nothing.

Maybe it truly meant nothing.

~X~

Each second felt like a week, drawn out, passing by so slowly you wondered if you’d go insane. That annoying dripping sound from the cell next to your own persisted, staying by your side through it all. Rhythmic dripping felt like its very own form of torture, just reminding you of how alone you were, constantly reminding you of the deafening silence that surrounded it. The darkness around you seemed almost endless, and the dim light of the candle did nothing to chase it away, it only forced you to focus on the blood-stained glaive just out of your reach. A dripping sound to break the torturous silence and a flickering flame taunting you in the dark; well, at least the Red Room made some creative choices regarding your time in their cell.

This would never end unless you let go, that much you understood by now. The Red Room wouldn’t stop torturing you until you broke, and you wouldn’t let yourself break. With no one coming to save you all you could do was burn this whole place down, letting your powers consume you in the process.

For years you tried to be different, to not use your powers for the sake of destruction like Magneto did when he destroyed your home. Yet here you were, knowing that was your only way out.

A sound of footsteps made you look to the side, the only doors leading to this room were right in front of you, so this wasn’t someone from the Red Room. No, you knew exactly who, or rather what, this was. “Is this it? The death you promised me?” your voice was hoarse, it almost hurt to speak. How long has it been since you had any water? Two days? Longer? You had no idea how much time passed since the last mouthful of water you were allowed to drink.

The darkness seemed to swirl in one spot of your prison, as if it was consumed by the one approaching. And then you saw it, this creature made of hundreds of small black birds, barely stuck together. With every step it took the wings of the birds closest to the surface flapped helplessly. The creature remained silent, only looking at you with empty, white eyes. “Silent treatment?” you coughed, wondering if this really was it. Would you just lose consciousness and die here? “Impaled, killed by my own powers. That was your promise,” you reminded it, but, like an oversized amalgamation of birds taking a human-like shape, it just tilted its head. It didn’t speak, didn’t open its’ mouth. Maybe this really was it. Sure, you weren’t impaled any longer, but the wound still troubled you, even if the Red Room made sure you wouldn’t bleed out, they never allowed it to properly heal. “What do you even want from me?”

The doors opened and you were temporarily blinded by the light piercing through the darkness. “Talking to yourself?” Yelena asked you as the creature stepped between the two of you. She didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge it, proving to you that no one else could see it. Somehow, every time you were close to death you saw it, and it only spoke to you the very first time.

“I am a good listener,” you joked, staring at the eyes of the creature. No matter how many times you saw it, you had no idea if it was an enemy or not. Or if it was simply neutral.

Yelena walked through the creature and you watched as it vanished into the darkness. Yelena snapped her fingers and brought your attention back to her. Luckily, she didn’t come empty-handed, she had a bottle of water in her left hand. “Here,” she offered the opened bottle to you and you never enjoyed the feeling of cool, fresh water, going down your throat. “Slowly,” Yelena chastised you and spilled some water on your face, which was greatly appreciated.

“Thanks,” you gave her a slight smile, but she wasn’t amused. “Won’t you get in trouble though?”

Yelena stared at you blankly, a lot like Natasha would when you were being ridiculous. They may not be related by blood, but the similarities were somehow there. “I shut down all surveillance in the room. Dreykov and Madame B are going to brainwash me tomorrow,” your eyes widened at that. After Natasha they probably didn’t want to take any chances. The thoughts of brainwashed Yelena fighting Natasha made your blood run cold. “If I said I want a fresh start, what can you do about it?” Yelena asked and you took a deep breath. You found a semblance of tentative companionship with the girl sharing the same fate as you and carrying the pain of being abandoned by Natasha. And you didn’t want her to lose herself to this damned place.

This was it. “Give it to you, as long as you can find an excuse to get out of the building. I’ll give you an hour before this whole place is turned to ashes,” you promised her, figuring that, if this was where you’d die, you’d at least take the Red Room down with you.

A/N: So... I'm curious, how would you feel if Yelena joined the team, more or less right now?

Taglist: @toxicitytiger @wandaromamoff69 @womenarehotsstuff @psychickryptonitebouquet @seventeen-x @maddsdotorg @arualdcg @ilovemybabygirlmoon @redroomgraduate @canyonyodeler @skz-xii @jokermoonie

#wandanat x female reader #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch #x reader #x female reader

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luvstarlizzy · 1 day ago

Text

₊ ˚ ⊹ ᰔ first times

you and your boyfriend, felix, lose your virginity to one another.

you and felix having your first time together and it being the sweetest, yet hottest thing ever at the same time (just like him).

his pretty long, blonde hair that hangs as a frame around the two of you while you make out, him hovering over you with his knee pushed between your thighs to relieve your ache for now.

he's never done this before, and neither have you. that's what makes this so fun.

his cock twitches in his sweats, but he doesn't do anything about it, continuing to kiss you like you're the air he breathes.

"jagi—" he lowly groans against your lips as you shift your hips just enough to brush against his bulge. he's weak for you.

"c'mon, lemme see you baby," you'd murmur back to him, not missing how he twitches at that.

his brain falls short before he processes your words and nods, sitting up. he runs a hand through his hair before shrugging his sweats down, palming over his boxers for a moment before feeling your hand join his.

felix moans at that. full on moans. and you didn't know how badly you needed to hear that until you did. that just made you even hornier.

he gently moves your hand higher out of the way so he can get his boxers off, too. he looks back down at you, hands grazing your own shorts.

his cock is pretty—not too long, not too much girth, and you're sure it'll stretch you just enough while also feeling good.

"you're genuinely so pretty it hurts. you know that?" he murmurs, kneeling down to kiss right below your navel, showing as your shirt rides up.

"please get my shorts off before i lose my mind." you laugh, breathy, and he'd never deny you.

felix would be gentle, sitting up and slipping your shorts off first, gently kissing at your stomach again and on parts of your upper thighs, all while his hands graze the material of your panties.

"can i?" he'd ask, pressing a gentle kiss right above where your clit was over your panties. fuck.

the soft nod of agreement you give him is more than enough for him to slip your panties down your legs and letting them fall to the bedside.

he crumbles. visibly. licking over his lips to wet them and having to remind himself to breathe.

"if i eat you out, will you tell me what you like?" he asks, "please, baby, i really wanna taste you."

it's not long until he'd flatten his tongue all over your pussy and lick a long stripe over you, making you shiver. it takes him a minute to get any sense of rhythm, and you guiding him on what you liked, but he picks up on it enough to make you moan.

your hand tangled in his hair has him keening.

it's obvious that he's a total giver. receiving is fun, but god, for him? nothing beats having a girl totally at your mercy, letting you satisfy her. his girl.

he sucks on your clit, a few fingers curling in your pussy as he does so. the gaze he has on you is intense, like he's studying your reactions to see how he's doing.

oh, and he loves praise. loves the reassurance that he's doing okay. that you feel good.

an "oh baby, right there..." or a whiny "lix, fuck, s'good..." suffice when you're clearly on the edge. he's visibly excited to have gotten you close, albeit taking some more effort for his first time.

when you cum on his tongue, felix basically refuses to stop. instead, he brings his fingers out of your pussy and leans down to replace it with his tongue.

talk about a pussy eater, you think.

"do i need to prep you any more?" he asks you, pulling away from your pussy as he pants.

when you assure him you're relaxed and prepared enough, he bites his lower lip and sits back up between your thighs. either of your thighs are in his grasp as he spreads them for you.

"is it bad to admit i'm scared now?" he laughs a little weakly while he reaches for a condom on the bedside, nimble fingers shakily ripping it open.

you laugh, too, and gently take it from him to roll it on his cock for him, since he's so visibly shaky in the hands. he appreciates the gesture.

"i don't know... can i just—put it in? i feel like it can't be that easy." he rambles, overthinking it.

it takes you reassuring him for a second time that you're ready for him to finally press himself against your entrance, the tip slipping in. the way he props himself up over you is so sexy, visibly wrecked by how your pussy takes him in.

panting, hair messy, lips parted as he stares down at where you two meet.

he slips in further, immediately letting out a low groan when he bottoms out inside you, leaning down to bury his face in your back.

felix definitely isn't one for domming. he can barely keep it together around you already, and how warm you are around him doesn't help.

"oh, baby... i feel like i could cum already. i won't. but... i definitely could. shit. how do you feel? talk to me." he rambles, movements still with the exception of him grinding into you gently.

the more you two talk, the better he feels. it's obvious that he just needed to be told you weren't hurting, you felt good, and that you still loved him for him to gain a little confidence.

finding a rhythm comes easy to him, and he's overly aware of everything you do and every expression you make while he fucks you. like he's learning while he does it.

so far he's learned that aiming up makes you whimper and hold onto his arms tight, going harder makes you moan and your arms wrap around him, and lastly, that rubbing your clit while doing any of these things makes you squirm.

he's a quick learner, which isn't a surprise.

when you start to feel tighter around him, felix knows—you're close. his fingers comes down to rub at your clit, moving in circles at a steady pace.

"baby, oh, baby..." felix lowly groans, hips stuttering, "i'm so close. i need you to come first for me, okay? c'mon, jagi..." he'd murmur, voice strained, fighting back his orgasm.

did he manage to wait for you? well... no.

he couldn't help it. your pussy was so good. so warm and good—it was so different, and at a certain point, he just couldn't hold it back. he fucked forward into you before burying himself in your pussy, filling up the condom hard.

the groan he lets out is heavenly. low, sexy, and borderline whiny. you loved it.

but you haven't cum yet, so he keeps himself burrowed inside of you as he uses his thumb to rub your clit meticulously, watching in awe.

"are you close?" he asks, and when you say yes, he practically lights up. the inner service top in him.

after a little longer, he's oversensitive, but you're finally cumming on his cock in the prettiest orgasm he's ever seen, so he forgets about that.

back arched, voice soft and your hands gripping at his bare, strong shoulders to ground yourself. you don't miss how he ruts inside you while you're mid orgasm, whether it's for you or him, you're not sure. you're too fucked out to think.

"fuck..." he pulls out slowly, rolling the condom off and lying down beside you nearly immediately.

"you know i love you, right?" he mumbles, littering your neck and collarbone in kisses, "you're the only girl for me. the only girl ever. the prettiest."

"i definitely get the hype now, with sex." he laughs, breathy, settling and wrapping his arms around you, "i feel like the luckiest man alive."

yeah, you're sure you're gonna be with this boy forever. no doubt about it.

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winestainedwhiskers · 2 days ago

Note

Hi!❤️

Can you please write something about Ellie and reader with self-deprecating thoughts? Or Joel accidentally walking in on Ellie and reader making out? Thank you!💐

cw: suggestive but not necessarily explicit, i got a little carried away sorry 🩷 ellie x f!reader, but no features are mentioned.

------

ellie's wiry limbs are tangled and wrapped around yours like vines, her biceps and sharp elbows pushing you down into her sheets as her tongue licks into your mouth, declaring her love for you in the best way she knows: touch. usually, touch would be her fingers interlaced with yours during afternoon sweeps of the town, tucked behind her on horseback, one of her hands holding the reigns and the other stroking your knuckles gently. sometimes, touch could be her hand on the small of your back, or your pocket, subtly gravitating towards you while talking to tommy about patrol and how maria's been as of late. ellie clings to you like a vice, magnetic and unwavering.

she does the same right now, with her hands cupping your cheeks and her eyes squeezed shut as she allows herself to feel. to experience you, to be satiated and thorough with her suffocatingly syrupy love for you. you breathe into her mouth, sighing gently in the tranquility of knowing your lover needs you, and she swears she can feel it in her bones. she tugs your lip between her teeth, not rough & definitely not mean. the action is desperate and needy and full of adoration. she's so, so close to shimmying you out of your top and showing you how much she needs you, and she's in the process of doing as much, lips still frantically meshing with yours and melting you into a puddle, so elated at her eagerness that it makes your heart pang for your sweet, sweet girl, your everything, knowing that you need her just as bad- when her door opens. ellie's eyes fly open, and you're scrambling off of her, practically sprinting to put distance between the two of you, to pull down your shirt and to find purchase on a pillow, a blanket, anything but her body, to make yourself look more presentable, less guilty, as if you weren't just shoving your tongue down your girlfriends throat. joel stands in the doorway, arms crossed and face unreadable. you think you see a trace of bashfulness, but it fades out immediately, and is quickly replaced with that same persistent stare. ellie speaks before you do-

"you didn't knock."

