#the first one sounded better in russian i swear

[trashy-corvian]

The twins are not okay(I promise)

[queers-gambit]

Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

prompt: what happens when Tangerine's little lady is targeted in their home?

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 9.1k+

note: this got away from me. like wtf is this plot, Cherry?

warnings: author still runs with Tangerine's name being Aaron and Lemon's being Brian. inspired by GIF, established relationship, Russian Mafia vibes, physical violence / assault, blood, character injury, small angst, mostly hurt and comfort, Tan and Lem standing on business.

The skirt of the designer dress fanned around your thighs when you turned swiftly from the stovetop to a separate counter in order to collect the chopped vegetables. Light music filled the space between the sizzling of different dishes cooking, bare feet sticking to the linoleum floor of the kitchen.

"Right," your sweetheart, Aaron, announced as he jogged down the glass stairs while fixing his cuff link, entering the shared space, "know I hate t'do this, love, but I promise we won't be long."

You smirked, "Uh-huh, and where have I heard that before? Oh! That's right, when you - "

"Oi, oi, oi, you know I ain't mean to disappear in fuckin' Kyoto for 6 weeks, love," he repeated in exasperation, "please, stop holdin' that against me."

"I'm not," you sang in a singsong voice, dropping the vegetables to the stir fry you were preparing, "but you know, you say you won't be long, and then you disappear for random amounts of time."

"You know why," he sighed, buttoning his suit jacket as he closed the distance between you, "and you know it ain't my choice."

"Yeah, yeah, job first, girlfriend second."

"Not even close t'what my priorities are," he smirked, snatching your hand to twirl you around and tug you closer to face him. You grinned up at him, hands landing on his chest; letting his arms lock around you to keep you pressed against his impeccably sculpted body. "You look so beautiful tonight," he whispered, eyes flickering over you, "just love you in this dress. Could ravish you right here, right now."

"Yeah?" You cooed, "Recognize it?"

"Hm, feels rather expensive," he pet around your hips and waist, cheekily moving them around to grip both arse cheeks; causing you to gasp lightly, "thinkin' I must've gotten it for yah. Huh?"

"From Paris last month," you chuckled.

"Ah, yeah, I remember. Lemon was right hacked off we spent so much time shoppin', but no way was I gonna come home without something for yah." He sniffled and patted one hand in a gentle smack on your bottom, continuing, "Now, listen, sweetheart, I know tonight's real important to yah, so, I promise, Lemon and I will be back before the main course, yeah?"

You tisked, "Don't fucking call him that, you know I hate it."

"Apologies, lovely girl. Listen, I won't have my phone on, so, you need me, call Brian - "

"'If I need you'? See, now it's sounding like you're gonna disappear again, Aaron," you complained. "What the hell's this job anyway?"

"Nah, don't worry 'bout nothin'," he promised, "'cause we'll be back in time for your li'l dinner party."

"You know tonight's important for us - both of us!"

His eyes rolled, "Yes, yes, t'finally get your father's approval, right?"

"More like my whole family," you reminded with a roll of your eyes. "Goddamnit, I knew you weren't gonna take this seriously - "

"No, hey," he soothed, squeezing his hands to gently jostle you into silence, "tonight's very important to me, darlin'. I swear it, yeah? We'll be back in time, promise you."

"Good, you better."

"But in case, call Brian - "

"Aaron!"

He grinned, watching your own lips spread, "Jesus Christ, can't take a joke no more, can yah?"

"Maybe on less important days."

"Duly noted." The apartment's buzzer sounded, your boyfriend sighing, "Right, then. That'd be Lem - aht, ahem, Brian." He frowned, "Feel bad skippin' out on yah like this, but duty calls, baby."

"Mhm," you hummed, lifting on your toes to peck his lips. "Just be careful, please."

"I always am."

"You literally crashed a Bullet Train into an entire village - "

"Told yah, that was the Ladybug twat!"

"You also got shot! A centimeter to the side and you'd have bled out your fucking jugular."

"Again, the Ladybug twat."

"Potato, po-ta-toe."

Aaron chuckled, kissing you again, his mustache tickling your skin; groaning in annoyance when the buzzer sounded again - but for a prolonged time. "All right," he pulled back only to peck your lips again, "I'm off but I'll be back real soon. Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good without me?"

"I have to be," you teased, petting the lapels of his suit jacket and readjusting his tie. "Go, before you give your brother a fucking aneurism."

"Right," he chirped, pecking your forehead with a loud smooch. Swiftly, Aaron reached over to pluck a carrot from the wok, hissing from the heat, "oh, hot, hot, hot!" You swatted his bottom as he stepped away, eating the veggie, knowing you hated when he sampled your cooking while in the midst of actually cooking. "Mh! Tastes divine, sweetheart, maybe a bit more garlic. Love you!" He called over his shoulder, dropping a quick wink.

"Love you," you repeated, smiling; feeling lucky in love. You watched him go; his curls slicked back, classic navy blue suit on to make the crisp white button-up stand out, his shiny dress shoes winking at you. With a sigh, you focused again on prepping an admirable meal for the evening, planning on hosting both your divorced parents, their partners, and three older siblings.

Obviously, as the youngest kid, any and everyone you dated fell under heavy scrutiny.

The plan was to shmooze them into accepting Aaron as your lover, something your father and eldest brother were specifically vehemently against. But you weren't a little girl anymore, they couldn't dictate who you loved, but you could do your part to make your contract killer boyfriend more appealing to your kin. Easier said than done, but tonight was about at least trying.

So, you cooked a series of dishes to present on the grand dining table your boyfriend had furnished your apartment with, yet never utilized. Humming to the music, you hopped around the cooking space, and about an hour later, the apartment's buzzer was sounding in an obnoxious echo.

Dusting your hands off, you rushed to the comms system and pressed the big green button that unlocked the door building's front door. You left the door to your flat unlocked for easier access, rushing back to the kitchen to finish plating dinner. Not a minute later, the door opened and in walked your family; bottle of wine in your father's hand and a bouquet of flowers in your mother's.

Your father, Edward, had his newest wife on his arm; in the tallest heels you ever saw and a dress made of sequins, being far too short for this kind of event.

You mother, Linda, powered walked ahead of everyone with her boytoy of the month kept a close distance to the matriarch. He was probably just a few years older than you - but you were dating a contract killer agent, there was no room for judgement.

Your eldest brother, Robert, or better known as Bobby, entered with an aurora of arrogance; instantly looking around and judging your home unfairly. You sister, Mabel, just looked stony and stoic; completely bored of that night already. Lastly, your brother older by just a single year, Jonathan, or John, or John Boy, followed behind your siblings, wearing a thick gold chain against a classless wife beater.

"Oh, I'm so glad you made it!" You squealed, opening your arms and practically skipping close to greet your parents and their partners. "About time, don't you think?" You smiled at your father, hugging him first and kissing his cheek.

"Well... Guess better late than never," he begrudgingly agreed. "You remember my wife, Crystal?"

"Of course," you tried to politely smile and offered the fake-blonde a greeting kiss to her cheek, "lovely to see you again."

"Thanks for the invite," her tired voice drawled; indicating she'd rather be literally anywhere else.

"Mum," you moved along, hugging and kissing her cheek, too. "You're look fit."

"Thank you," she sighed.

Looking to her boyfriend, you greeted, "Thanks for coming, Keith - "

"It's Toby."

You blinked, "Huh?"

"Name's Toby," he explained.

"Right, right, Toby, my fault," you apologized, ignoring the look he sent your mother as you greeted Bobby, Mabel, and John Boy.

After, your father stiffly asked, "So? Where is he? This boyfriend you want us all t'like so much, huh? Not even out here to greet us?"

"Running an errand, but he and his brother will be back for dinner."

Bobby scoffed, "So, we do all this for him and he's not even home? Wow... Real stand-up guy, innit he?"

"You're also here to see me, aren't you?"

"We see enough of you, we're here for your dumbass boyfriend you're so enamored with that you missed Christmas last year."

"Bobby," you warned, taking your mother's flowers and heading back into the open-concept kitchen to locate a vase and fill it with water. "You're gonna play nice tonight or I'm gonna be really pissed," you warned your family, "and I'll cancel the New Years trip."

"Woah, hang on," your sister, Mabel, interjected, "let's not be hasty, the night's only just beginning - no need for threats."

"I know," you smirked at her, "it's called incentive."

"Truly your father's daughter," you mother scoffed and rolled her eyes. Edward just mocked her and handed over the wine bottle; making your mother snip, "No drinks to offer us? Not a very diligent hostess, are you, darling?"

Her sickly sweet tone gave you a cavity, but this was simply how your mother behaved when around her ex-husband - all passive aggressive and holier than thou.

You pointed, "There's an entire cart behind you, there. Help yourself."

"Hm," she hummed, nodding, turning to make herself a hefty bourbon with Toby right behind her.

"Um," Crystal hummed, "do you have seltzers?"

You almost laughed but managed not to, "No, no, just win and whatever liquor's on the cart."

"It's a nice place you've got, love, if not overly expensive," Linda cut off anything Crystal might've said; complimenting you stiffly, looking around as the amber liquid was poured, "bit empty, though, innit? I don't see one single family photo, not a personable damn thing."

"Oh, well, Aaron and I just like the minimalistic aesthetic," you deflected; the truth being, Aaron was constantly on the move for his job, there was no real time or reason to decorate the flat. You began transporting the large dishes on the kitchen counters to the table, your other brother, John, springing into action to help.

To say it was awkward was the simplest way to put it. After pouring herself a second drink, Linda started to trade insults with Edward; both telling the other how pathetic it is to find younger lovers. Mabel rolled her eyes but listened carefully, ever the quiet mouse who opted to observe rather than be seen. Bobby was snooping through anything he could get a hand on; attempting to know Tangerine without outright meeting him yet. John Boy didn't care this way or that, happy to just be involved and set the table for you.

"Chow's on!" You announced, leading everyone to the table and take whatever seat they liked.

"You know," Bobby started, "think it's a bit weird."

"What is?" You asked, handing Mabel the steamed sticky rice.

Bobby gestured around, "The whole thing. I mean, I'm almost tempted to believe you've made this Aaron character up. What kinda man skips out on a family meal like this?"

"A man who has a very demanding job," you snapped, the table still passing dishes around to take their fill. "I didn't ask you guys here to fucking harp on him, I asked you to just give him a chance and get to know him."

"Why should we even bother?"

"Because he's important to me!"

"You honestly think this is gonna last?" Bobby scoffed, shaking his head and passing the vegetables.