"didn't think i had to, seein' as it's my house", joel snaps. you trace your fingers over your wrist and palm, trying to calm down a little. this isn't fun for anyone involved, and it shows across the three of your faces. yourself, flushed and apologetic. ellie, arrogant and embarrassed. joel, uncomfortable and stern. joel huffs when ellie doesn't respond, and wraps his fingers around the doorknob, as if contemplating whether to leave, to let whatever he had walked in on continue- to gladly push the image out of his mind and move on; or to stay- and probably kick you out in the process and lecture ellie, or worse, to scold the both of you. after a few more tense seconds of heavy silence that hang over the room like a wet blanket, he sighs. "you're nearin' nineteen, i don't need to tell you what to do. just don't be doin' anything while i'm awake or home, f'gods sake.", he grumbles. he shifts his eyes to you, gives you a quiet grunt of acknowledgement and nods his head, joel's form of a greeting, before he's off, shutting the door behind him and padding away with heavy steps.

ellie's on you immediately, mumbling an apology, a half-assed attempt to smooth the awkward event that just occurred over. while her words don't do much to take your mind off of it, her lips give you the reprieve that you desire, and you find your rhythm again, quickly.

joel rolls his eyes the next morning, when you stumble into the kitchen in one of ellie's flannels and some sweats. ellie's still tucked into her sheets, snoring contentedly. joel hands you a mug filled with coffee, and you take it as a peace offering. after all, he guards his coffee beans like they're gold- so he can't be that mad at the two of you.

#lesbian #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #wlw #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #wlw post #the last of us two #ellie willams x reader #ellie willams smut #ellie x fem reader #my stuff #request

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buckets-and-trees · 1 day ago

Text

By the End of the Night [I'm Your Man]

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 6.2k Summary: The middle of the night after you've returned home from Stockholm.

Content/Warnings: forced engagement; talk of children; mention of a previous relationship (divorce); use of pet name (sweetheart); smut (unprotected vaginal intercourse, fingering, implied overstimulation, sex requested/used as a coping strategy/distraction)

Author Note: It's still I'm Your Man!May, folks! 😏

Previous Part | Full Collection

“Andy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” his voice is as soft as yours is, laying tangled and naked together in the sheets just shy of midnight.

“I’m going to sign the prenup with the adjustments we already laid out with Joanna, but I’m not signing the business deal.”

You wait for him to tense beneath you, but he remains exactly as relaxed as he’d been a moment before.

His fingers continue their lazy path along your spine, tracing patterns that make you shiver despite the warmth of his body beneath yours.

"I see," he murmurs, and you can hear the careful control in his voice. "May I ask what brought you to that decision?"

You shift slightly against him, your head still resting on his chest so you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "My business is the one thing I built entirely on my own. I'm not ready to cede that."

Andy's hand stills for just a moment before resuming its gentle caress. "And if I told you that disappoints me?"

"Then I'd say you'll have to live with the disappointment," you reply, surprised by your own steadiness. "Some things aren't negotiable."

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest. "Everything’s negotiable.”

You tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. "Not this."

Andy studies you, his blue eyes unreadable in the dim light of the bedroom. There's a long silence, during which you refuse to look away first.

"You're afraid I'll take over," he says finally. It's not a question.

"I think you can't help but control things you have a stake in," you reply honestly.

His lips quirk slightly at your words. "An apt assessment." His fingers trail up to tangle in your hair, cradling the back of your head. "What if I were to offer different terms?”

"Why are you so interested in making a business deal?" you ask, guarded.

Andy's eyes gleam in the darkness as he considers your question. His fingers continue their hypnotic path over your back, gentle yet possessive.

"Your business has potential that you haven't fully tapped," he says finally. "With my resources and connections, it could become something extraordinary."

"It's already extraordinary to me," you counter. "I built it from nothing."

"And that's precisely why I want a part of it." His voice drops lower, more intimate. "What you've created shows your brilliance, your determination. I admire that. I want to help it grow."

You push yourself up slightly, propping your body on your elbow to better look at him. "I can grow my business on my own terms, in my own time."

"Of course you can," he concedes, tracing your collarbone with one finger. "But why struggle for years to achieve what could be yours in months?"

"Most people would just say they're proud of their fiancée's accomplishments without trying to buy into them."

A shadow of something—annoyance? respect?—crosses his face. "I'm not most people."

You huff. “You never cease to oppressively press that point with me.”

Andy's expression darkens slightly at your words, but there's something else there too—a glimmer of what might be amusement. "Do I oppress you?" he asks, his voice deceptively mild.

"You know you do," you say, meeting his gaze steadily. "The question is whether you care."

His hand slides up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheek with surprising gentleness. "I care about everything that concerns you," he says quietly. "Perhaps more than I should."

The admission hangs between you, utterly unexpected. You search his face for deception but find only that intense focus he reserves for things that truly matter to him.

"I don’t know if I can believe you when you say that," you say softly.

Andy is quiet for a long moment, his thumb continuing its gentle caress. When he speaks again, his voice carries a note of tenacity that surprises you. “I will never lie to you.”

You search his eyes in the darkness, trying to discern truth from manipulation. There's something in his gaze—a vulnerability perhaps, or just a masterful performance of one.

"Even if it would benefit you to lie?" you challenge.

"Especially then," he says, his voice unwavering. "I may not always tell you everything, but what I do tell you will be true."

You consider this carefully. It's a subtle distinction—the sin of omission versus outright deception—but somehow it rings true to the man beneath you.

"Then tell me truthfully why you want my business."

Andy's fingers resume their exploration of your skin, tracing the curve of your shoulder. "Several reasons. The most obvious is that it's good business—your company has tremendous growth potential. The second is that I protect what's mine."

"My business isn't yours," you say quickly.

"No,” he says, “but you are.”

The statement hangs in the air between you, both thrilling and terrifying in its possessiveness. You feel a chill run down your spine despite the warmth of his body beneath yours.

"That's not how relationships work, Andy," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "You don't own me."

His eyes darken, and his hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair with just enough pressure to make your breath catch.

"Don't I?" he murmurs, his voice a dangerous velvet. "Your body responds to my touch like it was made for me alone. You wear my ring. Soon, you'll bear my name."

You try to pull away, but his grip tightens just enough to hold you in place without hurting you.

"That doesn't make me your possession," you argue, though your voice wavers as his other hand slides lower, tracing the curve of your hip with maddening slowness.

"Perhaps not a possession," he concedes, his voice softening slightly. "But mine nonetheless. As I am yours."

The addition catches you off guard. You stare at him, searching his face for any sign of insincerity.

"Mine?" you question, unable to keep the skepticism from your voice.

Andy's lips curve into a small, enigmatic smile. "You doubt that? You've had me wrapped around your finger since the moment you walked into my home for that first meeting."

"That's not how it felt," you say carefully. "It felt like you saw something you wanted and decided to take it."

"Both can be true," he says, his fingers resuming their gentle exploration of your back. "I wanted you. I took steps to ensure I had you. But make no mistake—you have power over me as well."

You study his face in the moonlight filtering through the bedroom windows, trying to understand this admission. "What kind of power?"

"The kind that makes a man rearrange his entire world for one woman," Andy says, his voice barely above a whisper. "The kind that makes him lie awake at night when she's thousands of miles away, wondering if she'll come back to him."

The raw honesty in his voice makes your chest tighten. You've seen Andy's control, his manipulation, his calculating nature. But this vulnerability feels different—unguarded in a way that makes you believe it might be genuine.

And yet you can’t bring yourself to trust it.

"Andy..." you begin, but he shakes his head slightly.

"I know what I am," he continues. "I know how I've pursued you, how I've maneuvered circumstances to keep you close. But don't mistake calculated action for lack of feeling." His eyes hold yours, intense and unblinking. "I want your business because it matters to you, because I want to protect what you've built, because I want to see you succeed beyond your wildest dreams."

His fingers trace the curve of your jaw, feather-light yet possessive. "But I also want it because I need to secure every part of you to me. It's in my nature."

You absorb his words, the contradictions they contain. The honesty is disarming—Andy admitting his possessiveness, his need to control, without apology or pretense.

"That's not healthy," you whisper.

"Perhaps not," he agrees, surprising you. "But it's who I am. I won't apologize for wanting to bind you to me in every possible way."

You pull away slightly, needing physical distance to think clearly. Andy allows it this time, his gaze remaining level on you, his breathing even.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better about how you've orchestrated everything in my life?" you ask, unable to keep the edge from your voice.

"No. It's simply the truth. I want you to know me, even the parts that are difficult to understand."

You sit up fully, pulling the sheet around you as you process his words. The moonlight casts silver shadows across the room, highlighting the sharp angles of Andy's face as he watches you with predatory patience.

"The truth," you repeat, tasting the word. "You say you won't lie to me, but you've built our entire relationship on manipulation. How do I reconcile that?"

Andy shifts to mirror your position, sitting up against the headboard. His chest is bare, the sheets pooled around his waist, and even in the midst of this serious conversation, you're distracted by the lean muscle and scattered scars that tell stories you don't know yet.

"I pursued you aggressively," he says, his voice measured. "I created circumstances that made it difficult for you to refuse me. But I never pretended to be someone I wasn't."

"You trapped me."

"I gave you a choice," he corrects, his voice remaining calm despite the tension crackling between you. "It may not have been the choice you wanted, but it was still a choice."

You let out a bitter laugh. "Some choice. Marry you or watch my business and reputation suffer the consequences of your displeasure."

Andy's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but you see it. You can read him better than you like to admit.

"You can't threaten someone and then claim credit for your mercy."

"Can't I?" His eyes glitter dangerously in the moonlight. "That's exactly what power is—the ability to choose restraint when you could choose destruction."

You stare at him, simultaneously appalled and fascinated by his worldview. There's a brutal honesty to his admission that makes it impossible to dismiss, even as it chills you to the bone.

"That's a terrifying way to view relationships," you say quietly.

"Perhaps. But it's effective." He reaches out, fingers trailing along your bare shoulder. "And it brought you to me."

You shiver under his touch, hating how your body still responds to him even when your mind recoils from his words. "You really don't see anything wrong with that logic?"

"I see a woman who was wasting her potential in a small pond when she belonged in the ocean," Andy says, his voice dropping to that hypnotic register that always makes you feel like you're the only person in his universe. "I see someone who needed protection she didn't even know she required. I see the woman I want to spend my life with, sitting in my bed, wearing my ring."

His fingers trace the curve of your shoulder, and you feel yourself wavering despite your resolve. There's something intoxicating about the way he speaks of you—as if you're precious, coveted, worth reshaping the world for.

"You're doing it again," you whisper, pulling back from his touch. "Making me forget why I'm angry with you."

A slow smile spreads across his features. "I'm simply telling you the truth. You asked for honesty."

"Selective honesty," you correct. "You tell me what serves your purpose."

"Everything I've told you tonight has been true," he says, his voice taking on that edge of steel beneath the silk. "Whether it serves my purpose or not."

You study his face in the silvered darkness, searching for cracks in his composure. "Then tell me something that doesn't serve your purpose. Something that makes you vulnerable."

Andy goes very still. For a moment, the bedroom feels charged with tension as he weighs your challenge. His expression shifts subtly, something unreadable passing behind his eyes.

"When you left for Stockholm," he says finally, voice low, "I couldn't sleep. Not just the first night, but any night you were gone." His gaze holds yours, unwavering. "I paced these floors until dawn, imagining scenarios where you didn't return. It was... unfamiliar. I don't experience fear often."

You watch him closely, searching for signs of manipulation, but his confession has a raw quality that catches you off guard.

"You were afraid I wouldn't come back?" you ask softly.

"I was afraid you'd found clarity," he admits. "The kind that would make you realize you're better off without me."

The admission hangs in the air between you, fragile and unexpected.

"I had Shep report your location, but I didn't call, didn't send anyone to bring you back." His jaw tightens. "It went against every instinct I have."

You watch him carefully, unsure if this is another manipulation or a genuine glimpse behind his armor.

"Why didn't you?" you ask softly.

This doesn't sound like the calculating man who orchestrated your engagement, who has held your life in a vice-like grip these past weeks.

"Because I heard what you said last weekend before you left," Andy says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "About needing choices. About needing some autonomy."

The admission stuns you into silence. You hadn't thought he was truly listening—had assumed your words had bounced off his armor of control and possession.

"You actually heard me," you whisper, searching his face.

"I hear everything you say," he replies, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I may not always act on it the way you want, but I listen."

You pull back slightly, processing this revelation. "So you let me go to Stockholm..."

"As a test," he admits. "For both of us. To see if you would return of your own volition. To see if I could bear to give you that freedom."

"And?" you press, heart hammering in your chest.

His eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "And I learned I could survive it, but I never want to do it again."

The raw honesty in his voice makes something shift inside you. This glimpse of vulnerability from a man who seems invulnerable is both disarming and captivating.

"And yet you still want to control my business," you point out. "You say you heard me about needing autonomy, but you're still trying to take over the one thing that's truly mine."

Andy's eyes darken. "Not take over. Enhance. Protect."

"Those are pretty words for control," you counter.

A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps. But consider this—I'm negotiating with you instead of simply taking what I want. That should tell you something about how much you matter to me."

You consider his words, recognizing the truth in them even as you resist their implications. "It tells me you've learned that brute force doesn't work with me. That doesn't make this manipulation any less calculated."

"No," he agrees readily, surprising you again with his candor. "But it has evolved. I'm adapting to what you need from me."

"What I need is for you to back off my business entirely," you say firmly.

Andy is quiet for a long moment, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the sheet between you. When he speaks again, his voice is measured, careful. “I won't push for a partnership if you're truly against it."

You blink in surprise. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," he confirms, though his eyes narrow slightly. "Though I reserve the right to revisit the discussion in the future."

"Of course you do," you murmur, unable to keep the hint of sarcasm from your voice.

Andy's lips quirk into that half-smile that makes your heart beat faster. "I'm nothing if not persistent."

You can't help the small laugh that escapes you. "That's one word for it."

He reaches out, his fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek with surprising gentleness. "So we have an agreement? You keep your business entirely yours, for now, and I'll respect that boundary?"

You study his face, looking for the trap, the hidden angle. "And what do you get in return?"

"You," he says simply. "Fully committed to our marriage."

The weight of his words settles over you. It should feel like another manipulation, another deal struck on uneven terms, but there's something in his eyes—a sincerity that catches you off guard.

"I was already committed to that," you say quietly.

Andy's thumb brushes across your lower lip. "Were you? Even after your friend advised you to keep an escape plan?"

Your breath catches in your throat. "You heard that?"

"I didn't need to hear it to know she would say it," Andy replies, his voice calm but his eyes sharp with perception. "It's what any good friend would advise in your situation."

A chill runs through you despite the warmth of the bedroom. "You're not upset?"

"Should I be?" His voice remains measured, but there's an edge to it now. "I'm well aware of how our relationship began. I'd be disappointed if you didn't have contingencies."

You search his face, trying to understand this unexpected reaction. "Most men wouldn't want their fiancée planning potential escape routes."

"I'm not most men." His fingers trace idle patterns on your bare shoulder. "And our relationship isn't conventional."

"That's putting it mildly," you murmur.

Andy's lips quirk. “Now it’s my job to give you every reason to want to stay, to ignore any impulse to bolt.”

His fingers brush against your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "I may have orchestrated our beginning, but I want you to choose to live our future."

"That's... surprisingly reasonable," you admit cautiously.

"I can be reasonable when it matters." His eyes darken as they roam over your face. "And you matter more than I anticipated."

You absorb his words, trying to reconcile this version of Andy with the man who had effectively trapped you into an engagement. "So we have a deal? My business remains entirely mine?"

"For now," he agrees, that predatory gleam never quite leaving his eyes. "Though I hope you'll come to see the benefits of my involvement eventually."

"Don't hold your breath," you mutter, but there's less bite in your words than you intended.

Andy chuckles, the sound scattering little bursts of warmth through your veins.

"I'm a patient man," he says, leaning closer until his breath fans across your lips. "I can wait for you to see reason."

"Or I can wait for you to realize not everything needs to be controlled," you counter, though your voice wavers as he draws nearer.

"Perhaps we'll both be waiting a long time then," Andy murmurs, his mouth hovering just inches from yours. "But I find I don't mind the prospect of a lifetime spent convincing you."

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a kiss that's far gentler than you expect. It's not the consuming, possessive claiming you've grown accustomed to, but something softer—almost reverent. When he pulls back, his eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

"There's something else we need to discuss," he says, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

You tense slightly at the shift in his tone. "What is it?"

Andy's eyes remain fixed on yours, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. "Children."

The single word hangs between you, heavy with implication. Your breath catches in your throat.

"I want them," he continues, his voice low but certain. "With you. I want to see you carrying my child, to build a family together."

You pull back slightly, clutching the sheet tighter to your chest. The abrupt change in topic leaves you reeling.

"That's... that's a significant conversation to have right now," you manage, your heart racing. "We haven't even made it to the wedding yet."

Andy's fingers trace lazy patterns on your bare shoulder, his touch deceptively gentle despite the weight of his words. "The prenup included provisions for children. I assumed you'd given it some thought."

You look away, unable to hold his intense stare as your thoughts tumble over one another. Children with Andy. Little blue-eyed beings with your smile, his intensity. The thought both terrifies and captivates you.

"I saw the provisions," you admit, "but I didn't think it meant you wanted children immediately."

"Not immediately," he concedes, his fingers continuing their mesmerizing path along your skin. "But I don't want to wait too long either. I'm not a young man."

You can't help the small laugh that escapes you. "You're hardly ancient, Andy."

His lips quirk in response. "Old enough to know what I want. To be ready for it."

You study his face in the moonlight, searching for any sign of manipulation or calculation. But all you see is that rare, unguarded expression that sometimes flashes across his features when he speaks of things that truly matter to him.

"What if I'm not ready?" you ask softly.

Andy's hand stills on your shoulder.

"Then we'll wait until you are," he says, though you can see the effort it costs him to make that concession. "But I want to know it's something you want eventually. That it's part of the future you're choosing with me."

You feel the weight of his expectation, the careful way he's phrasing this as a choice while making it clear what answer he wants. It's so quintessentially Andy—offering freedom within the boundaries he's already established.

"I wanted children when I was younger," you admit quietly. “I’ve become more thoughtful about whether or not I truly want them or was just raised by society to want them. But I think I still do. Someday. But Andy, this is all happening so fast. The engagement, the wedding, now talking about babies..."

"I know." His thumb traces your cheekbone with surprising tenderness. "But I need to know we're building toward the same future. That when you're ready, you'll want to have my children."

The possessive way he says 'my children' sends a shiver down your spine, but not an unpleasant one. There's something primal about the way he looks at you now, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—a hunger that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with legacy.

"I think I would," you say carefully. "But I'll need time. To settle into this marriage, to see if we can build something real between us despite how it started."

Andy's jaw tightens slightly, but he nods. "Time I can give you. Within reason."

You can't help but smile at his qualification. "Of course. Heaven forbid you be completely reasonable about something."

To your surprise, Andy laughs—a genuine sound that transforms his face, softening the hard edges and making him look younger, almost carefree. "You know me too well already."

His hand slides to the nape of your neck, drawing you closer to him. His expression shifts, the tenderness replaced by something darker, more primal.

"Enough talking," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that low register that always makes your core tighten with anticipation.

Before you can respond, his mouth claims yours in a kiss that's nothing like the gentle one you shared moments ago. This is hungry, demanding, a reminder of the passion that always simmers between you regardless of your conflicts. The sheet falls away from your body, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze when he finally breaks the kiss to look down at you.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his eyes roaming over your naked form with undisguised appreciation. "Mine."

The possessive word hangs in the air between you, both a claim and a promise. You should resist it, should push back against his need to own every part of you, but the way he's looking at you makes rational thought impossible.

"Show me," you whisper, surprising yourself with your boldness.

Andy's eyes flash with something primal and hungry. His hands slide down your body with reverent possessiveness, mapping every curve as if committing you to memory.

His lips trail down your abdomen, teeth grazing the sensitive skin below your navel. You gasp as his hands grip your thighs, spreading them with confident authority.

"I know every inch of you," Andy murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath making you shiver. "Every spot that makes you tremble, every touch that makes you beg."

To prove his point, he presses his thumb against that perfect spot just inside your hipbone—the one he discovered on your third night together—and you arch off the bed with a startled cry.

"See?" His voice is dark velvet as he watches your reaction with hungry satisfaction. "Your body has no secrets from me."

His tongue continues further down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp as he reaches your inner thigh, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. Without warning, he flips you onto your stomach with practiced ease.

"Up," he commands, voice gravelly with desire as he guides your hips until you're on your knees before him. His palm slides up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades until your chest meets the mattress, leaving you perfectly exposed to him.

"Perfect," he murmurs, hands kneading the flesh of your hips. "Do you know how many nights I lay awake while you were gone, thinking of you just like this?"

You can only whimper in response as his fingers trace your entrance, finding you already slick with renewed desire. He slides two fingers inside you with deliberate slowness, curling them expertly against your front wall, making you moan.

"Remember when I found this spot right here?" he murmurs, curling his fingers deeper inside you, pressing against that perfect place that makes your vision blur. "How you screamed my name the first time I touched you just so?"

Your body responds instantly, clenching around his fingers as a jolt of pleasure shoots through you. You bury your face in the pillow, muffling your cry as he works that spot with merciless precision.

"Or this one," Andy continues, his free hand sliding beneath you to pinch your nipple with exquisite pressure—not too hard, not too soft—exactly how he discovered you like it one night in his study. Your back arches involuntarily, pushing your breast further into his hand.

"Please," you gasp.

"Please what?" His voice is dark satisfaction as he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and aching. "Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me exactly what you want."

"I want you inside me," you manage, your voice ragged with need.

"Good girl," he purrs, and you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. He teases you mercilessly, sliding just the tip in before withdrawing again, making you whimper with frustration.

"Andy, please—"

"Shhh, sweetheart," he soothes, one hand stroking down your spine. "I know what you need better than you do."

He pushes in slowly, inch by excruciating inch, until he's fully seated within you. The stretch is delicious, the fullness overwhelming. He remains perfectly still, letting you feel every throbbing inch of him.