"Of course I do, I know how strong my relationship is. What the hell do you expect me to say, do, think, or feel if Aaron and I get married, and my family's feuding with the groom - "

"I beg your pardon?" Edward snapped, making the table go silent. "You're gonna marry this bloke?"

"No, Daddy, he hasn't proposed or anything, but we have been together almost 7 years" you explained. "I just used it as an example. Aaron's going to be in my life for a long time, I'd really appreciate everyone getting along."

"I think that's reasonable," Crystal smiled.

"Oh, shove it, nobody asked you," Linda sneered.

"Could you maybe not be a raging bitch for five minutes?" Edward snapped, dropping the cutlery with a loud clatter. "Don't talk to her like that - "

"The trollop doesn't get an opinion on family affairs!"

"Now that we're married," he held up his left hand, golden band visible, "she does get an opinion. It's your newest toy that shouldn't talk!"

"I didn't even say anything, mate," Toby scoffed.

"I'm not your 'mate', silly boy - "

The table erupted in a busy and loud argument, you slumping back into your chair; listening to your siblings attempt to resolve the feud. You thanked yourself for making the conscious decision to have this little dinner party at home instead of a restaurant; knowing Linda and Edward were never able to resist a good screaming match, even if in public. You sipped your wine mutely, eyes darting back and forth between either sides of the table.

However, they were silenced when there came a pounding at your front door. Three distinct, punctuated knocks of a fist, your mind instantly jumping to thinking it was the police - nobody else knocked like that. You went rigid instantly, brow furrowing, your father asking, "Expecting more company, honey?"

"No," you shook your head, already out of your seat and heading for the door - when suddenly - it was kicked in. Your scream was shrill from shock. The force of the violent entry splintered the doorframe; knob colliding with drywall, indenting it from the jarring movement. You yelped in shock, trying to back up, but there came a flood of armed men that instantly rushed you. You were only briefly aware of chairs scraping on hardwood floor as your family leapt up in shock.

Long gone was the argument, your family mutually screaming in fear.

These intruders yelled in Russian, fanning out to gather you and your family in harsh grips; shoving everyone into the living room. You were forced to sit down, at least one armed man posted for each of you, the others spreading out and searching the flat.

"What's happening? What the hell is happening!?" Mabel squeaked through her huffy breath, the men exchanging a few words before one stepped forward with his gun drawn at the ready. "Please, there's some mistake! Please, please, why are you - what is happening!? You can't do this! We only - "

"You," one of the intruders spoke with a heavy accent and a thick, pointed finger, "quiet." From his utility belt, the Russian produced several zip ties, demanding, "Hands. Hands, together! Now! You understand, eh!? Hands! Your hands! Now! Right now!"

Another henchman barked in Russian, telling you to comply or things would get messy. "Just do what they say," you whispered, pressing your wrists together and presenting them. They were secured tightly, your parents, their partners, and siblings enduring the same, and by the time the last zip was tied, the other henchmen returned.

You identified what was reported: "He's not here, no trace where he went."

"No, hmmm," mused the man obviously in charge, "well, that's all right, his girlfriend is right here." Your eyes widened as the Russian turned to look at you with a sadistic smirk. "Heard he's real protective of you, likes you a lot. Huh? Heard he once broke a man's collarbone for just looking at you - must be very important, yeah. What do you think he will do when he finds you - ruined?"

"You're not gonna do anything," you seethed between gritted teeth, "because you know he'd kill you all. Now, there's been no harm done so far, so there's time to walk away and I'll guarantee he or his brother won't come after you."

The Russian chuckled, "Oh-ho! Hear that, boys? Good old Tangerine's domesticated now. Takes orders from his bitch, and boy, she likes to bark!" Other henchmen chuckled, a few picking at the abandoned dinner. "I think it's time we send him our message, no?" The leader grinned to his men, earning a chorus of agreement.

Your eyes widened when the man lunged forward and yanked you to your feet, yellowed teeth gnashing in your face. "Whole family can watch!" Another intruder barked, curating a wave of laughter, "Call it, uh, bonding? Trauma bonding?"

"Oh, I like that," the leader of the kill squad grinned.

You gasped when the Russian balled his fist and socked you directly in the diaphragm; winding you, bending you at the waist, and giving him the vantage point to rocket his fist upwards into your nose. There was a sickly snap, you whimpering when a different Russian shoved you from behind and forced you to your knees; three different men joining the relentless and savage beating. You were kicked, punched, breaking several bones, being spat on, shoved over, and made to bleed your own blood. Though you hadn't wanted to, wanting to appear strong and unfazed, you cried out when the pain became too much; heaving for breath and praying the next kick to the head was enough to knock you unconscious.

But you weren't so lucky and wishful thinking was simply that: wishful, not applied or actual. Your family begged and pleaded for mercy, flinching when you spat blood on numerous occasions; shoes squeaking when they stepped in the globs. Everyone helpless and powerless in the current predicament, no hero to swoop in and save the day; your family knowing they were yelling into thin air and their words fell upon deaf ears. They could only watch and listen as you took the brunt end of three angry Russian's brute strength.

The leader had lit up a cigarette, watching his men physically assault you with an air of entertainment and aloofness. This went on for several long, agonizing minutes; you eventually going limp. "Hm," he waved his hand through the smoke, inhaling nicotine, "enough, boys, that's enough. She gets it, she gets we mean business." His men complied and backed away from you, letting the leader kneel at your head on blood-smeared hardwood floor. "You tell Tangerine and Lemon who did this, huh? Yeah? You tell them for me."

You spat blood in the Russian's face, smirking in satisfaction when it hung off his nose in a humiliating display of your stubbornness.

"Ah, I see," he wiped the blood clear, regarding it on his hand before bare-knuckle punching your head back into the ground. You were instantly dazed, groaning, the man continuing, "Now that you got that out of your system, you will remember my name. Huh? Ivan, yes? You remember that? Ivan. Fucking Ivan Kostka, you tell Tangerine and Lemon Ivan Kostka did this."

"The fuck does it matter who you are!?" You whimpered, eyes burning and being kept screwed tight. "You're a deadman walking, nobody cares about your fucking name except whoever inscribes your tombstone."

"Because your fruity boyfriend and his twin took something very valuable from me," the Russian leered, "and I have come to collect it back into my possession. You tell them, Ivan did this to you. I want them to know they are not untouchable - not to me. Not to my men. Tangerine can try to protecting you all he wants, but there will always be a time and place to act." Then, he laughed, "Know how easy it was for us to get here? Huh? Bit too easy, I admit. See, we picked up Tangerine's trail and followed him here. All we had to do was be patient for our opportunity."

"Who the fuck is Tangerine?" John was heard whispering to the others, a series of shrugs replying. The Russian gave a new command and several men divided to use their weapons to wreck the flat you called home; tearing up pillows, smashing spider-web cracks to the windows, tossing plates and mugs, overturning a bookcase, throwing expensive crystal glasses to watch the shards scatter.

Ivan continued to explain, "Your stupid fucking family talk so loud, eh, it is miracle they are not in witness protection, huh? We see them at your door, and when you opened for them, oh, it was easy to, ehhh, just follow them inside. Yeah? And now, here we are," he smirked. "I am sorry about this, though. You've such a pretty face, I almost don't want t'taint it," he pet a finger down your bloodied cheek.

"Go to hell!" You hissed.

"Oh, I will be when the Reaper comes for me. Remember, tell Tangerine it was Ivan... Ivan Kostka did this," he gestured to your tattered form, "and that I want my Faberge Egg and little sister back or this will get a lot worse for everyone involved."

You coughed as the man stood, whistling sharply and commanding his men to follow. The moment they were gone, as your family erupted in panicked screams, Mabel raced for the kitchen and snatched up a knife from the counter. Returning, your sister carefully uncut everyone's ties, your mother gasping and dropping to her knees when freed.

"What have you gotten us into, you stupid girl!?" She cried, massaging her constricted wrists.

You manage to mumble before passing out, "Call Brian."

Tangerine and Lemon had been on their own stakeout, tracking a gang of Russians accused of money laundering. He had forgotten to put his phone on the charger the night before, it dying and being left behind at his flat; so when there came a vibration, he knew it was Lemon's phone.

He hate the sound of the vibrations in the cupholder. "Oi, gonna fuckin' answer that?" Tangerine snapped, staring out the windshield.

"Uh, bruv?" Lemon turned the phone for Tan to see, guessing, "It's for you, I'm sure." The contact name displayed your home number.

Tangerine sighed and accepted the call with it on speaker, "Yeah, hello? Love? That you?"

"A-Aaron?"

"Linda?" Tan questioned in curiosity, hearing your mother's soft sob. "What's goin' on? What's wrong? Why're you calling? Where's Y/N?"

"Th-There's been an accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"The kind that involve angry Russians looking for some egg and someone's little sister? I don't know - "

"Oh, fuck me! Don't move, we're on our way," he rushed, hanging up. "Oi, fuck this, mate, get us back home," he barked at his brother, "we gotta get back now. Like right fucking now!"

"We can't just - "

"What? Leave our post?" Tan snapped. "Brian, you know where we are right now?"

He glanced outside, "Uh... Little Italy?"

"Fuckin' wanker," Aaron snapped. "No, this shipping yard is owned by the Kostka's - Russian crime family. You heard Linda, means the tip tonight was a set up t'get us away from the flat. They probably moved while we were absent. Now, c'mon, fucking hustle!"

Lemon connected the dots and started the engine, peeling away at a dangerous speed to navigate the city back to the high-rise apartment you and Tan shared. He couldn't explain why, but Tangerine could feel his heart in his throat; a sick feeling taking over at the thought of the Russians setting this entire thing up.

Why send he and Lemon to stakeout the shipping yard? Why remove them from the equation?

Upon arriving at the shattered front door, both men in pressed clothes came to a jarring halt, taking in the sight. The flat was a wreck, literal feathers from pillows still floating in the air, their dress shoes cracking over shattered glass.

Tan caught sight of your hunched body sitting on the couch. "Right, the fuck is this, then?" He demanded, striding up to where your family had surrounded you. "The hell happened? Swear t'God, I'll put a bullet... In... Whoever..." He trailed, pausing when he saw your state. Tangerine slowly squatted in front of you, gently trying to coax your chin up, "Lemme see, darlin', c'mon, c'mon, lemme see, c'mere."

When you met his baby blues, you could only watch as tears filled them - knowing they'd never fall. "I'm sorry," you whispered, throat soar from the beating; making you sound a lot hoarser than ever before.

"For what? You did nothing, love, nothing - couldn't have deserved this, now could yah?" He rushed to comfort, caressing your jaw in both hands to look you over. There was a long gash in your hairline that dripped racing drops of blood down your face. "This is my fault, I know it is, God fucking damn it. Who the fuck did this? Hey? You remember, darling? Remember anythin' 'bout these men?" But you were silent from shock. So, he addressed the room by barking, "Does anyone? What the hell happened here, tonight!?"

Your father cleared his throat before knocking back the last swig of his whiskey. "These Russian fuckers," Ed answered. "Big lot of 'em, too, all with scary lookin' tattoos and fucking guns. Some were automatic." He eyed your boyfriend, "Associates of yours?"

"Fucking hell," Tangerine looked up at his brother, "think they want the Faberge back?"

Lemon frowned, "Possibly, but that's only if - "

"Ivan," you whispered suddenly, Tangerine and Lemon both looking back at you in mild shock. "He said his name was Ivan and he wanted you two t'know there was no hiding from him. He wants back whatever it is you two took."

"Yeah, they want the fucking Egg," Tangerine's jaw flexed as he glared at the floor, sighing deeply, and then looking back at you. "Hey," he whispered, "I'm just glad you're alive and well-enough. Yeah? You're my priority, sweetheart, nothing else matters."

You sniffled, "I'm okay."

"Like hell you are," he shook his head, gently prodding around your bruised face and sighing, "look at yah. You're definitely not okay, sweetheart. Right, then, listen, we'll go to a safe house for the time being - "

"A what?" John asked incredulously.

"A safe house," Lemon repeated, "you know? Somewhere not on record to let us hide discreetly?"

"I know what it is - but why go?"

"Can't stay here, mate, it's compromised," Tan answered with a hardened tone. "Now, you gonna fuckin' stand there, questioning me, or go be useful and get ready to leave?"

"Tan," his brother offered softly, "lay off, they just watched our girl get the shit kicked outta her."

Tan nodded and looked back at you, "Yeah, all right, sorry, love, just a bit on edge. But I'm gonna fix this - "

Robert (or Bobby, he's also known as), scoffed a sarcastic laugh, arms crossed, approaching you and Tangerine. "You takin' the piss? Your fuckin' job is leadin' men t'my sister, breakin' in her own home, givin' her a beatin' meant for you, yah fuckin' twat! Yet that's all you got to say to us? That you're on edge?"

"What'chu want, then, bruv?" Tan snapped, standing to face Bobby. "Huh? Call it an occupational hazard, but just 'cause you wanna bring it up, know that we ain't never had no situation like this before. All right? Excuse us for tryna piece it best together."

"My fuckin' sister's still bleedin', and you're, what? Makin' it up as you go?" Bobby snarled. "You owe us a plan! Somethin'! Fuckin' anythin'! How the fuck are you gonna rectify this situation?"

Tan's mouth opened, ready to retort.

"All right, all right, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, no, no, quit it, cut it out, yah fucking ninnies!" Lemon stepped between them and forced distance between the two men. "That shit ain't gonna help us right now. We all need to think clearly, so let's try not to wind one another up. Yeah? Fair?"

"Fuck you," Bobby spat, "fuck the both of yahs, you're both responsible! Puttin' my sister in harms way! Fuckin' look at her!" He snarled and pointed, "Shakin' like a fuckin' leaf!"

"Yeah, all right, you what, mate?" Tan sneered.

"I'm not your mate."

"I'll just fuckin' handle this on my own - "

"Like hell you are," His brother interrupted. "They fucked with our family, ain't nowhere for them to hide."

Tangerine nodded, then asked, "How many men were here would you say? Ballpark number." It was quiet. "Someone better answer me!"

Linda sneered, "Some 12 or 15 men, most of whom carried assault rifles. Anything you wanna tell us, Aaron? Huh? Why were these men searching for you? What'd you do that was so bad, they hurt my little girl?"

Your boyfriend nodded and looked to his brother, stiffly nodding and stoically demanding, "Let's get fuckin' Biblical, then, yeah?"

Brian clicked his tongue and winked at his brother in agreement, Crystal handing you a bag of frozen peas to hold against your head.

"You're sure it's safe?" You whispered, holding onto your boyfriend like a crutch as you exited the elevator.

"They didn't want our protection, love, 'cause the Russians are after us," Tan answered. "Easy does it," he whispered, opening the door to the safe 'house' he and Lemon kept in downtown London - not terribly far from your actual flat. "At's a good girl, slowly - slowly," he kept one arm around you, the other holding the door for Lemon, who carried several duffels. "Right, see? Nice, ain't it?"

You nodded, still relatively drugged from the hospital you just left. After begging them to come with you, your family outright refused, saying Tangerine and Lemon were bad news and they wanted no part in whatever bullshit was happening; even though it meant leaving you alone. So, Lemon packed up the flat while Tan took you to the hospital, meeting again at the skyscraper that doubled as a fortress.

"Here we are," he sighed, lowering you to the couch; left wrist in a cast, a brace on your ankle, concussion, bandages and gauze stuck to random open wounds that required stitches. "Right," he knelt in front of you, "you saw the lobby, yeah? Ain't nobody gettin' in here without clearance, you're safe. Yeah?" He pushed a strand of hair from your face, hating how it was still crisp from dried blood.

"Okay," you whispered with a nod.

Aaron sighed, "I'm so sorry, love."

"Not your fault."

"But it is," he frowned, "'s all my fuckin' fault."

"Did you really take a Faberge Egg?"

"It's what our employer wanted, so... Yeah. Apparently, it was a right dime piece, thought lost in one of the wars. Very exclusive - "

"Most expensive Egg made," Brian added, dropping a couple of the duffels. "And it's not in our possession anymore, love."

"Fuck would we do with Faberge?" Aaron rolled his eyes.

"Hock it," his brother answered, bringing grocery bags into the kitchen and setting them on the counters.

"And the sister?" You asked, eye once being nearly swollen shut now just red and irritated; looking at him with profound sadness. "What happened to Ivan's sister?"

Aaron sighed, wiping a hand down his face, "She was placed in witness protection, she's an informant f'MI6 and Interpol. They want her 'cause she's been spillin' secrets, gettin' business all topsy-turvy."

"They wanna kill her?"

"Seems so," he nodded, smoothing his hands over both your thighs, "but don't you worry 'bout nothin', yeah? We'll handle this."

"How?"

"We've got a couple calls to make," he alluded, standing to his full height but bending at the waist to kiss your forehead gently. "Try to rest, love, we'll be here a bit."

You nodded and watched him stride out of the living room, grabbing one of the duffel bags Lemon had dropped and brought it to the glass dining room table. He ripped it open as you sunk into the plush fabric of the pillows, but perked up when Brian came into sight. "Here, darling," he set a mug of tea to the granite coffee table in front of you, "just a bit of something for your nerves, yeah? You all right? Need anything? A pain pill, maybe? You look uneasy."

"I'm all right," you promised, trying to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

"Mhm," he sent you a look, grabbing the pharmacy bag. "Don't be a hero, just keep yourself afloat. Here," he handed you a little, round, white pill and the tea. "Bottoms up, huh?"

You half-chuckled and did what he said, settling again as he grabbed a blanket and tossed it over you. "How often are you two here?" You asked.

"Ah, usually when we're doin' recon," he answered, handing over the remote. "All the streamin' you could want," he winked, pointing at the TV.

"Oi, mate," your boyfriend called, "thinkin' we should call Kiwi?"

"To stay with her?" He asked, caressing the top of your head affectionately; grabbing another duffel and meet his brother at the table. The London Eye was visible from the window, creating a picturesque scene.

"Yeah," Tan answered, "she's good company, ain't she? Handy with a gun. Usually shoots first, asks questions later."

Brian shrugged, "Couldn't hurt. But I think we need t'call Moss... See what he and The Agency can tell us 'bout Ivan."

"On it," Aaron agreed, rapidly typing on a nondescript laptop. But he paused suddenly, looking up and asking, "You gave her a pain pill?"

"Yeah."

"She should eat with it..."

"I'm right here, you know!" You snapped. "I can hear you!"

"I know, doll, sorry," Aaron sighed, going to the kitchen and grabbing you trail mix - knowing opioids gave you the munchies. "Here, love, just wanna make sure you stay all right," he handed the bag over, dropping to the spot beside you with a heavy sigh. "Listen, uh, we're gonna have some of the lads come over t'help."

"Who?"

"Well, Kiwi's a lass, but she works with us sometimes. She's handy t'have 'round inna pinch. That all right?"

"I'm not one for much company right now," you frowned.

"Nah, don't worry, she'll entertain herself," he chuckled slightly, eyes darting around to take in your appearance. In a low whisper, he breathed, "I'm so sorry this happened."

"You've said that," you half-smiled, placing an M&M at his lips. He accepted the treat. "We knew something was bound to happen eventually, right?"

"Not like this, this ain't acceptable," he shook his head. "Lookit, Ivan's one of them nasty fuckers, traffics narcotics into the country using a series of shipping yards. He's got a whole army at his fingertips, plenty of money t'sustain an all out war if he wants."

"When was the last time you dealt with this guy?"

Lemon joined you two, sitting on the other side of the L-shaped couch. He worked on the laptop now, but sent a look to Aaron that begged him to lie. But often, Tangerine never could to you, so, he told the truth, "Last we saw him was some 6 years ago."

Your head cocked, "That's when we first started dating."

"Yeah," he smirked, stretching his arm around you to bring you in close for both your comforts. "Remember that week you couldn't get ahold of me? I told yah I was on some bloody fishing trip?"

"Mhm."

"We were in Colombia, fuckin' up part of his operation."

Your eyes widened, "Colombia? You mean, this Russian's in league with South America? The cocaine capital of the world?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "but it's taken him apparently this long to get shit straightened out - else he would've come sooner."

"Or he was waitin' until our guard was down," Brian chimed in, rapidly tapping on the laptop. "Intel says... Ivan's been in the country 'bout 3 months."

"And before that?"

"Uh... Looks like... Ah, fuckin' hell, he was in Spain, Portugal, Nicaragua, even fuckin' Trinidad."

"Sounds like he's made some friends," Tangerine frowned. You nestled a little closer, his arm contracting to squeeze you tight. "Send word t'Kiwi and Moss, ask Moss t'bring only The Jailbird."

"Who the fuck - you know what? I don't want t'know," you whispered.

"The Jailbird is a brutal fucker," Lemon chuckled, typing faster, "took out an entire fright train by himself with a single shotgun and only a couple rounds of ammo."

"Brian," Tan warned, shaking his head.