"Do you feel that?" he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. "How perfectly we fit together? Like you were made for me."

Before you can respond, he withdraws almost completely before driving back in with a force that steals your breath. Your fingers clutch desperately at the sheets as he establishes a rhythm designed to unravel you completely.

"I've memorized your body," Andy growls, his hands gripping your hips with bruising intensity. "Every," he thrusts deeper, angling his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. "Single," another perfect thrust that has you crying out. "Inch."

He shifts position slightly, leaning over your back, his chest pressed against you as one hand slides beneath to cup your breast. His fingers find your nipple with unerring precision, rolling it between his fingers with precise pressure that makes you cry out. His teeth graze your shoulder, the slight pain enhancing your pleasure as he continues his relentless pace.

"Tell me who knows your body better than I do," he demands, his voice rough against your ear.

"No one," you gasp, unable to deny the truth as he navigates your body with expert precision.

He shifts again, pulling you upright so your back is pressed against his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist like a steel band. The new angle drives him impossibly deeper, making you cry out as he hits that perfect spot inside you with each thrust.

"That's right," he growls, his free hand sliding down your stomach to find your clit. "No one will ever know you like I do."

His fingers circle with devastating accuracy, applying exactly the right pressure in the perfect rhythm that he discovered makes you come undone fastest. Your head falls back against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see your eyes when you come."

You force your eyes open, turning your head to meet his gaze. The blue of his irises has been consumed by black, his pupils dilated with lust as he watches you with predatory focus.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his fingers increasing their pace as his thrusts become more forceful. "Now come for me."

As if your body can't help but obey, your orgasm crashes through you with stunning intensity. Your inner walls clench around him rhythmically as waves of pleasure radiate outward from your core. Andy's name tears from your throat as your body convulses in his arms.

But he doesn't stop. Instead, he lays you down on your back, his eyes never leaving yours as he positions himself between your legs. Your body is still trembling from your release, oversensitive and pliant, but he slides back inside you with one smooth thrust that makes you gasp.

"I'm not done with you yet," he murmurs, his voice thick with possession as he begins to move again. This time his pace is slower, more deliberate, each thrust deep and purposeful. "I want to feel you come apart for me again."

Your hands reach up to grip his shoulders, nails digging into the corded muscle as he drives into you with renewed purpose. The oversensitivity from your first orgasm makes every sensation more intense, more overwhelming.

"Too much," you whisper, but your body betrays you, arching up to meet his thrusts.

"No such thing," Andy replies, his eyes never leaving yours as his hand slides between your bodies to find your oversensitive clit. "You can take it. You can take everything I give you."

His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles that have you writhing beneath him, caught between the exquisite torture of overstimulation and the building need for another release. Your breath comes in short gasps as he works you with the expertise of a man who has indeed memorized every inch of your body.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice a dark whisper against your ear as he leans down to press his forehead to yours. "Let go for me again."

The intimacy of the position—face to face, eyes locked, breathing each other's air—makes this feel different from the desperate claiming in the garage. This feels like worship, like reverence, like something deeper than possession.

Your second orgasm builds slower but stronger, a rising tide that threatens to sweep you away completely. When it crashes through you, it's with a force that makes you cry out, your body arching off the bed as pleasure radiates from your core in pulsing waves. Andy watches you with undisguised awe, his rhythm faltering as your inner walls clench around him rhythmically.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice strained as he fights for control. "So fucking beautiful when you come for me."

Only when the last tremor passes through you does he allow himself to chase his own release. His thrusts become more urgent, more primal, his breathing harsh in the quiet of the bedroom. You watch his face as pleasure overtakes him—the way his jaw tightens, the vulnerable furrow of his brow, the slight parting of his lips as he groans your name. This moment of surrender, when his careful control shatters, is rare, it’s something your soul scraps away into the back of your mind.

For long moments, neither of you moves. Andy's weight presses you into the mattress, his breathing harsh against your neck as he recovers. When he finally shifts, rolling to pull you against his side, you're both slick with perspiration and boneless satisfaction.

"Now you're truly home," Andy murmurs against your temple, his voice soft with contentment.

You nestle closer to his warmth, your body still humming with aftershocks. In the quiet aftermath, with moonlight painting silver patterns across the rumpled sheets, you feel something shift between you. Not surrender exactly, but perhaps acceptance—of him, of this complicated dance you've found yourselves in, of the undeniable pull that exists despite everything.

"Andy?" you whisper into the darkness.

"Mmm?" His fingers resume their lazy exploration of your spine.

“What happens when you get bored? When the challenge is gone and I'm just another possession in your collection?"

You feel his whole body go rigid beneath you, muscles tensing as if bracing for impact. The lazy patterns his fingers were tracing on your skin cease abruptly. The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy in the moonlit bedroom.

When he finally speaks, his voice is carefully controlled. "You think this is a game to me?"

Before you can answer, his hand moves to cup your chin, fingers firm but not painful as he tilts your face up, forcing you to meet his penetrating gaze. His eyes are intense, almost fierce in their focus.

"I've been married before," he says quietly, the admission hitting you like a physical blow. "This isn't some novelty for me. This isn't a whim or a passing fancy."

You blink in surprise, trying to process this new information. "You were married? When? Who was she?"

His expression closes off, a shuttered look replacing the vulnerability of moments before. "I don't want to discuss her. Not tonight."

"But—"

"I promise I'll tell you everything," he interrupts, his voice gentler now but still firm. "The whole story, whenever you're ready to hear it. And if you wish, you can meet her. We've maintained civil relations over the years."

You stare at him, processing this revelation. "You're still in contact with your ex-wife?"

"Occasionally. Professional courtesy." His jaw works as he considers his next words. "But I don't want her memory in our bed tonight. Not when I've just gotten you back. Not when we're like this." His gesture encompasses your naked bodies, the rumpled sheets, the intimate space you've created.

The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver through you. You study his face, noting the tension around his eyes, the slight tightening of his mouth. Your mind races with questions. Who was she? What happened? Why has he never mentioned her before?

Andy must read the curiosity in your expression because his features soften slightly. "We're not defined by our past relationships," Andy says, his thumb tracing your lower lip with unexpected tenderness. "What matters is what we're building now."

You're not satisfied with his deflection, but you recognize the finality in his tone. This is a boundary he's drawing, at least for tonight.

You consider pushing further, but blessedly exhaustion is beginning to creep back in around the edges of your consciousness. The emotional weight of the day—returning home, the conversation about your business, the revelation about children, and now this hint of a mysterious past—and the physical—traveling over an ocean and the copious amounts of copulation—have taken their toll.

"Well," you murmur, shifting your body against his, deliberately brushing your thigh against his groin, "if you won't tell me about your ex-wife tonight, you better turn my brain off entirely."

His eyebrow arches, a flicker of interest replacing the guarded expression. "You should be exhausted."

"I am," you admit, trailing your fingers down his chest. "But I'm also curious. And if you won’t satisfy my curiosity, then you’ll need to satisfy me in other ways to empty my head..."

A slow, predatory smile spreads across Andy's face. "You're insatiable."

"Only with you," you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it.

Something flickers in Andy's eyes—surprise, perhaps, or satisfaction. His hand slides down your body with renewed purpose, fingers finding you still slick from your previous encounters.

"Then let me wear you out properly," he murmurs against your throat, his voice a dark promise that makes your pulse quicken despite your exhaustion.

And in the late hour, he time he takes his time. Every kiss, every caress is deliberate, calculated to drive you to the edge of sanity. When you finally shatter beneath his ministrations, it's with a broken cry that echoes off the bedroom walls that leaves you in a state of utter bonelessness. You don’t even register the words he murmurs in your ear as you drift immediately into sleep, only that he’s saying something before pressing one more tender kiss to your forehead.

Oops, I did it again. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, paging @biteofcherry - your stabbing is not proving to be very effective. You might need a new dagger. The muse is impervious apparently.

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

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#chris evans characters #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber smut #female reader #i'm your man collection #aspen wrote something

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smirkyblueberrywhale · 2 days ago

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Riding Nagumo on his sleep 👀

OOHH YES PLEASEE!!

serving some sleeping nagumo !

WARNINGS : Somnophilia ( sleep sex kink ), rough sex, payback, teasing, and more ! :0

A/N : wishing i made this a bittt longer:((

You and Nagumo had a restless day. He had killed atleast 3 people for his mission in the Order. It was a BIT stressful of a mission to do, and they were all ganging up on him! one grabbing his guns and knives so he can’t fight back, one leading him to dangerous traps, and the other one he was fighting. He couldn’t tell you that it was a really tiring mission, getting hanged ( not on the neck LMAO ), falling, and no sorts of weapons unless his hands! it led him to multiple bruises and bumps, when he went home, he was greeted by a gasp coming from your lips, and you quickly grabbed some medicine and such.

You washed his body as he ranted out everything ( well, he didn’t tell you the part where he did fall for ONE trap.. ). Nagumo didn’t want to go and change, so he instantly went to bed, and slept straight away.

You went to bed aswell, hugging him, kissing his cheek and tracing his tattoos. wait.. he mentioned getting a tattoo near his cock.. you tried checking it out but saw a hard cock instead. poor guy was so busy he didn’t have time to fuck you! You got an idea, maybe to ride him.? Nagumo won’t mind, would he? you quickly removed your bottoms, and rode him. he let out a quiet moan as you moved, and you bobbed your hips up and down. Your hands found their way to both sides of his head, gripping the sheets tightly as you tried to go faster.

It’s been awhile since you’ve done this with him, and you’re basically shaking just by the feel of his dick going inside and out of your warm insides. Seeing his sleeping face was so hot, grinding into his dick, watching his genuine expressions, and even the sounds were enough to make you cum! You suddenly stopped when you felt a pair of warm hands wrap around your ass, you looked at Nagumo’s face once more, and he looked back at you !!

“ you’re eager, aren’t you? “ He smirked tiredly, “ i didn’t know you were so— aah..! “, he moaned as you went by to riding him, his grip on your ass only getting tighter. Nagumo was completely at your mercy, body numb. “ let me continue my sentences.. you teasee.. “ He would be lying if he said that it didn’t feel good after all the crazy shits he fought.. You’ve had him all up in your finger, moaning like a bottom. it’s very silly, really.

Your legs started becoming a bit tired, and you chased your release. He lifted his hips up and groaned loudly, he was already gonna cum. some time, with all the crazy slaps of skin to skin, you finally came, nagumo following aswell and loads of cum spurting into your velvet walls, painting them alll white. it’s a cute sight, seeing him shuddering and whining, a cute mess, your cute mess.

You cleaned up, and when you came back, he was already plopped into the soft cushions, and snoring like a bear. You laughed to yourself, only a bit hard of a mission? must’ve been a lie. You softly kissed his forehead and slept with him, hugging his limp body.

The next day, you woke up to.. Nagumo slamming his cock into you repeatedly.! you tried to stop him but was interrupted by a harsh slap on the ass. “ did you really think i was gonna let you treat me like that? i was tired, you know.. “ he leaned into your ear, his lips right behind it as he spreaded your legs even more to thrust even deeper. “ you can’t do that to me.. i’m vulnerable when asleep, i was working for you. for us. but you just tired me eeeveenn moree.. “ he let out a deep chuckle and grabbed your boobs, rutting into you like he was trying to shape your guts to his dick. You gripped tightly on the sheets, threw your head back, eyes rolled back, and let a choked moan out, breath uneven.. all you could think about was his dick, rutting and ruining your parts. before you got the chance to think, you squirted all over him. He came the same time as you did, shooting his cum deep inside you.