"What? 'S not like she's gonna say shit, you picked the most loyal girl in the world," he grinned, winking at you. "Right, love?"

"Mhm."

"That pain pill kicking in yet?"

"Not yet," you yawned.

"Right," your lover chuckled, handing over the mug of tea, "we've got some work t'do, you sit tight. Need somethin', anythin', just ask. Please," he frowned, "don't try t'get up."

"All right," you whispered, lifting your chin slightly with intent. He smiled and met you the rest of the way, pressing a gentle kiss to your split lips.

The lads went back to the glass table, setting up a network of tools and technology, muttering to one another as they did what they knew to gather as much information as possible.

About an hour later, there was a knock at the door that made you flinch. "It's all right," Tangerine rushed, but pulled his gun in hand, "probably Kiwi - "

"It's me, fuckers!" A female called from the other side.

Your boyfriend checked through the peephole and sighed, holstering his gun and opening the door. "Kiwi," he greeted.

"Tangerine," she rolled her eyes, strolling into the flat with her arms full of food. "I brought lunch! Know you fuckers aren't payin' attention to time and shit. Oh!" She grinned when she saw you, "Oh, my word, you're her! Wow, you're even prettier in person! You know, Aaron's told me all about you - "

"Fuck off," Tan snapped.

"Fuck you," she sent right back, "been askin' t'meet your lady for years now, now I finally get to."

"I wish it were under better circumstances," you offered softly, watching the lass with stark white hair round into the living room to set coffee cups and paper bags down.

"Oh, hi, hello, you gorgeous girl," she grinned, sitting next to you and hugging you softly. You were shocked, eyes wide, but hugged her back. "Oh, it's real nice to meet yah, heard all about'cha!"

"Really?" You asked when she pulled back, "'Cause I didn't know a thing about you until an hour ago."

"Makes sense," her eyes rolled, "them two never talk 'bout shit. Makes 'em good agents, but shit lovers. Huh?"

"I'd have to disagree," you smiled softly, defending your love.

"Yeah," she grinned, "knew I'd like you. Lemon!" She greeted in a cheer, standing swiftly to set one coffee cup out for you and take the rest over to the table.

"Hi, Key," he chuckled, offering her a hug. "Lookin' fit, aren't yah?"

"Just got back from a 6 month stint in the DR," she nodded.

"R&R or mandatory?"

"Rehab," she shrugged casually, "but not for me."

"Makes no bloody sense," Tan rolled his eyes.

"I was there, cozyin' up t'fucking Francisco Juarez."

"No fuckin' shit," Lemon laughed. "How was that?"

"The man's mental, but shit, he's got some balls of steel."

"Jesus Christ," Tan groaned. "Can we focus, please? Where's Moss? Anyone heard from him?"

"Mh," Kiwi nodded, swallowing a mouthful of coffee as you gingerly reached for your own; trying not to strain the shattered ribs you earned. "He called me on my way here, said he was on his way, just had to pick something up."

Lemon and Tangerine shared a look as Kiwi practically skipped back over to you. She happily struck up a conversation, telling you all about how she first met Aaron and Brian on some recon mission in Moscow - the three apparently all tracking Ivan. So, no wonder she was asked to assist on this little mission.

The man named Moss arrived not long after, dropping another duffel in the foyer and silently approaching Tangerine and Lemon. Kiwi waved the behavior off, whispering, "That's one of the bosses. Not a man of many words, just a man of action, yeah?"

You nodded in understanding, accepting the Tylenol she handed you and answering her 20,000 questions. You heard the three men muttering together, papers shuffling over the tabletop and the laptop dinging every time there was new information.

"Oh, holy shit," Lemon gaped at the screen, earning everyone's attention. "You lot aren't gonna believe this."

"What's wrong?" Moss asked, moving to his shoulder and peering over to look at the laptop. "Well... Ain't that interesting?"

"What?" Kiwi asked.

"Looks like Ivan's here for some wedding..." Lemon muttered, tapping on the return key repeatedly. "No shit!"

"WHAT!?" Kiwi snapped, making you flinch. She instantly apologized, "Oh, shit, sorry, sorry, sorry, love, I get a bit excited when outta the loop."

"Ivan's sister's gettin' married," Moss reported, "to the Minister of Defense."

It was quiet for a long moment, the agents stewing in shock. "Well, that can't be good," you whispered to Kiwi.

"Not entirely, just means our jobs got a helluva lot more exciting, though," she grinned, dropping a wink.

Three days. Three bloody days, you've been confined to the safe house. You were under strict orders not to leave out of fear of retaliation, so you remained for Aaron's peace of mind.

Moss, Tangerine, Lemon, and Kiwi were preoccupied focusing on their plan of attack. They figured there be an altercation at the engagement party, designing a trustworthy team to help them infiltrate and keep an eye. The day of the party, you were curled up in bed, reading to pass the time, and when you noticed Tangerine leaning in the doorway, your book snapped shut.

"How long you gonna keep me here?" You asked. "Some of us have day jobs they need to get back to."

He smirked, "I covered for yah."

"How?"

"Said you had a funeral t'go to in the States," he eased, pushing off the doorframe and approaching your side of the bed. He grunted as he sat, sighing deeply, "Listen, sweetheart..."

"Oh, that's never good."

"Just listen," he smirked. "Tonight's the engagement party, so we're gonna make our move."

"Are you sure Ivan's gonna be there? That this is what needs done?"

"We got it worked out, love," he promised. "Just need yah t'stay here with Kiwi. Keep safe, yeah?"

You stared at him for a moment, cocking your head slightly, "Been meaning to ask - why refer to each other's codenames when alone, like we are?"

"Good habit t'have," Aaron shrugged, caressing your head and then petting a finger down your cheek softly. "Hate leavin' you like this, but I'm gonna kill the fuckers that dared touch you."

"I'm not usually one for violence or revenge, but in this case, go crazy."

He nodded and stood with a smirk, stooping slightly to press his lips against yours. There was a solemn tension in the air, foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, him whispering, "Love you, darlin'."

"Love you, too," you answered instantly. "Just make sure you come home, yeah?"

"As quick as I can," he swore.

You learned that day, you hated waiting. You despised being out of the know, having no connection to tell you what was happening on Aaron's side of things. Kiwi was a great distraction, though. She was chipper, talkative, wildly animated; sharing a joint with you, ordering take out that a security guard brought up, and making you watch all her favorite movies.

She checked her phone several times, eventually, you begging, "Any word?"

"Nah, don't worry," Kiwi smiled, "they usually don't give updates when on the job."

Unknown to you, on the other side of town, Tangerine and Lemon were changing into suits the hotel waiters would wear to serve the engagement party. Moss was in a nondescript white van, working surveillance, informing in the headset, "The Jailbird's in position."

"So are we," Lemon reported, nodding at his brother. "Ready, bruv?"

"It's gonna get messy," he nodded, cracking his neck and leading the charge into the event room with trays of champagne. He surveyed the room subtly, seeing The Jailbird working the catering table in a matching suit, and when the couple of the hour entered, it was showtime. However, before springing into action, the trio of trained and paid assassins had to wait for the first move else they'd blow their cover and alert Ivan they were onto him.

The future bride's name was once something traditionally Russian, now choosing to be Veronica, and her soon-to-be-husband, Gerald, was the very man who had established her witness protection. It was romantic, in a way, that the two fell in love; being naughty and a little forbidden, yet still tantalizing. Their families filled the room with the groom's colleagues, security lining the walls - yet being unable to do anything if the Russians decided to attack.

However, the moment Tangerine saw Ivan, he went rigid with anger. "Mate, hang on, don't do it - we have a plan for a reason," Lemon tried to warn, but sighed hotly when his brother stormed off. Into the comms system, he warned, "Heads up, lads, Tangerine's on the move. 'S bouta get real sticky, people, stay sharp."

Tangerine surged up behind Ivan, who was dressed similarly and indicating he, too, was undercover at this event. Tan felt his face redden with anger, tapping Ivan's shoulder, and when the Russian turned, he didn't hesitate to pull his fist back and launch it directly into Ivan's nose. It was the first punch thrown (literally) that spurred the other Russians into action.

People shrieked, heels clattered to flee, and security guards rushed to cover their employers; not knowing who the desired target was. Luck didn't seem on their side that evening as security managed to get Gerald out of the hall, but his fiancé, Ivan's sister, was separated in the stampeding crowd; gunshots making patrons scream in concern.

In their comms, Moss barked, "Veronica! Someone cover Veronica! She's the informant - get to Veronica!"

The Jailbird flipped the catering table to reveal several heavy-duty guns strapped for this very moment. He and Lemon made their selections, Tan preferring his fist; someway, somehow, missing getting shot by Ivan's men. But the Russian gangster was just as angry, fending off Tangerine and even getting a few punches in himself. All for nought, though, because Tangerine had the power of his anger propelling him; your face conjured in his mind, bloodied, making him hit harder - and harder - and harder.

"You! Dirty! Fuckin'! Scum!" Tan punctuated each word with a blow of his fist, keeping Ivan in his grip like a vice. "C'mere! You've done it now, haven't yah, you fuckin' bastard? Fucked up by touchin' my woman! I'll fuckin' gut you!"

Ivan's elbow cracked Tan's nose, making him stumble back a few steps. The Russian grinned, blood outlining his teeth, "She was real pretty, wasn't she, eh? I tried to leave her face for yah! Didn't wanna fuck that up too bad!"

"C'mere!" Tangerine roared, knuckles bloody. However, as he was winding up for another hit, one of Ivan's men tackled Tan from the side and knocked him into a banquet table - collapsing it.

The Russians were in an abundance, yet stood no chance when Tangerine got ahold of a handgun. The Jailbird preferred the larger shotgun, blowing gargantuan holes in people's chests; Lemon keeping it simple and just doing his job by taking out the enemy. It was Tan who was absolutely feral, sprayed in the blood of his enemies and sparing no life he came across; the party's occupants screaming in terror and trying to flee the event hall between gunshots.

"Tan!" The Jailbird barked, pointing off at someone, and when he looked, Tan locked onto Ivan again. The Jailbird located Veronica, trying to save her, but being unsuccessful when a Russian got to her first - disappearing from his line of sight as the chaos rampaged.

Growling, Tangerine started firing single shots to the heads of anyone in his way of his main target, but this time, the Russian saw him coming and was plenty prepared. The blade Ivan used cut Tan deep, filleting flesh; but did not stop the man wanting to avenge his love.

Bodies hit the floor left and right as Tangerine's anger swelled, there not being a single force in the world that could stop him now. Whatever Tan could get his hands on turned into a weapon, finding every single Russian responsible for what happened to you - the love and light of his life.