“ don’t play with me, darling. you know i’ll always find a way to be top. “ he messed your hair up and kissed you. Now you were the bottom.. and it’s all because of that tattooed dick.

author : @smirkyblueberrywhale , please do not copy, use to train ai, or take my png’s !

#nagumo yoichi #nagumo x reader #sakamoto days nagumo #yoichi nagumo #sakadays smut #sakamoto days #smut #azure the whale #azure writes #japan #x reader

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coffinclownery · 2 days ago

Text

Why Ashley Gets Along with the Entity and What it Might Want

There's a delightful irony to the fact that the only person Ashley seems to even somewhat get along with that's not Andrew is a literal demon. And when you see the interactions between them throughout the routes it makes sense.

For one Ashley doesn't have a fear reaction that would tell her to run the other way. It's been stated that Ashley isn't afraid of Andrew, but I think it's more accurate to say that she's not afraid of anything except for one specific thing. Being separated from Andrew. She can take on anything else so long as Andrew stays. Even after being almost killed and beaten up by Andrew she is more afraid of his absence than the clear danger he presents to her. Even when it comes to dying, its not the death that scares her (though she clearly doesn't want to die and would rather not thanks) it's the idea of death permanently separating her from Andrew.

All this to say unless the Entity threatens to unglue her and Andrew Ashley sees nothing wrong with hanging with it. It's only in the scenes where it says that Andrew could betray her in Cliffhanger and when it threatens to kill Andrew in Shots that Ashley's ever afraid, because in both cases it threatens to permanently split them apart.

So that's why she's unbothered by the Entity, now let's move on to why they actually get along. That being deals. The deals the Entity makes are, at least on the surface, clear-cut and precise. It wants A in exchange for B, simple and easy to follow.

There's no vague request for conceptual shit like Andrew demands. Respect? Boundaries? Even if she would agree to those things, she has no fucking clue what that means or how to implement things like that, because she never had to learn those concepts and frankly doesn't even respect herself or her own boundaries. Not to mention to her things like respect and boundaries might feel like excuses for Andrew to get away from her, the one thing she's afraid of so like, no thanks. There's also the issue of Andrew himself never specifying what he really wants from her, because to do so would reveal how down bad he is. Even if Ashley somehow learns respect, it was never going to be enough for Andrew in the first place. But that's for another post. Moving on!

With the Entity she doesn't feel the need to "play games" with it to get the needed reaction. What it wants and what it provides in exchange appear obvious and solid. She doesn't need to perform a specific way to get what she wants, she just needs to do simple exchanges. It's the same with the puzzles in the world. It initially frustrated her, but once she understood that she just needs to do A to get to B the same way deals work it was easy to follow. When she understands the rules of the game she thrives.

And while the Entity isn't the best conversationalist, it also doesn't pass judgement on Ashley's crassness. It doesn't belittle her or question her intelligence like Andrew always does even when they get along. The only time it went, "girl why?" was the period blood summoning, which Ashley simply laughs off. It doesn't seem to care but it does appear to listen to her quietly when she complains. It often doesn't have a response (or maybe it's more accurate to say it doesn't know how to respond most of the time) but it also doesn't cut her off. It even sometimes acts genuinely curious about Ashley, asking about why she's so attached to "the brother" and if she's in the right headspace to do business.

Like when Ashley was first complaining about Andrew in the Realm Between, the Entity lets her finish before continuing its offer. And then later in the parents' basement it makes note of the brother, showing that despite not seeming to care it was paying attention to what she said. How it treats Andrew is also affected by Ashley's response. It wasn't just that Andrew's a Grime Soul that made the Entity so dismissive of him, it was how Ashley introduced him.

She says she doesn't know why she keeps him around, which is why the Entity is later confused at why she wants him around anyway. Even after the vision of her dying at his hand and especially in Shots where she was literally almost killed by him.

Then in Shots when she ends up as his eternal servant and is the most agitated with her, it still lets her stay with Andrew in the Human Realm. There's no reason for the Entity to not keep her trapped in the Demon Realm regardless of how she feels, or even let Andrew leave instead of killing him after he freed all the souls. And yet it does. While also being suuuuper petty about it lol.

"HuRrY uP aNd DuMp HiS aSs, TaR sOul"

This isn't to say it's doing things out of kindness. A lot of what the Entity does seems to be more about what's most convenient while conserving its energy. It's how it treats summoning, where its very calculating on which summons are worth the cost, and it's how it treats the souls it takes, allowing them to hang out in a nice playground so they don't fade too fast. And this extends to its treatment of Ashley. It may want her obedience and for her to dump her brother in Decay, and could push for this harder, but the effort it would take for her to cooperate just wouldn't seem worth it. It's not worth fighting her over it.

It goes in line with one of the first things we learn about demons too.

But also Ashley doesn't care as much about the Entity's reasons more than what it provides. That's why it's impossible for Andrew to convince her it's up to something. She doesn't care! What matters is that the demon gave her the trinket and an isolated place to stay, things that she believes ensures Andrew stays with her.

The certainty of keeping Andrew with the leverage of a trinket to prevent troubles and a place he can't escape her outweighs any price she pays to the Entity. So long as the Entity doesn't separate Andrew from her Ashley will consider the Entity a pal. She gets what she wants and it get what it wants, win win!

...............this friendship might be shaken up depending on how Ashley reacts when Andrew's not there after waking up. I think the Entity might be able to spin it by insinuating Andrew's himself agreed to doing the "cooperating" to go back to the human realm and leave her, which would punt the blame onto Andrew. But it's going to be difficult threading the needle.

So why is the Entity, which as stated before prefers to conserve its energy and only take deals worthwhile, putting so much time and effort in Ashley? Let's explore what this evil little ball of yarn's end goal could be.

Main Course Ashley?

I'm just getting this one out of the way. One of the main predictions that seems to go around is the Entity wanting to eat Ashley's soul and is preparing her for that. While that would fit the whole cannibalism stuff and would match how the Entity treats its souls as free-range livestock, I just don't think this one's that likely.

For one it seems like the only souls the Entity wants to consume are Untainted souls. It calls both the Grime and Tar To-Be souls "useless" when it's given either to snack on. So instead of Tar Souls being the best to eat they might actually be the least edible.

And for two we have the interactions between Ashley and the Entity in Shots & Such. Ashley in her panic told it to stop Andrew from attacking in exchange for "anything." We've seen how this usually works out with the very first summoning in Episode 1.

Offering the demon "anything" gives it free reign to take whatever it wants with no restrictions. Usually that leads to it just flat-out taking the person's soul. But when offered "anything" from Ashley the Entity instead makes her it's eternal servant.

Forever being the key word here. Whatever it's planning for Ashley, it requires her being alive. Or at leave with her soul intact.

As a bonus there's also the terms it set with Andrew before he left.

Clearly the Entity never intended for Andrew to find all five wandering souls and return, but it still agreed to Ashley being in the realm, safe and sound. If it was planning on snacking it wouldn't have agreed to the terms easily.

But "safe and sound" doesn't have to mean "untouched and unchanged" which leads us to...

Ashley Joining the Demon Club?

The other popular theory and the one I agree with most is that the Entity wants Ashley to become a demon.

In Cliffhanger it made a point of explaining its reasoning for choosing which summons to pursue, and lets Ashley sift through the summons herself. It very much felt like it was teaching Ashley how to take souls as a demon would.

During the vision in Episode 2 Ashley said a soul looked cute and the Entity was like "you mean tasty?" It really felt like it was suggesting something to Ashley when it said that, though it could be that as a demon it didn't understand what "cute" meant. Either way I think it wants Ashley to snack on some souls, which is why he's gathering so many. She's a growing demon to-be she needs the nutrients.

To become an Entity probably requires a lot of souls, but depending on the method it might somehow have to involve another Entity spending energy. After all according to the Entity in order for humans to enter the demon world without dying they need to be summoned. Meaning when it was still a human another being had to have summoned it there.

There's also the chance that Ashley's being affected by just interacting with the demon, using the trinket, and/or being in the demon realm and realm in-between and vice versa. In the first troubles ahead vision there's only the red eyes surrounding it.

But then every vision after recharging the trinket includes eyes colored similar to hers.

HMMMMMM......

So yeah my bet is on Ashley becoming a demon. The real question to me is the why. Why does the Entity want another Entity? Here's the options I'm putting down before I mercifully let you go.

Powerful Ally - It might not want to eat Ashley, but there may be a benefit to having a powerful being under your wing. I think this is actually the baseline possibility with Shots in mind, since in that route it plans on keeping Ashley as a servant after she Ascends. I'm also just guessing that newly formed Entities are a lot stronger than veteran Entities like the yarn ball, since they haven't spent any of their energy yet. (Would piss off Andrew because its supposed to be just him and her like they promised. The demon is NOT INVITED!)

Inheritance - There's also the chance it wants to "raise" Ashley to inherit its realm. Perhaps there's a cycle of Entities in the Demon Realm who pass on their demon genes before running out of energy. Because yeah, demon is smol which indicates its used up a lot of its energy already, and while it could consume the many souls in the playground its choosing to only partake for visions and travel fees. Who knows, maybe when Ashley ascends she'll eat the yarn ball, thus completing the inheritance. (The idea of someone else "raising" Ashley would piss off Andrew to no end because she's his problem and no anyone else's)

Fusing - Another interesting idea is if entities can fuse together like cells. That way Ashley's still technically unharmed and uneaten but the Entity combines with her and would be able to siphon her power. Think angler fish, where the tiny male permanently latches onto the much larger female and acts as a parasite stealing nutrients. And in the Shots scenario the Entity would probably have most control of the "body" as Ashley's already its servant (I can't even begin to describe how pissed Andrew would be with this one even without servitude involved like not to curse but my god-)

Loneliness? - Okay like Ashley casually suggests maybe the demon just wants friends in reaction to Andrew's suspicion and its very clear we're supposed to roll our eyes at this like Andrew does...but wouldn't it be funny if she was right? The little yarn ball, alone with it's toy car that no longer moves, plants that it cares for, souls it lets roam around and play instead of consuming...it might state its doing what it does for convenience and utility, but it might also be for something it can't quite remember. That once human need for companionship. It could be like Ashley, someone who on the surface is plain evil, but beneath that is someone just desperate to not be alone...................................Nah probably not. I am interested in seeing a scenario where the yarn ball wants to be what Andrew is to Ashley, or to even be taken care of the way Andrew cares for Ashley, but I fully expect the author to ruthlessly pour cold water over this idea next episode. (...but I mean if it DOES somehow turn out to be true you know how Andrew's going to react already don't you?)

Now I'm leaving out the predictions to what the demon's plans could be that involve Andrew, since in most of Decay Andrew is seen as a nuisance at best and a direct danger to Ashley at worst. The only time the demon seems interested in Andrew is in the Leyley Wins ending, when he becomes harmless to Ashley and is unable to interfere with whatever it wants to do. I'll talk about what the demon could want with Andrew involved in a another post (I've been saying that a lot huh.) Until then, toodles!

#tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal decay #tcoaal spoilers #tcoaal predictions

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p-artsypants · 3 days ago

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She listened intently as he revealed that things weren’t so hopeless as she thought. She hung on every word, an excited warmth spreading through her chest.

She could love him. It was okay. They’d make it work somehow. She didn’t need to reprimand herself when she started thinking about how sweet and handsome he was. She could just let things develop.

“You—?” She looked up at the moon, gauging where it was in it’s cycle. “The full moon is only a few days away. Maybe two? You’d…you’d really have legs? That would be…absolutely amazing.”