The engagement party was decorated with white table cloths and white roses, now stained and splattered in blood the longer the fight went. The musicians of the live band had fled, security encountering the Russian that had Veronica and shooting him dead, food covering the walls. Moss had tapped into the security cameras, informing his men when more Russians were racing towards the room; grunting when he threw off his headset, grabbed a gun, and left the van to take out anyone trying to get inside.

Lemon did his best to cover Tangerine's six, but the Russians kept coming in waves; far more prepared than they were that evening. Yet it didn't matter, their numbers might've been high but the anger Tangerine and Lemon felt was a gift from God Himself, spurring them to work harder and smarter.

Once inside, Moss brought The Jailbird to higher ground and strategically shot down their enemies while Lemon and Tangerine operated on the ground. When face-to-face with Ivan, Tan seethed, "You waited 6 years for a shot at me, would've thought you'd try harder."

"Don't need to," Ivan laughed, "I already got you!"

"Didn't get shit - "

"That why your girl's all alone? Don't worry, lad, I sent some boys to go deal with her. C'mon, then!" Ivan taunted, waving Tan in an antagonizing motion, weilding the 6-inch blade. As the two exchanged blows, Ivan laughed, "Never told me! Did you like my li'l gift? How I left your girl?"

Tangerine grit his teeth and used a chair to bash the Russian over his head. "I'll fucking gut you for touching her!" He shouted, people still squealing and screaming in fright.

"You stole my inheritance! That Faberge Egg's been in my family for generations!" Ivan roared, "And my fucking sister! If not for you," he grunted, taking a hacking swipe and missing, "she never would've opened her mouth!"

"Your sister, mate, fuckin' hates your guts!" Tan barked, kicking Ivan back and sending him crashing through a table. "She would've spoke even if we hadn't picked her up!"

"Bullshit!" Ivan snarled, swinging and his blade catching Tan's bicep, slicing shirt and flesh. "My sister knew loyalty! Until you rotten fucks showed up, kidnapping her, confusing her! Fucking brainwashing her!"

"She's the one who hired us, mate!"

"Liar!"

Tangerine earned the upper hand by flipping Ivan onto his back, dropping to his knees, and wailing his fist into the Russian's face. He kept hitting him, even when Ivan stopped moving; flesh tearing, meat flying, bones breaking, and blood spurting in every which direction.

Blood painted his face, droplets racing down to create streaks.

At the safe house, Kiwi was making tea when there came a series of distant banging from outside the flat's door. She met your worried eyes and pulled out a gun, holding a finger to her lips to indicate you to stay quiet. She checked the in-house security system, spying a few Russian Mafia members fighting through the security guards and getting closer.

"Right," she rushed, helping you off the couch, "you gotta hide and stay quiet, love, I'll handle this quickly."

"Handle what? What's going on?"

"They're here."

"A-Are we safe?"

"For now."

"Are the lads!?"

"We'll find out!" Kiwi stuffed you inside one of the closets, assuring, "No worries, I'll handle them, you just stay here. Aaron would kill me if he knew something happened to you on my watch."

You didn't even have time to register that she used his real name; finding no choice in the matter as she shut the doors, and through the slats, watched her brandish a gun. You flinched when you made out the sounds of a struggle and then several gunshots, not knowing who fired them, who was being shot at, or what was happening.

Tears of fear filled your eyes, holding your breath and just waiting with trembling appendages. You hated waiting. You hated not knowing. You hated the tension, the fear, the cultivation of stress.

When the doors ripped open, you gasped shrilly and stepped back into the wall, but calmed when you realized it was only Aaron. And then you realized - it was Aaron!

"Baby," you gasped, leaping into his embrace out of sheer relief; arms wrapping around his neck and being dampened with blood. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, you're okay - you're okay, you're really okay."

"Yeah, 's all right, love," he rushed, one arm holding your waist, the other petting the back of your head. "I'm all right, 's all right, I'm here. I've got yah, love, I'm here now. They're all dead, they're all dead, my love, we got 'em all, you're safe, it's all right. Nobody will touch you again - never again, sweetheart."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" You sniffled, pulling back to take both his cheeks in hand and frowning, "Is this blood!?"

"Yeah," he whispered, gently taking your wrists to pull your hands down. "But it's all right, 's not mine. I'm not hurt." He didn't let you answer, rushing, "Are you all right? Hey? Not hurt?"

"No, no, Kiwi - she protected me," you nodded, sniffling. "Where is she? Is she all right!?" You suddenly panicked, but Tangerine shushed you gently.

"She's fine, love, she's safe. Not a single scratch on her. Had most of the Russians down and out by the time we got back."

"And Brian?"

"Lemon's fine," he promised softly, "just cleanin' up in the other bathroom. Which," he smirked gently, "we should probably do the same. C'mon."

You agreed, hating the sight of blood on your man. When in the shower together, you got a look of the cuts and bruises he earned that night; knowing that despite him being the reason you were attacked, he was also the man who would protect you from anything and anyone. No matter the cost.

There was nowhere you were safer.

Watching you wash his wounds in spite of your own, Tangerine realized he didn't need to ask your father for permission - he was gonna marry you. Come hell or high water, there wasn't anything or anyone - be it Edward or Ivan - that could keep him from loving you the rest of his life.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[cieloclercs]

Eternal life

Oscar piastri x russian figure skater

the ice queen — oscar piastri

pairing. oscar piastri x russian figure skater!reader

face claim. alina zagitova

warnings. swearing, google translate russian (im sorry), look guys i know the winter olympics were last year but for the sake of this they’re this year ok ?? 🙏 i used pictures from oscar’s sprint podium in spa for singaore (which obviously isn’t accurate plz overlook it hehe)

author’s note. hello anon! i hope you enjoy this, sorry it took so long ❤️

requests are still open for my 1k event! send something in if you’d like <3

liked by oscarpiastri and 76,264 others

yourusername swipe for a fail 🥴

view all comments…

yourfriend1 pleased to announce i got said fail on video ☺️

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liked by yourusername and 23,815 others

oscarpiastri Ready to shine in Singapore 🇸🇬🤩

view all comments…

username LET’S GOOO OSCAR

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yourusername

replies:

oscarpiastri cute cap, where’d you get it?

↳ yourusername this weird australian guy gave it to me. idk i would have preferred a number 4 🤷‍♀️

↳ oscarpiastri you sure? i heard number 81’s the favourite for a podium this week 😏

↳ yourusername we’ll see 🙃

liked by yourusername and 50,367 others

oscarpiastri First ever F1 podium 🧡 Let’s keep them coming 😉

view all comments…

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username oscar’s such a simp oh my god she turns up to one race and he’s giving her his merch 😭😭 what a dork

username i mean it’s y/n y/l/n can you blame him 🤷‍♀️

username i fear we’ve lost her y/n nation 😔

username as much as it pains me to say it i think you might be right 🥲

username i just can’t believe we’ve lost her to a guy who drives in circles for a living 🙄

username doesn’t y/n skate in circles? the shade works both ways honey 😚

liked by oscarpiastri and 90,712 others

yourusername thank you for having me mclaren 🥰 and congratulations to oscarpiastri on your first f1 podium !! i had a blast 🧡🧡

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mclaren Glad to have you on board, champ 🧡 See you again soon 😉

*yourusername liked this comment

landonorris you do know oscar’s not the only mclaren driver right 😃

yourusername the only mclaren driver with a podium this week though 🙃

oscarpiastri Thank you Y/N 😊🧡

yourusername 🫶

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months later…

oscarpiastri

replies:

landonorris ice queen? 🤨

↳ oscarpiastri of course

↳ landonorris simp.

yourusername

replies:

oscarpiastri ouch ☹️

↳ yourusername just telling you what you need to hear, babe ☺️

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yourusername олимпийский чемпион! после стольких лет упорной работы я не могу поверить, что эта мечта наконец-то осуществилась 🥹 я хочу поблагодарить многих людей, которые помогли мне достичь этого: моего тренера, моих товарищей по команде, мою семью. я бы не справилась без каждого из вас! 🤍

olympic champion! after all the years of hard work, i can’t believe this dream has finally come true 🥹 there are so many people i want to thank for helping me get to this point: my coach, my teammates, my family. i couldn’t have done this without any of you! 🤍

i also want to thank my boyfriend and number one supporter oscarpiastri for putting up with me these last few months of prep 😭 i don’t know what i would have done without you 🥹 love you baby ❤️

…

oscarpiastri congratulations, my love 🩷 i’m so proud of you 😘

yourusername 💗💗

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[flamehairedwritings]

Do Not Touch

Characters: Jim Hopper x Female Reader 

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 10k

A/N: My take on your friend and mine: sex-pollen! I started writing this two years ago, isn’t that wild.

Tags: s3 Hop’, dub-con because of sex-pollen, fuck or die situation, Hopper being a huge dick at first, swearing, masturbation, dirty talk, thigh-riding, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, doggy-style, creampies, hand on neck/throat but no choking, gentle-mdom Hop’, more submissive reader, slight praise kink, slight cum play.

Summary: A visit to Murray’s house of wonders provides a lot more than you bargained for.

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites.

—

“... fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“They’re tapping your phones, Jim, how can you not see it?”

“‘cause it’s not fuckin’ true.”

“Oh, right, so...”

As Murray sets off on another rant, you raise your eyes to the heavens, or rather the dirty, damp ceiling, and tip your head back against the wall, exhaling a long, long breath.

You knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Not impossible, but not easy.

And even Hopper had known Murray was your only hope with this kind of thing.

This kind of thing being that neither of you speak Russian and Murray does.

You’d heard the message over the Hawkins Police Radio two days ago while you and Hop were working late in his office. He’d been adjusting the frequency, fiddling, more like, when the voice had suddenly come through, delivering a short message. You’d both stared at each other, then it had come through again. You’d realised it was the same passage and had quickly grabbed a pen, repeating it to yourself as you wrote it down phonetically on your notepad.

Neither of you had known what to do, so you’d just carried on with your evening, working on your new case. But it had weighed heavy on your mind when you’d left; with the strange things that had gone on in Hawkins in the last couple of years, you are suspicious of everything. Hopper apparently had shared your thoughts as, the next morning, he’d called you into his office, shut the door, and asked if you’d kept the note. When you said you had, you’d both then decided that deciphering it would put your minds at ease.

... Except it was really fucking hard because none of the words sounded close to anything you recognised.

Barely ten minutes later, Hopper had shoved his chair back and hissed out curses.

“We’re gonna go and see Murray,” he’d muttered as he’d strode out of the room to get more coffee.

You’d watched him go, irritation prickling at you because everything needed to be done right now with him these days. In the four years you’d known him, he’d never exactly been a very patient man, but this was different. In the last few weeks he was quick to rile, short-tempered, irritable, yelling more often than not, and you were starting to get sick of it.

So maybe it’s a good thing that he can let that all out on Murray now, who can give back as good as he gets, often, actually, better.

Not that you don’t stand up for yourself when Hopper is in one of his new moods and snaps. He never yells at you, he never has, just raises his voice slightly or gets unnecessarily snippy or even borderline patronising, but your usual tactic is to just walk away, leaving him to stew until he comes to you and makes his kind of apology (offering you a hot drink or a pastry), or you try and lighten the mood. That’s just getting tiring now, though. 

And it’s also a huge turn-off.

Yeah, okay, fine, you’ve admitted it to yourself, you’re attracted to him, but it’s a line you don’t like to cross; he’s your boss and your close friend, too, considering everything you’ve both been through with El, Joyce and the kids.

Now, though, you’re not even sure you want to be his friend.

You’ve tried to talk to him, ask him why he’s so God damn angry all the time but he just brushes you off or says he didn’t sleep well. The latter is nothing new, he was a mess when you’d arrived in Hawkins, sleeping for a few hours at a time on his couch in his trailer, but he’d really come into his own since then, especially when he’d had to start taking care of El. The former is new. Living through life or death situations, spending many late nights working together, and the town being small has brought you two closer together, and you’ve confided in him and he in you, so it stings when he brushes you off like you don’t have a history, like you aren’t his friend. Like you don’t matter.

“Do you know what it fuckin’ says or not?” Hopper thunders in the next room, and the patronising edge to his tone has your nose wrinkling.

“Of course I do, you neanderthal, if you give me the fucking piece of paper then I will be able to write it down for you.”

For once, and you never thought that you ever would, you’re on Murray’s side.

There’s the muffled sound of cursing, then a patronising ‘thank you’ from Murray, and then it’s quiet, except for the sound of a chair squeaking as one of them sits down. From the huff, probably Hopper. Folding your arms across your chest, you exhale another breath as you let your gaze travel the room.

It’s exactly how you’d imagine Murray’s place would be. There are... things everywhere, on every surface, some things you don’t even recognise like devices and folders with foreign writing on them, all just strewn around. To your left on a counter there’s even a corked jar marked ‘DO NOT TOUCH’, filled with a russet-coloured liquid, an unfamiliar, what was once probably red, flower head submerged in it. It looks rather like a lily, but there are strange, swirling patterns on the petals that you don’t recognise.

Your attention is diverted by the sound of the chair squeaking again, boots on wood, and then Murray’s voice.

“Ah, ah, ah, what do I get, Chief?” 

“What?”

“What do I get for my services?”

“What do you get? You don’t get a fuckin’ broken nose, you asshole.”

There’s the sound of paper sliding against skin.

“... What the fuck is this?”

“It’s what was written for me, word for word, so unless you got something wrong, then that’s it.”

There’s silence, then the sound of Hopper striding closer to the room you’re in.

“You’re welcome,” Murray calls as Hopper exits the room, and you press your lips together at his thunderous expression.

“Thank you, Murray,” you answer for him, raising your voice a little.

“Ah, you’re welcome.”

Dropping your arms as Hopper nears, you raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“It doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense,” he mutters, thrusting the note towards you.

Taking it from him, you read it, then frown as you read it again.

The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly.

Inhaling a long breath, you shrug and look up at him. “Yeah, that makes no sense to me.”

“Yeah, I thought it wouldn’t.”

You make yourself interpret that in a kind way as you look at him, watching him lean against the counter beside you and take the note from you, shoving it into his pocket.

It’s complicated. It doesn’t make any sense. He’s not making a comment on my intelligence.

Licking your lips, pressing them together for a moment, you open your mouth, then close it... then open it again, your voice low, “Do you think this maybe has something to do with what Joyce was saying about the magnets? And the lab?”

If his expression was thunderous before, it’s just full on pissed off now. His gaze darting up to you, you can see how tight his jaw is.

“We don’t know that.”

“I know we don’t, but it’s a little suspicious—”

“Or it could just be some people communicating via code.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s suspicious, isn’t it—”

“Not necessarily—”

He goes to put a hand on his hip as he huffs out a breath, but his elbow knocks against the jar, pushing it off the ledge, and your eyes widen as your hands dart out in the same moment Hopper’s do. Both of you acting on instinct, it fumbles in both your hands for all but two seconds as you try to catch it, in the process the cork top sliding off and some of the liquid spilling onto your hands and his arms and you’re waiting for it to sting and burn but it doesn’t and then— 

And then it’s falling and smashing on the floor.

You stare at the spreading liquid, the flower resting limply on it before your eyes dart up to meet Hopper’s, your mouth open. His is closed firmly, his hands, like yours, still raised.

“What was that?!” Murray calls, and you hear him approaching, your eyes now darting to the archway.

“Uh, it—”

“Nothin’, bye, Murray.”

Hopper grabs your hand and pulls you towards the front door, shoving it open and leading you out into the fresh air. He releases you and pulls his car keys out of his pocket as you head for the passenger side of the Blazer, both of you swiftly climbing in once he’s opened it. He’s starting the engine and turning the Blazer around before either of your seatbelts are on properly. Good. There’s only so much shit a human being can take from Murray.

Your seatbelt secured, a glance in the wing-mirror shows you the man himself, waving his arms frantically and faintly yelling for you to come back.

Absolutely fucking not.

Whatever it was, you’re sure it’s replaceable. Sure he collects weird things but it was just a flower, how precious could it be?

You hear Hopper blow out a breath as you head back to the main road, both of you relaxing. Leaning your head back, you keep your eyes on the road, letting the riddle swirl in your mind. You’re certain it’s connected to Joyce’s theories; in all the time you’ve been working at the Station you’ve not once heard someone speaking in code over the radio that wasn’t one of your own or kids, and as for Russian? You’d be very surprised if anyone in the little old town of Hawkins spoke it.

You want to broach the subject with him again, but maybe not now when you’re stuck in a hot car with him and only just starting a nearly two hour drive.

Boy, is it hot.

It’s just gone noon and it’s already sweltering. Rolling the window down, you tilt your head towards it, expecting some kind of breeze. There’s a light one, but it does nothing, so you grip the front of your shirt between your thumb and forefinger and waft it, trying to create some air. The way the shirt moves against your skin... every time it touches against it, slides against you with the movement, you’re hyper-aware of it. Maybe it’s just because you’re more aware of your body in general considering how hot you are.

God, it is uncomfortably hot.

You’re about to ask Hop to put the aircon on when he does so, angling a few of the grates towards himself. Glancing at him, you notice a few beads of sweat at his hairline.

“It’s hot, isn’t it?”

“Hm.”

Oh, well, that’s that conversation over.

You give him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he’s probably thinking about the riddle, too, so you return your thoughts to it, repeating it, turning it over and over—

It’s so hot it’s actually quite hard to think. 

Blinking and widening your eyes a little, you say each word of the riddle slowly in your mind, but they just end up being words, and when you try and say it all together again you just end up stopping halfway through, forgetting it momentarily.

Just wait until you’re back, you can have a cool drink, whack the aircon right up and think about it until you go mad.

You angle the grates on your side so one’s sending a cool breeze to your face, the other your body, and then drop your hand into your lap—

Jesus Christ.

Your leg jerks a little, involuntarily, as you register the sensation of your fingers on your clothed inner thigh. You quickly move your hand to your side but even that, your fingers gliding over your leg, makes your stomach muscles tighten.

It had felt good. Far better than it usually did.

You’re just hyper-aware of yourself because of how hot you feel, it’s fine.

You shift a little in your seat and— 

You catch yourself before a sound escapes you.

Fucking hell, that had felt good. So good in fact, your pussy is actually starting to ache.

Usually when you’re turned on, very turned on, the smallest of touches can have you gasping but... Are you turned on? You take a moment to consider it and find... Fuck, you are. Where the fuck has this come from? 

Hopper clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts, glancing at him. He’s sweating a little more and he’s gripping the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles almost white, but that’ll just be the heat, another thing that pisses him off.

You need a distraction from... whatever this is your body has decided to feel.

“Maybe it’s from another town.”

“What?” He says it so sharply, almost like you’ve said something completely ridiculous.

“The message? Maybe it’s from another town and just carried over—”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your mouth closes tightly and you return your gaze to the road, staring at it.

Take a breath. He’s in one of his moods. Murray has riled him up. Just let him ride it out... Fuck that, I really need to say something to him about his attitude.

It’s the perfect distraction, planning in your mind what you’re going to say when you get back to Hawkins, coming up with retorts and come-backs to whatever he could say, acting out the conversation in your head and going down every route imaginable. You get so in to it, in fact, that you manage to just about forget how warm you are, and you don’t notice that Hopper is sweating profusely, his hips shifting every few minutes.

—

Your clothes are sticking to every inch of you. Your entire body aches.

What the hell is going on.

You’ve been in the car for a total of thirty minutes now, but it feels like a God damn lifetime. Thinking about arguing with Hop had only gotten you so far; it had channelled some of this weird energy you’re feeling but then suddenly you’d thought about ripping his shirt off and shoving him onto his God damn uncomfortable couch and sitting in his lap while you told him all about how God damn annoying he is.

And then the aches, the bone deep aches, had started.

Fuck, do I have the flu?

You just feel awful. Your elbow rests against the car door, your hand supporting your head, and you stare out of the window, taking slow, deep, steadying breaths. You feel nauseous and your skin is on fire. You’ve tried to keep quiet but you actually think you might be sick, and between throwing up in his car and asking him to pull over, you think the latter will annoy him less.

“Hop’.”

“What?” He doesn’t snap this time, instead he sounds... strained.

“Can we pull over soon? I don’t feel well.”

“Yeah.”

Wow.

Okay.

That hadn’t been so hard. 

His voice is still strained and short, but, again, that could just be the heat. He doesn’t pull over immediately and as you glance up you notice a sign for a motel not too far ahead.

Oh, good.

Ten minutes later, the tyres of the Blazer are screeching as he turns sharply into the parking lot of the motel. You have to grip at the handle of the door as he swings in, parking swiftly and braking hard.

“I’ll get rooms.” The words are said so sharply it’s like they’ve been punched out of him.

God, he really doesn’t want me to throw up in here.

Wait, ‘rooms’? Are we staying for a night? That’d be nice.