And then he continued, elaborating on the permanent solution. That seemed a little more grim. “Wait, your father—is he some kind of wizard or something? And…you told him you were looking at shipwrecks? He has no idea you came here.”

She had to imagine whatever conversation would come up would be pretty bad. ‘Oh hey dad, yeah, I was actually hanging out with a Viking girl, and now we want to elope. Can I have legs?’

Yeah, that certainly wouldn’t go over well.

She leaned close. “I’m not offended you noticed me. Quite the opposite! I’m so happy you liked me, even before we spoke. I’m really happy we met.”

She licked her lips, tilted her head as he came closer. Those eyes were just so enchanting, she felt like they were pulling her closer.

“Whatever I can have, I’ll take. If I have to build a house by the sea and only get to be with you one day a month, I’ll take it.” She turned her hand in his grip, so that she could hold him back. “I know I haven’t known you long, but I feel like you understand me better than anyone else I’ve ever met. It’s a really wonderful feeling. Thank you, Hiccup.”

And then he kissed her and she wondered if she was dreaming. Surely something so gentle and innocent wasn’t supposed to feel this good. Their first kiss was playful, a bit forceful, and sudden. But this one was so sweet, she thought she might cry.

Now that the word ‘love’ was attached to it, it felt more…more. Not heavy, but monumental.

She stayed still a moment after he pulled away, just basking in the sensation. “Definitely lucky,” she murmured.

She grinned. “I feel the same. I feel like my dad is already going to be teasing us about how close we are.” Then she snorted. “And I have a feeling my dad’s not going to be too thrilled that I spent the night with a stranger in the woods once he’s sober…but I can’t really find it in my heart to care at the moment.”

She wanted to lay beside him and cuddle, but didn’t want to get her only pair of leggings wet. Instead, she scooted forward so he could lay back against her, using her as a backrest. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders loosely and pressed her nose into his hair.

Yeah, this was good.

After a long training session, all Astrid wanted to do was cool off on the beach. Maybe a tiny swim, even though the ocean was so cold at this time of year. She pushed through the brush and staggered down to the shore.

Only to find a boy lounging in the shallows.

“Oh!” She dropped her axe in the sand. From his bare torso, she assumed he was naked. “Sorry! I didn’t know someone else would be…here…” as the apologies flowed, she realized from the waist down, he had green scales and a pair of fins.

No wonder she hadn’t recognized him.

“No way…” she inched closer. “A real mermaid! In the flesh! Are the stories true?” She stamped down her overwhelming curiosity for a moment to give him a stern point. “Don’t try anything fishy, mermaid. I’m very capable of protecting myself, got it?”

((I saw the prompt and went feral, hope you don’t mind))

[X]

Hiccup started, the water around him splashing as he sat up straight in surprise, before he moved a little further back, his cheeks flushed.

"No, sorry, I, I shouldn't--" Ducking his head, the merman awkwardly held up a hand, "Usually no one comes here..."

But his movements only caused his tail to briefly break the surface, emerald scales glittering in the sun for a moment before dipping below the water again.

Firmly, he responded, "Merman. I am a merman. And no, don't worry, I, I wasn't going to try anything...I know you'd probably kill me if I did..."

Clearing his throat, he ran a hand through his hair, which had partially dried in his time sitting in the shallow water. "What, what stories are you referring to?"

He knew, or at least had a gut feeling about what she was asking, but he wanted to hear it from her. She appeared wary, but not fearful. Maybe these humans didn't have the same fears of his kind like the others?

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glitteringdust · 18 hours ago

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The way Anders eyes Hawke up and down between each hand of Wicked Grace makes his blood boil.

Glowering across the table, he hated every second of it, in fact— it was clear to him and anyone else watching just what the mage's intentions were, and the more he drank the less subtle about it he was. Fenris wanted to scruff the mage by his collar and tell him to keep his hands to himself.

He would even say as much, if it weren't for the fact that he didn't have any more of a claim to Hawke than Anders did, perhaps even less so since he was the one to flee that night they'd spent together. Hawke's gaze had softened when he saw the red favor wrapped around Fenris's wrist the following day, but had never said anything more about that night, giving Fenris more kindness and space than he deserved.

There were things hidden behind that softness, though. Hurt and confusion and pain— Fenris had caused that, too. He had done very little to explain, fear from his past heavy hands around his throat. It had been too much, too fast, he had said. And it was, when you added missing memories, and reminders of the worst time of your life.

So why had he thought of nothing but that night everyday for years? Every touch that had left him shivering and wanting, soft and gentle against his skin, each kiss sweeter than honey. Over and over he found his thoughts wandering back to that night, of Hawke, of his taste…

Hawke's booming laugh snaps him out of his thoughts, and Fenris stiffens as he watches Anders places his hand on Hawke's shoulder, rubs his thumb back and forth. Caressing. Fenris grits his teeth; it's not his place, after all, to decide whom Hawke spends his time with. Who should touch him, make him laugh… he should pursue the mage if it makes him happy. All Fenris had done was break his heart, and only continued to do so.

He swallows back vitriol. One more second in the Hanged Man just might kill him.

He leaves early, sneaking away when no one was looking. Fresh air will clear his mind, he thinks, and makes his way through the shadows of Lowtown. He hopes to shake off the discontent clinging to his limbs, or at least walk until he's numb enough to forget about the whole thing.

Varric's words still ring in his head.

Sounds like you're jealous, Broody. That tends to happen when you love someone.

That's not… what this is.

Really, you're not at all jealous?

Varric had meant to reassure him, yet it sat bitterly along his tongue. He was no stranger to jealousy; he had a long history of coveting the lives of those who were free, of those who could have desires of their own. He was not used to this form of it, the kind grown from wanting someone instead of something.

Because who would love someone like him? Bound even now by the chains of the past, to a master he would see dead if he wasn't a coward. Resentful, wary, hiding behind anything he could. And Hawke was…

Hawke was kind. Had been since the moment they met, even with the initial deception. He'd shown that same kindness time and time again to others around him, the same people who would turn him into the Templars if they had to. He gave coin to the needy, food to the orphans of Darktown, and accepted nothing in return.

The more he watched Hawke, the harder he fell for him. A feeling he'd much rather avoid, instead of dealing with.

It was no surprise Fenris found himself taking the long way home, avoiding the main square and a certain mansion. He didn't mind Hightown late at night, when the nobles were long asleep and he felt no need to hide from their gaze. Not to mention it meant fewer questions about why an elf was living there.

He turns the corner and nearly jumps out of his skin. Hawke had somehow beaten him here, sitting outside the doorway to his home.

"Hawke? What are you…?"

“You left early,” Hawke stands, looking sheepish, “I suppose I… worried about you getting home.”

"I don't usually have trouble finding my way, you know."

"I know, it's just…" Hawke sighs, "You seemed upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Fenris says nothing, unsure of what to even say. He was upset, but only at himself. He wasn't okay but he wasn't sure he'd ever be.

He settles for pointing out the obvious, “You looked happy, with him. You deserve to be happy.”

Hawke only gives him a quizzical look, “With who… oh with Anders? He and I are just friends, Fenris.”

“Doesn’t seem like he knows that.”

“He may want more, but he’s not who I want.” Hawke hesitates only for a moment before reaching for the elf’s hand.

“Ah,” Fenris doesn’t meet his gaze, instead looking at the hand holding his. The grip is light, Fenris could easily pull away should he want to, and yet the warmth that spreads through him keeps him there, “I can’t imagine why, even now, you'd still...” Choose me.

“I meant it, when I said I would wait for you.”

A pang in his chest. He didn’t deserve this.

"You're worth everything to me, Fenris. I just want you to know that I won't give up on you. You deserve happiness. In whatever form you find that in." He goes to release the elf's hand, "Even if it's not with me."

Fenris meets Hawke's honey brown gaze and the night they shared pops into his head again, breaking him. He leans in and kisses him; once, twice, a third time before he pulls back. It felt just as good as he remembered, a soft buzzing in the back of his mind as he steps back.

“I… hope I'm worth the wait.”

Hawke chuckles, the sound more soothing to Fenris than anything else.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Hawke asks.

Fenris nods, “If you have need of me.”

Hawke squeezes his hand before he turns to leave, “Sleep well, Fenris.”

Fenris heads inside, trying his best not to think about turning around and calling for Hawke to stay, of what they would do if he did.

Instead, he goes to bed, the feeling of Hawke's lips on his following straight into his dreams.

#this has been in my drafts FOREVER so I’m done with it finally #dragon age 2 #fenhawke #hawris #fenris x hawke #fenhawke fanfic #fenhawke fanfiction #my writing #Fenris #da2 #fenris da2 #hawke x fenris

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velvetvexations · 1 day ago

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you're like "Israel is committing a genocide and it's very founding was a historical tragedy on par with the settlement of the Americas, but I have a lot of trouble with supporting the killing a lot of innocent people in response"

and they're like "well you HAVE to do all that there's no other CHOICE"

and you're like "so I guess you support the bombing of Japan"

and they're like "ah ha! Hiroshima and Nagasaki weren't necessary at all!"

and you're like "no I mean the fire bombing of Tokyo, which actually did target valid war industry targets and even came with leaflets warning civilians to evacuate but still killed way more people than the atom bombs"

and they're like "well America didn't do that to stop genocide"

and you're like "Japan attacked America specifically because they knew we would continue to interfere with their takeover of Asia"

and they're like "well that was in America's interests, they didn't actually CARE about Asians"

and you're like "yeah? and what was the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact? the Soviet Union altruistically sharing the conquest of Eastern Europe with the Nazis out of brotherly generosity?"

and they're like "fuck you you're just a Zionist"

and you're like "no, I've despised Israel since long before you ever heard of it and if you gave me a world map to hang on the wall and some darts I'd have a new hobby, I just think that the primary faction directly fighting them at this point in time are not even slightly competent at the task let alone morally superior, which is something you should be able to understand if you take a hardline view about America vs. the Nazis and Imperial Japanese, because that's your position, isn't it? the Nazis and Imperial Japan were bad, committing genocide, but America and England were still evil too, yes? they shouldn't be credited with anything? the bombings and the hypocritical colonialism and domestic racism and everything else was all bad even though their actions served to stop multiple genocides?"

and then they block you

#i/p #tankies #discourse #cw eastern imperialism #cw western imperialism

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tozieresk · 3 days ago

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𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⤑ the test, chapter two

read chapter one here

» They make their way out of Eddie’s living room into the cool night air, where the headlights of Steve’s Beemer shine brightly onto their faces. Steve himself is leaning against the door of the drivers seat.

“Damn Harrington, you always stand like that or is this some kinda mating display?” Eddie thanks whichever God is up there for blessing him with his loose-lips.

The next time Eddie sees Steve, it’s outside of his own trailer after a Hellfire session.

While the others continued Hellfire at school after Eddie graduated, with Will Byers taking his title as the new Dungeon Master, the kids decided to make time for him every two weeks to continue playing his campaigns. They say it’s because they like Eddie’s storytelling, but Eddie thinks it’s a load of bullshit and they actually just pity him for not having any friends his own age.

Dustin tells him before they even start that Steve would be the one to pick him up today because his mom is having wine evening with her “girls”, as she likes to call them. After everything went down with Vecna, she no longer wanted Dustin to ride around outside on his bike after dark. While he usually thinks his mom might be the only sensible parent of the kids, other than Joyce, of course, today he curses her out for it. Eddie is doing a horrible job of pretending that he’s not a nervous wreck. Throughout the entire session he can’t seem to get a hold on himself. He keeps stuttering, getting their characters confused, and jumping back and fourth in the story. It gets so bad that even Will, who’s usually the more kind and soft-spoken member of the party, asks him if he’s on drugs.