You both climb out, and you’re almost dizzy from the action. Hopper’s already striding towards the reception booth and you slowly follow after him, wiping the sweat from your brow. You have to walk with your legs slightly apart because your thighs rubbing together... What the fuck is going on? By the time you reach Hopper he’s already got a key and is turning on his heel, walking back behind you.

“C’mon.”

As he passes you, his elbow brushes against your arm and you both flinch because, fuck, a weird little electric shock thing happens. Except, whereas when that usually happens you only feel it on your skin, this time you feel it all over your body, spreading down and curling somewhere in your lower stomach.

And it felt good.

Beads of sweat run down your arms, back and chest as you follow him up a flight of stairs to the first floor. It takes every ounce of energy you have to get up there, whereas Hopper’s almost running. The door’s open when you finally reach it and he’s got the aircon on high which you’re grateful for. Closing the door behind yourself, you’re about to thank him when you look over at him and you notice that he’s drenched in sweat, just as you are.

He glances up and briefly meets your gaze before he runs a hand through his damp hair, his eyes sweeping the room as he paces, his eyebrows raised.

“Only one room left. Sorry.”

You shake your head, the action just increasing your nausea, as you shrug. “No, it’s okay. It’s not like we need to spend the night. Just... think I need a nap, or something. Feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

There’s a short silence in which you sit down on the nearest of the two double beds, your hands on your knees.

“Me, too.”

You look up at him, your brow dipping. “What?”

Hopper gestures at himself before he drops his hand, exhaling a hard breath. “Feel like... feel like I’m gonna be sick, too. Feel so fuckin’ hot, can’t think straight.”

“Yeah, me as well...” Your frown deepens. “Are we both sick?”

“How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know. It came on so suddenly, too, only after we left...”

You meet his gaze as he presses his lips together, following your train of thought.

“That son of a bitch...”

Crossing the room, he grabs the phone from the bedside table and dials Murray’s number. At any other time you would have laughed that he had it memorised. Like they’re pals.

His tongue darting over his lips, your eyes following it for some reason, he holds the phone to his ear, his jaw clenched.

Murray answers on the first ring.

“Hey, Murray—”

You can hear the other man even from where you’re sat.

“You broke the jar, didn’t you.”

“Uh, yeah, but I can—”

“Oh, you fucking idiot. Is she with you?”

Hopper’s eyes briefly dart to you. “Uh, yeah, hey, I’m sure it’s replaceable, I can pay—”

“One, no, it’s not, and two, it’s not me you should be thinking about, you ass.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, are you feelin’ a little weird, Jim? Huh? Is your lady friend?”

“Uh...” He glances at you again before turning his back, lowering his voice slightly. “Yeah, why?”

You stood up instantly as he turned, and, ooff, there’s the dizziness again, though you manage to move closer to him, a frown pulling at your features as you tut, so you hear Murray’s humourlessly chuckled reply.

“Oooh, hoooo, you’re both in for quite a day.”

“Why, you fuckin’ asshole?”

“Let’s just say you’re going to be feeling certain urges... or maybe you’re already feeling them?”

Hopper glances at you yet again before turning his back away from you again. You hiss and move closer, brushing against him, which just makes you both grimace because there’s the electric current again. You try to stay as close as possible without touching him.

“Just tell me what’s fuckin’ goin’ on, Murray.”

“The best and most polite thing to call it would be an aphrodisiac.”

You frown as you glance up at Hopper, but he’s just staring at the wall.

“What? Why the fuck do you have something like this, Murray?”

“I was going to dilute it to sell in certain markets.”

“As what?”

“An aphrodisiac, dumbass.”

As Hopper snarls and opens his mouth, you grab the phone, your fingers brushing together making your stomach flip and something clench inside you.

Holding the phone to your ear, you swallow before exhaling a breath and murmuring, “What do we do, Murray? How do we stop feeling awful?”

He sighs, and you’re surprised and also slightly unsettled by his tone softening a little. “There’s not much you can do, except what you have wanted to do for a long time that neither of you will admit.”

Before you can speak, Hopper calls, even though he’s right beside you, “And what the hell does that mean?”

“Fuck each other!”

Your mouth drops open as you think your heart stops, and Hopper freezes beside you.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean—”

“No, Murray, I mean,” you quickly cut him off, rubbing at your damp forehead as you lick your dry lips, your cheeks burning. “What did you, why would we need to, uhm, do that?”

"It’s the only way to ease the aches and pains, honey, that—”

“Pain?”

You’re aching, yes, but you wouldn’t say you’re in pain.

“Stop interrupting me, Jesus...” You press your lips together at his exasperated sigh, before he takes a breath. “The pollen from that flower is like an instant aphrodisiac. If it comes into contact with your skin, that’s it, kiddos, you’re horny. I was diluting it so it’s less lethal, hence why it was in that jar marinating in that liquid. I’m assuming you got some of it on you when you oh so cleverly broke it for no reason?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t mean to—”

“What did I say about interrupting? Depending on how much you got on you, you’re gonna feel hot, then your whole body’s gonna ache, then’ll come the urges and the pain, and once those hit, hooo... so you two had better get to it.”

You feel like you’re having some kind of a fever dream. Rubbing your forehead again, you close your eyes for a few moments as you almost trip over your words, “What, hang on, w-what do you mean by lethal, what happens if we don’t, you know, do anything? It’ll just wear off, won’t it?”

Murray’s silent.

Oh... this is bad.

“C’mon, Murray, answer her.” Hopper’s sudden voice makes you jump.

There’s a quiet sigh. “You gotta take care of each other, together, or... or you’ll die.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Murray speak in an entirely gentle tone.

You don’t know what stuns you more; that, or his words.

“... What.” Your voice is so quiet.

Hopper is silent.

“I don’t know how much you were exposed to but no matter how much, the need and the pain, if nothing is done, can get so bad that your organs start to fail and shut down. If it was just a little, it’ll take longer, if it was a lot then I’d say it’s only a matter of time.”

“No, it... it was just a little. Few splashes. I think.” Your voice sounds far away to your own ears.

“Well, you’ve got some time, then. But it’s gonna be uncomfortable so get to it.”

“Right... Thanks, Murray.” You place the phone down, feeling so far out of your body, hanging up before he can say another word.

Silence.

You look up at Hopper as he clears his throat and moves away, being very careful not to brush against you, his hand running through his hair again. As he sits down in the armchair, you sit on the edge of the bed opposite, staring at the floor.

It’s... it’s... You don’t have the word for it. Wild. Outlandish. Crazy.

“He could be lying, right.” You look up at Hopper as he speaks, meeting his gaze. “He could be mad that we broke somethin’ of his and is just makin’ this all up.”

“Yeah,” is all you can think to say.

“This could just be a reaction to it.”

“Yeah...” You shrug after a moment, blowing out a breath. “Pretty fucking bizarre thing to make up.”

“Well, that’s Murray.”

You both fall silent as he stares at the wall and you stare at the bed. It’s got a patchwork blanket on it, all red squares with other panels of red floral designs. It reminds you of the damn flower. It’s like it’s taunting you. As are the beads of sweat sliding down your spine. And the new, faint, throbbing in your cunt.

You believe Murray.

It’s... wild and bizarre and you don’t understand it at all but, yes, you believe him. Your lips are suddenly dry, either from the realisation or the flower, and you lick them as you lift your gaze to Hopper. He’s still staring so intently at the wall, hands gripping the armrests.

His eyes flick to you as you speak gently.

“I think we should stay the night. Until this wears off. Don’t want to infect anyone else, if that’s possible.”

He nods curtly, expressionless. “Okay.”

Thankfully, Joyce has El for the night, Hopper having asked her to take her in case you both stayed longer than you thought you would, so that’s one less thing. You think about saying that out loud to him, then swiftly decide against it. Of course he’ll already thought about that, will probably take offence at you asking and think it implies you think he hasn’t.

You hate the silence of the room, though, hate the space it provides to think, so you continue instead with, “We’ll just... ride this shit out. It was only a few drops. We’ll be fine.”

Hopper may be expressionless, but what you can’t see are his blunt nails digging into the fabric of the chair. 

“Okay.”

—

It was a mistake, turning the TV on.

It’s too loud, too bright, but, fuck, you need the distraction. Your eyes are fixed on it like you’re possessed, and your shirt is soaked, sticking to your skin. Uncomfortable. Your skin is slick, you can feel sweat sliding down your face, arms, back. A loud commercial comes on and you grab the TV remote, turning it off as a wild burst of irritation suddenly flashes through you.

Focus on the room. Two double beds. Bare desk. Mini fridge. Bathroom. Standard motel room. Boring. Plain. Dull. So dull. Think about how dull it is.

It doesn’t work. It hasn’t been working for the last twenty minutes. Has it been twenty minutes? Longer? Less? You don’t know and you don’t want to know. Your body is aching, not only physically but with need, like you’ve never, ever felt before. You feel almost drunk, too, unchallenged words on the tip of your tongue, your brain doing the bare minimum to stop them from coming out... but they’re not just words, they’re pleas.

Touch me.

Kiss me.

Fuck me.

Your eyes dart to Hopper. He’s not moved but his shirt is soaked, too, the hair on his chest, peeking out the top of the grey, flannel button down, damp. That hair... You stare at it. How far down does it go... What would it feel like if you ran your fingers through it...

Your pussy clenches around nothing and tears start to sting at your eyes.

Fuck, I need to be touched.

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, thick with unshed tears. “Hop’, I feel awful.”

A muscle in his jaw moves. “It’s just a reaction to whatever it is—”

“Yeah, and what if it’s the kind of reaction he was talking about?”

Hopper finally looks at you, brow dipping. “You believe him?”

You hate the way he says it, all disbelieving, making you feel like you’re an idiot. 

“Yeah, I do. Why would he lie, especially about something like this? Yes, he’s a dick, but he’s not this much of a dick. He’s more likely to just rip into us and go on and on than make something up.”

“You can’t say that, you don’t know him.”

Brushed off. Again.

Your chin rises slightly, meeting a challenge you might be imagining. “I’ve known him long enough.”

His jaw moves as he arches an eyebrow. “Oh, you hang out all the time do you? You best pals, know everythin’ about him?”

“No, it just doesn’t seem like him—”

“Doesn’t seem like your good pal Murray? How would you know? You can’t just make assumptions like that, he is a—”

The words lash out of you. “Oh, just shut the fuck up, Hopper.”

He pauses, lips still parted, his own words dying on his tongue... until new ones return, his eyebrows raising as his head tilts. “... Excuse me?”