And Eddie feels terrible about it, he really does. They could be out enjoying their summer, going swimming and doing whatever else teenagers their age do. Instead they waste away in Eddie’s too hot trailer and trying to piece together his nonsensical ramblings. He can’t even put on a good enough show for them, despite the fact that they’re doing him a favor by entertaining his will to keep playing a game that he’s probably grown out of.

But Eddie can’t focus with the looming threat of Steve’s arrival hanging over his head. Because without the liquid courage he drank himself into at Steve’s party the previous weekend, he woke up ashamed and guilty and with the worst hangxiety he has ever felt in his life. The realization that flirting with the guy who you have a massive boner for might not be the easiest goal one can strive for hit him a little too late.

He isn’t a quitter, though. If he survived going through senior year three times then this should be a piece of cake. That’s at least what he’s telling himself while trying to lead the party through an abandoned village, infested with rabid house cats. Eddie thinks it’s a good metaphor for his life. He’s a rabid house cat.

By the end of the session, for the first time since he started DM’ing, he can feel that the members of the party are glad that it’s over.

“What the hell is up with you today, dude? I’ve never seen you act like this before.” Eddie suddenly remembers why Mike is his least favorite of the kids.

“Just a bad day, Wheeler. I promise next time I’ll be back to my regular charming self.” He puts on his best grin and tilts his head towards the boy, trying to hide his nerves. Dustin already looks at him suspiciously. Sometimes he thinks the kid is too perceptive for his own good, though he never seems to figure out the important stuff.

They all turn their heads as they hear a loud honking noise outside. Steve Harrington can be described with many words, but patient certainly is not one of them. Eddie suddenly remembers that he spent the entirety of the three hour session trying to figure out what to say when he arrives, and that he came up completely blank. His hands start sweating again.

They make their way out of Eddie’s living room into the cool night air, where the headlights of Steve’s Beemer shine brightly onto their faces. Steve himself is leaning against the door of the drivers seat.

“Damn Harrington, you always stand like that or is this some kinda mating display?” Eddie thanks whichever God is up there for blessing him with his loose-lips.

He can hear the kids snickering beside him, but all Eddie can concentrate on is the pretty flush of Steve’s cheeks that he can spot before Steve shakes himself out of it. “Do you ever shut up?,” he shoots back.

Dustin starts packing his bag in the trunk of Steve’s car while the others start grabbing their bikes. “Sadly, my mouth seems to be unable to fully close around pretty boys like you.” He says it quietly enough so that the boys won’t hear him, too absorbed in their own chatter.

Steve doesn’t seem shocked at his antics anymore, just annoyed. His eyebrows have shot up a bit higher towards his hairline. Maybe this whole test won’t last as long as Eddie thought it would. Steve seems closer to snapping than he’d expected.

“You’re such a freak, man.” Usually the sentence would sting, but Steve doesn’t say it with any malice. Slightly irritated, at most. “That’s what I’m known for.” He smirks.

“Seriously, dude, if you’re trying to get under my skin, you’re not doing a very good job." His voice is sharp now, but there’s a hint of shy defensiveness in it. "Just… cut it out already, alright?"

Eddie has the decency to feel a stab of guilt at that. He didn’t want to make Steve feel like he’s making fun of him. If there’s a clown between them, it’d be Eddie. He has no doubts about that.

“I’m not trying to mess with you, Stevie. Just sharing what’s been on my mind. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, ‘mkay?”

He can see Steve hesitating, but he eventually just nods, gives him a tight lipped smile, and climbs into the drivers seat. Eddie watches as the kids try to keep up with the speed of his car on their bikes.

“He told me to cut it out! To stop messing with him! Is that not enough of a result to you guys?! He acknowledged my flirting and shot it down. There you have it!” Eddie is hanging out in Gareth’s garage after band practice. The Hideout was torn down by the “earthquake”, but him and the other members decided to keep playing until they could find a new gig. Surprisingly, not many bars in bumfuck, Indiana are looking for a metal band, so they haven’t had any luck yet.

“Nah man, he didn’t even acknowledge that you’re, like, gay. He just thinks you’re making fun of him. That’s not a successful mission.” Gareth is trying to pack together everyone’s instruments. He can’t deal with messes and if something needs to be put away, he has to do it immediately. Too bad he picked the laziest people in all of Hawkins as his band mates.

“No, nuh-uh, he told me to stop and did it in a respectful way! That was the entire point of this! Steve Harrington is a good guy, tell the presses! There’s no reason for me to continue.” Eddie gestures wildly around him, much too frantic to pass as casual.

Eddie is pretty sure they’d lay off him if he just told him that he’s harboring a crush on the guy, but he feels a little embarrassed. Crushing on the jock of all jocks after praising for years that they’re the bottom of the barrel of humanity isn’t something he’s ready to admit yet. He’s sure his friends would have a field day making fun of him, too. Especially after he loudly announced to them that he’s done crushing on straight guys just a few months ago.

“That sounded respectful to you? It sounded more like a threat. Like, ‘Hey man, stop being a fairy in front of me before I punch your lights out’.” Jeff deepened his voice for what was probably supposed to be his best Harrington impression, but had a mouth full of chips and accidentally spit some of it onto Eddie’s arm, which he wipes away with a look of disgust.

“First of all, gross. Second of all, if he wanted to punch me for acting gay, he would’ve done it already. I did everything short of dropping to my knees and sucking his dick.” He might be lying about that, but he does think his flirting has been obvious enough.

“No, we need him to, like, talk about it directly. Otherwise we won’t know if you’re on the same page. You’re not getting the 100 bucks that easy.” Gareth says as he’s dropping down next to where Jeff is sprawled out on his couch. “Just pull out the big guns! I’ve seen you flirt with a thousand people just to piss them off!”

“They were never active parts of my life, though. This is just uncomfortable for the both of us.” Eddie drops his head into his hands. Steve and him only saw each other in passing; during parties or pick-ups or when he occasionally got so bored that he decided to annoy him and Robin at Family Video. But Eddie learned that the survivors of the upside down are somewhat of a close-knit group that are unavoidable as long as you stay in Hawkins. Even the members that don’t particularly like each other seem to have an unspoken bond. And Eddie likes having a group of people out there that get it. That won’t judge him for jumping at every flickering light. That he won’t have to explain his nightmares to because he already knows that they understand it; that they have them, too.

And he’s not in favor of ruining this for him. But he’s been in this group for a lot less time than Steve has. And if Steve decides to tell everyone that Eddie is a weirdo who won’t respect his boundaries, Eddie knows which side they’ll take. It doesn’t matter whether they have a problem with his sexuality or not.

“Hey, man, we’re not forcing you to do this. You can back out at any time you want.” It sounds condescending, but Eddie can hear the concern laced in his voice. He sees him look at him with furrowed eyebrows through the sides of his fingers. He takes a while to think it over.

“Fuck, no, I’ll keep doing it. I guess I’m already kinda in it now.” He sits up straight again, but the two boys won’t stop silently looking at him.

Eddie kinda likes flirting with Steve, as nervous as it makes him. Revels in the way his cheeks flush and his voice cracks, as if he’s not used to being teased. And as long as Steve doesn’t outright say that it makes him uncomfortable, there’s really no harm in it, is there? Maybe Steve likes the attention. He did get the impression that Steve only told him to stop because he thought Eddie was making fun of him. And that’s kinda sad, isn’t it? That Steve thinks someone would have to make fun of him in order to flirt with him. Eddie knows he’s been striking out more often than not since graduating. Eddie can boost his confidence back up. Sure, he’s a man, and certainly not Steve’s type, but at least he can show him that he’s still desirable.

Eddie decides that he needs to get a bit more serious about this. Speed up the rejection process, and show Steve that he’s not just making a joke out of it. He tells the others as much. They raise their eyebrows, but otherwise remain silent.

On the drive back home, Eddie maps out a plan on how to woo Steve Harrington. While doing so, he tries to diminish the horrible, flesh-eating hope that makes his way into his stomach and travels up to his throat, burning like acid.

chapter three is available on ao3!!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

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wherevenusholdssomeofficespace · 2 days ago

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While Linda is usually distinct from Danville weirdness, it's not like Linda has never been hit by an inator in fact… it's not like Linda's never been the victim of world ending shenanigans. But for HER to be the one the siblings have to rescue is a direction they've never gone before. (Or rather her specifically, see Phineas and Ferb effect, NOTLP). It IS unusual to see Phineas and Ferb seem genuinely upset; usually that's reserved for things like… Klimpaloon. Or Isabella. While the kids often talk a lot about how much they love their mom, focusing several of their inventions on her specifically, but the combination of "rescue mission" and "Big Idea for Mom" is a new combo.

What I'm hoping for from this is a bit more insight on what the kids love about her. While we definitely see a lot of the things that Linda does for the kids, and we see the kids talk about how much they appreciate her, I'd love to get some more specific insights, particularly on Linda's relationship with the boys as we don't see them hang out as much as Linda and Candace do. I'm not asking for a lot here, maybe just a CATU-mug-like scene where we get a few flashbacks of some interaction. Candace wrote a whole song about why she loves her mom, so I just want more of that.

Especially since the first episode segment highlighted how Linda feels about her kids growing up and lamenting not spending enough time with them. I'd love to see the kids perspective as well. I mean she's their mom. I want to see them think of her hugs and her jokes and all the little mom things she does for them.

Though PnF isn't the type of show to dive too hard into this kind of stuff, and Candace needs to continue busting for the story to work, but she IS the kind of person who would feel guilty for something like this happening even though it isn't even remotely her fault (she knew her mom wasn't destined to see the stuff but she kept pushing it).

Despite her otherwise being a sometimes impulsive and irresponsible teenager, Candace is nearing adulthood and thus Candace and her mom tend to be on more even footing. As much as Linda and Candace are often at odds, Linda does generally trust Candace to be responsible enough to watch her brothers for extended periods of time, and the two do seem to like to spend time clothes shopping and going to the salon and doing similar activities together. But also Linda is pretty much Candace's role model, or at least one of the people whose opinion matters most to her. And Candace has repeatedly been shown to have no issues confiding in her mom about things like boys.

In short: Candace is an anxious wreck of a girl on the precipice of adulthood dealing with near supernatural shenanigans whose mother ("normal" adult woman) is her emotional anchor. Her mother disappearing right in front of her is not good for her emotional state either way.

"When I'm bouncing off the walls you're the one who stays calm"

Conversely Phineas and Ferb also are just kids whose relationship with their mom is a little more one sided... she sees them as children... good responsible kids, but children nevertheless. Conversely while Linda is Candace's role model, the boys role models include people like Santa. This isn't to say that they DON'T adore and depend on their mom (they just assume she'll be able to solve the Gordian Knot) their relationship is just a bit less complex than Linda and Candace's (not a low bar mind you). The boys are ultimately just kids who we know feel deeply and can (though not always it depends on the tone of a given episode) react dramatically when the people they care about (Perry in AT2D for example, Phineas with Isabella in NOTLP) are in trouble. Of course seeing their mom disappear isn't great for them either, they've just got a bit more optimism and technical know how to fall back on then Candace. It's always fun to see the lengths these boys will go to for the people they love, especially since they have the means of going pretty damn far.

Linda is a central character of the show, but for the premise of the show to work she has to remain outside of the shenanigans, so can't meaningfully engage with the kids (especially the boys) a lot of the time. While Linda still won't be an active participant in this storyline... probably... she's already expressed her stance on the subject (she wants to spend time with her kids) so her character is still being highlighted. I think Linda is one of the most underappreciated characters in the show so I'm happy to see anything with more Linda focus. The A-plot literally revolves around her just as much as it does Candace. Without her there's no show, so it's good to see that acknowledged on some level.

Though, I have a feeling it's just going to be standard rescue mission stuff, I feel it's pretty likely we'll get to end on the entire family spending some time together which is always a treat. (Well, taking the picture obviously but still). I'm hoping the rest of the episode lives up to the lofty expectations that cliffhanger set.

#pnf #phineas and ferb #on a day she was feeling particularly nostalgic and wanted to spend time with them #also the way all the backyard gang banded together for Candace #and now Them banding together to help with Linda #actually what DOES Linda think of the Pistachion incident?#pnf spoilers #like actually this time #phineas and ferb spoilers #phineas and ferb adore candace and they love their mom

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ofeliaxoxo · 21 hours ago

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Carlos… having that Leo patch on his backpack is a little bit insane of him <3. Ugh can’t help but feel like Carlos is doing a lot of the initiation with Charles which makes me happy sad. They drive me insane. Who knew we were gonna be given so many Charlos crumbs during their post teammate era.

There truly has to be a logical explanation because why the Hell would he have a backpack with a Leo patch this is Insane Carlos do you hear me Insane. Like are we sure. Because this seems too fanfic. Charles is marking his territory with his merch slapping little branding signs on all Carlos’s belongings and clothes like this is MINE property of CHARLES LECLERC thanks. The way every week they sprinkle some crumbs for us like here we will stand together here I will say he’s one of the realest bitches out there here I will run after him here we will walk with our sides touching from shoulder to ankle. And of course I’m wearing his stuff in public:) they said ok FINE nothings tying us specifically together so we will DO IT OURSELVES then. Quickly tying a red string of fate they got on temu like we’re destined to fucking be together!! And everyone’s like please put down the glue and scissors you are not professionally affiliated. Carlos like well maybe I could…manifest him into being my …..teammate yeah my teammate that seems about right.

I think with initiation etc I understand the feeling but also I don’t ultimately think it probably is like that irl. we also have on video Charles being like ohhh let’s hang out for a weekend! And Carlos being like um gay no let’s do an hour. We also have a clip this year of Charles literally jogging off the drivers parade to continue their conversation. So any one clip will serve a different narrative. So I dont think that it’s a thing of Carlos “chasing” Charles. (Disclaimer that maybe it legit is and no one has to listen to me for anything I don’t knowww I’m playing pretend and most of what I think is based exclusively on my own perceptions). Because as well let’s say Carlos likes to bound over and pick Charles up and kiss him on the mouth etc etc but ALSO Charles is fully like ok yay you’re bounding over and NOW you’re gonna pick me up and kiss me on the mouth:) FURTHERMORE he will literally lean into it for easier Carlos manhandling access. He doesn’t Manhandle but he also kind of purposefully Is Manhandled. Carlos reaches out and then he fits himself under the arm. I have a lot of thoughts about this actually. Carlos Touches and then Charles Is Touched. For my fics I like to run with that as, Charles absolutely craves that physical connection but there is a total plausible deniability there, he can claim passivity even tho in fact he has a specific role in this physical dynamic.

And then funnily enough the occasions where Charles is the one pushing it, end up being the most sensual of all, like the Monaco and Abu Dhabi hugs last year. Which is a fun little note to me. This guy is absolutely always grabbing me OKAY imma grab him back oh fuck it instantly became insanely homoerotic we’re practically making out I just wanted to show my friendship hmm Right maybe I should just leave it to him.

#ask #charlos

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somuchforahobby · 2 days ago

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interrupted (part 7)

Summary: you get caught, sort of, a little bit (sorry not sorry!) this happens immediately after part 6 Warnings: anakin’s terrible timing; that’s it that’s the warning Word count: 1.5 k Read on AO3 Did I say I was taking a break? Like being absolutely deranged over this is something I can control???!!!

“Raise your hand a little more,” you said to the padawan, then continued checking their forms with a smile. “Bend your knees to create more stability,” your hand pointed at another child’s legs.

You wandered the room, examining their movements closely when you heard your name called. You turned to find Master Windu with a frown.

“I wanted to see you this morning,” he guided you away from the children to the entrance of the room.

“How could I be of service, Master?”

Your relationship with your former master had been respectful and clearly hierarchical. Even after you were knighted, you still answered to him as if you were still a padawan.

“I have a question,” he began in his usual grim tone. “Why did Skywalker call your name last night in the Master’s wing?”

You tried to hide your embarrassment with a smile. “Did he?”

His dark eyes examined you with expertise. “Yes, he did. And I would like to know why.”

“Well, I did tutor the kid while Obi-Wan was away. Maybe he called for me during one of his nightmares?”

“He was awake,” his Force signature brushed yours in search of any distress; you maintained a fortress. “Giggling, actually.”

That smile you couldn’t hide. “Well, I couldn’t hear him. I was asleep in my rooms.”

“And of course, Aayla was going to confirm that information.” Windu scoffed. “I don’t like how this is looking. If you’re sleeping around to reach the Council—”

You didn’t let him finish that sentence. “Excuse me?”

He raised both hands in a dismissive apology. “I’m merely saying I’ll nominate you to the Council when the time is right. Do not search for it elsewhere. Is it Quinlan?”

You bursted out laughing. “What?”

“I never liked you hanging with them—”

“Them?”

“Quin and Aayla. They’re undisciplined, sloppy; they prioritize their personal well-being above the Order’s rules. So I wouldn’t put it past Quin to have an affair with a fellow knight.” You saw Windu’s eyebrows crease with concern. “And I also wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“What does that have to do with Anakin giggling my name?” you asked before thinking straight.

“I figured he saw you while walking to his master’s room.” He shrugged. “Speaking of!” Your master’s demeanor changed instantly. As if your situation couldn’t get any better, Obi-Wan walked by with a smile.

“Master Windu,” he bowed his head to him and repeated the gesture to you.

“This is the kind of company I’d like you to keep.” Your master laid a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Master Kenobi is one focused and responsible Jedi. Despite his young age, I’m certain there are many things you can learn from him and become a valuable ally for him.”

Obi-Wan nodded in gratitude. “Please, Master, be certain that it will always be my pleasure to join your former padawan in whatever activities she may require me.” His silver tongue earned him a smirk from you.

“Understood, Master. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my class.” You turned your back on them, but a strong hand stopped you on your tracks.

“Master Kenobi, would you please join my padawan in her class? I’m sure she can learn much from your discipline.” Master Windu sank the knife deeper.

As amusing as it was, it still hurt you that your former master didn’t trust you.

“I’d be honored.” Obi-Wan smiled.

You sighed as you both walked into the classroom, Master Windu stayed behind, leaning against the threshold.

“So… about your discipline,” Obi-Wan murmured with a smirk.

You bent to your knees to move one of your students' hands to perfect their defense.

“Don’t you dare,” you responded as you returned to his side.

He ignored your remark and continued, “I volunteer to extend our last night session to further explore and work on your discipline as well as your behavior.”

You faked a cough to hide your laughter. “Shut the fuck up,” you whispered with a blushed smile.

Obi-Wan raised both eyebrows, feigning offense. “Don’t speak like that to a master.”

Your eyes squinted. “You already know my answer to that.”

“Perhaps I’d like to hear it again.”

You leaned toward his shoulder, your lips almost gracing his ear. “Master my ass.”

Before he could say anything, you stood in front of your class, raising your voice. “Everyone, please put on your helmets and turn your simulators to level 1.” Your students all began moving as the simulators sent fake blaster shots at them. Your eyes wandered over their reactions.

“In order for me to do so, I’m afraid I’ll need a few more of our sessions,” his voice was warm in your ear.

“My apologies, Master. Apparently, I’m too busy sleeping with Quin.” You teased him, and oh, did it wake animalistic reactions in him.

He only allowed himself to show a raised eyebrow at you. “Pardon me?”

Your eyes were focused on your students. “Windu thinks I’m having an affair with Quin.”

The poor man next to you swallowed a lump in his throat. “And are you?”

Your gaze returned to him, though a bit offended, you decided to extend the ruse. “Oh yeah, I spent the most splendid night in his arms last night.”

He squinted, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Which is the only logical explanation for why Master Windu heard Anakin calling my name last night in the Master’s dorms, because I was leaving Quin’s quarters.”

His forehead relaxed in slow motion as his mouth shaped an O.

“That would be all for today, kids.” With a flick of your wrist, all the trainer simulators turned off and fell. “Relax and see you tomorrow.” You smiled at them before turning back to Obi-Wan.

“You definitely are impossible.”

“Of course.” You smirked. “That’s why only Quin can handle me.”

“Not for long.”

You turned over your shoulder to spot your Master lecturing Quinlan Voss, who was just entering the room to teach the class after you. Your six-year-old students were leaving, clearing the place for the ten-year-olds.

“Oh, fuck me,” you muttered.

“Over that exactly,” your companion muttered with a laugh.

You slapped his arm as you watched Quinlan walking over.

“How are you doing today?” Obi-Wan’s question came out tense.

Quinlan smirked in his regular relaxed demeanor. “Great, especially because I got laid last night, right?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

Both of you stood shocked to the bone, faces pale and silent.

“Oh, Maker!” Quin laughed hysterically as he seemed to have put two and two together. “Really?!!”

“Shut up, we are not about to make the announcement,” you hissed.

“Well, you better do it soon. I won’t be side-eyed for a fling I don’t have while the poster boy gets praised for his discipline hiding an affair.”

None of you answered. Instead, your eyes searched for Obi-Wan’s. His blue irises were as doubtful as yours.

“Don’t tell me it’s not an affair,” Quinlan’s tone was suddenly much less teasing.

Your gaze landed on his, a silent plea to keep it secret.

“I’ll be damned.” His tone, though serious, had a joyfulness that accompanied the glint in his eyes. An undeniable cheerfulness that could only come from the happiness of a loved one.

“We’ll figure it out.” Obi-Wan extended a hand to his friend, who shook it as a promise.

You and Obi-Wan moved to leave the room, planning your next steps on how to relieve Quin of the burden of your secret.

“Should we stop for a while?” you asked.

“No. We just have to find a way for Windu to stop thinking it’s Quin.”

“Move the spot to you, then?” You smirked.

“No!” Obi-Wan huffed. “Remove the spot altogether.”

You nodded. “But how?”

“We must be more discreet.” The last word was barely above a whisper as you spotted your Master in the hallway.

His face was stoic as always.

You were a good ten steps away from him when you spotted Anakin running your way with a smile, calling your name.

The acoustics of the place made his voice much more powerful, echoing through the entire hall.

“Ani!” You kneeled to embrace him.

“I didn’t see you in the morning. Where did you go?”

The stress in your body found its way out through laughter. Your face was crimson from embarrassment and the lack of air due to your laugh. You hid yourself in his little shoulder as Obi-Wan turned away from you, hands on the wall like he had just been arrested.

“Indeed,” Mace Windu’s voice echoed nearby, forcing you to raise your eyes. “Where did you go?” He was looking down on you with a raised eyebrow, then his piercing gaze moved to Kenobi.

Without another word, he walked in the opposite direction. The years of training and growing up with him told you he was disappointed, surprised, but not necessarily everything he was feeling was negative.

“What?” Anakin asked, confused.

Obi-wan muffled his hair, the kid turned to him, upset.

“Hey!” His brows knitted in anger.

“Go to your class” Obi-wan ordered with a smirk.

Once the kid was out of sight, you laughed again.

“Guess Quin can rest now” Obi-wan laughed before pulling you in and placing a kiss on your temple.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan star wars #obi wan

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