Anger feels good, it channels some of this increasingly restless energy swirling inside you. “Just shut up, you’ve been a real asshole all week, all month, all the time I’ve God damn known you, actually—”

“You didn’t think I was an asshole at the Christmas party.”

You freeze, staring at him.

Last year’s Station Christmas party.

Why did he bring that up.

Was he thinking about that.

You know he was thinking about that.

Because you’ve been thinking about it, too, minutes earlier, intently. It had suddenly come rushing back to you, his hands on your waist, your lips on his, tongues stroking at each other, the moaned sigh you’d released as he’d pressed against you.

You’d both been drunk, though, and lonely and alcohol makes you horny so you’d wanted him to kiss you and he’d spent the last hour before it looking like he’d wanted to, too, your eyes constantly finding each other, looking, really looking, and then you’d just bumped into each other as you’d come out of the bathroom, but it seemed like he’d almost been waiting for you and then you’d talked, no, you’d flirted, he liked your dress, you liked his comically festive tie, and you were both laughing, your hands somehow on each other, maybe to steady yourselves, and then you’d... then you’d kissed.

Neither of you had brought it up, ever, until now. You’d been so horribly hungover the next day that you hadn’t even remembered it until late in the evening and you’d felt so embarrassed. You’d fretted for the rest of the night, wondering if you’d ruined your friendship and a relationship that meant so much to you, but when you’d gone into work the following Monday he hadn’t said a thing, hadn’t even looked at you differently. You’d been so incredibly relieved, but it had come back to you every now and then; how good his lips had felt, how passionate the kiss was, how his hands had felt on you.

All this time you’d thought he had just forgotten it... and it appeared that wasn’t the case at all. 

Your already warm face becomes warmer.

“I was drunk.”

He’s got a fucking smug look on his face, like a fucking petty bastard.

“You kissed me.”

“I did not.”

“You did, you pulled me in.”

“Oh, just shut up, Hopper, it doesn’t matter or count anyway because we were drunk.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I saw the way you were lookin’ at me—”

“Why does it matter so much to you?” you snap, staring at him.

He pauses, the smug look quickly fading. Then, he shrugs, the corners of his mouth turning down. “It doesn’t.”

“Good, shut up, then.”

Silence descends.

And you fucking hate it. At least while snapping at one another you don’t think about how your panties are now soaked and you just want to feel some fingers against your cunt and a cock deep inside you...

A strained groan slips from your lips.

“You okay?” he mumbles, and you blow out a harsh breath.

“No, I’m not, I just—”

Oh, fuck.

You were just about to say it. You were just about to ask him to fuck you. Rolling your neck, your breaths slightly shorter, ragged, you lick your dry lips again.

What the fuck do I do, I’m literally about to ask my boss, my friend, the absolute pain in my ass to fuck me so I don’t, possibly, die.

Then, it comes to you.

“... You just what—”

“Just need the bathroom,” you cut him off exasperatedly, every intonation of his voice prickling your skin, and not in an entirely unpleasant way.

“Jesus, fine,” he mutters, and you hope he doesn’t notice how quickly you turn your back to him as you stand, striding towards the wooden door to the bathroom.

Closing it firmly behind you and turning the lock, you step back from it, releasing a breath that has your shoulders relaxing minutely. You catch your reflection in the mirror to your left and release another breath at your expression; sweaty, tense, and, yes, there’s a trace of panic in your eyes.

Just do it. Do it then you’ll stop thinking about it and then it’ll be over and you’ll feel okay.

Your fingers, seemingly of their own accord, move to your jeans, fumbling with the button and zip. In your haste, the zip catches on the material and tears fill your eyes again.

Oh, come on, come on, come on, please...

You don’t realise you’re murmuring the words out loud, so fixated on what your fingers are doing. Finally after a moment or so you can shove them down, your panties with them, and then you’re spreading your legs as one hand braces against the door and the other slides between your pussy lips.

You can just about muffle the moan that falls from your mouth as your finger tips glide back and forth over your clit, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Oh, fuck...

It feels heavenly, unlike any pleasure you’ve felt before from a first touch. You’re dripping, too, so soaking wet that you can hear it as your fingers quicken their pace... but it’s not enough.

How is it not enough?

Tears are slipping out of the corners of your eyes as you grit your teeth, a need so desperate coursing through you that it’s painful.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck... Why isn’t it working?

You slip two fingers inside your pussy, hoping filling yourself even a little will help but... no. It just makes you crave a cock inside you even more, increasing the aching that’s running through your entire body.

Oh, please, come on—

Two gentle knocks sound against the door. You freeze again, mouth open as your fingers stay buried inside you.

A throat clears on the other side, and then Hopper speaks, voice slightly muffled.

“Hey, uh... I’m sorry for snappin’, and for my shitty attitude, I... I know I haven’t been the best to be around lately...”

His words just become sounds as a kind of white-noise, ringing starts in your head.

Oh, no, no, no... No...

Your cunt is throbbing. You can’t help but think about him murmuring those apologies in your ear as his cock thrusts slow and deep inside you, as he tells you he’ll make it all up to you, everything, that you feel so good around his cock and he wants to make you feel so good all the time...

As your hand drops and you straighten, you don’t think you have absolute control of your body anymore. 

And you don’t fucking care.

Unlocking and yanking the door open, you instantly meet Hopper’s gaze, watching him blink as he abruptly silences whatever he was saying.

“Woah, you okay?”

How is he so normal? Yes, he’s sweating, profusely, but that’s it, seemingly. What a sight you must look in comparison. You watch his gaze travel down you, settling on your jeans and panties that are around your knees. His eyes dart back up to yours, and you watch his slick throat bob as he swallows hard.

“What the hell you doin’.”

You can hear your own breathing, ragged, short. Staring at him, you don’t know if it’s sweat or tears running down your cheeks.

“Hop’, I need you to touch me.”

It’s as if you’ve just asked him to detonate a bomb. His eyes widening, his mouth moves but nothing comes out for quite a few moments.

“I... Hey, now, hang on—”

“Please.” At any other time you might have been embarrassed for sounding so tragically desperate. “I tried, I tried to touch myself and it didn’t work, I’m aching so bad, please—”

“Sweetheart—”

That nearly has your knees weakening, a faint sound emitting from the back of your throat. He swallows again at hearing it and runs a hand down his mouth, shaking his head.

“I mean—”

“Fuck, Hop’, please. Don’t you feel it, too? I feel like, my, my, my whole body is just in pain, it fucking hurts, Hop’.”

You don’t know whether he feels it, too, or he’s just pitying you, because confliction is rife across his face.

And then he takes a step back, and he might as well have punched you in the stomach with the gasped breath that releases from you.

No, no, no, no...

“Hop’...”

He takes another step back, unable to stop his gaze from flicking down to where your hands are pushing your jeans and panties down and off, your shoes with them, kicking them aside. Then, he looks away, so sharply and suddenly, his fingers flexing by his sides.

“I can’t.”

“Why.”

You can’t think of any reason that would be damn good enough right now.

Hopper can’t look at you as he shakes his head again. “It’s not right, you don’t want this, it’s just the flower—”

“I want this, I want you, Hop’, I need you...” You’ve stepped towards him, your hands on his chest, sliding over his damp shirt, fisting it in your hands. “... I need you inside me...”

His jaw is so tight, his whole body is, you can feel his muscles underneath your hands, and his breathing is harsher. He raises a hand, which you don’t notice is shaking until he places it on one of your forearms. You wait for him to try and pull it away, but he just grips it lightly.

“You... You don’t want me really, this, this isn’t right—”

“I do, I do...” Your chin lifts and your lips brush against his jaw, and you swear you hear him groan quietly. You cling onto it, even if it isn’t real, and the words tumble out of you. “... I’ve thought about you before, inside me, making me cum, I’ve fucked myself imagining it was you before, so many times, please, Hop’, I’m begging you...”

He must have groaned because now his head is tilted against yours, lips against your cheekbone. His thumb is brushing against your inner wrist, too, so lightly. You press against him... and feel it.

His cock straining against his jeans.

Maybe it’s not just you, then. The arm he isn’t gripping moves, your hand dropping to settle on his thigh, your fingers caressing.

“Please, Hop’...” you whisper.

You know he groans this time, his lips so close to your ear. You know he’s seconds from crumbling, too, his hips angling towards your hand, his hand sliding from your wrist to your bicep, head turning closer towards yours, lips inches away—

Then, he freezes, a breath hissing out through his teeth.

He doesn’t move away but, staring at him, you can see the confliction return and even some anger that washes over his features.

“Hop’—”

“This isn’t the way I wanted it to be.”

You pause, lips parted so your harsh breaths can escape audibly. He hadn’t wanted to say that. He’d hissed the words out, eyes unable to meet yours, in fact he’s now closed them; regret swirling inside him.

But you can only think about one thing right now. 

You’re shaking with relief and anticipation. “... You’ve thought about me, too, then.”

A statement, not a question.

His eyes open, finding yours. “Yeah.”

You relish every word you say. “Then fuck me like you’ve wanted to.”

Any last restraint he has crumbles.

And he must have be in just as much pain as you because it happens in mere seconds.

Hopper’s hand grips the back of your head, holding you close and tight against him as his lips crash against yours. A combination of a sob and a moan emits from the back of your throat as you grip at his shirt, desire burning through your veins. His other arm wraps around your lower back and part of your brain is grateful for his strong grip because then he’s suddenly turning you and walking you back towards the closest bed.

The backs of your legs knock against it and you fall back on the soft covers, and it’s like he didn’t let you go at all as he’s already on top of you, one arm by the side of your head, the hand of the other resting on your torso, fingers splayed. One leg is between yours to hold himself up and your brain is working so fast, trying to find any way to soothe what your body is crying out for, that it takes you a moment to initiate its plan. Shifting down, your back arching with the movement, you start to rock your bare cunt against his thigh. The moaned cry you release is swallowed by his mouth, but he gives a groan in return.

“Fuck...” he hisses, feeling how wet you are as you’ve already soaking through his jeans.

The material is rough but that just makes it more heavenly against your swollen, aching clit and folds. Gripping his biceps, your lips tear from his as you tip your head back with a loud moan, eyes closed tightly. It’s not enough but it still feels so fucking good.

It takes you a few moments to realise he’s pushed your shirt and bra up, and his lips instantly descend upon your hard nipples, kissing, licking, sucking, pulling with his teeth slightly.

Tears are sliding down your cheeks in relief and a smile is pulling at your lips because—

“Yes...” you gasp, fingers curling tightly into his hair, tugging at his scalp.

His hips jerk as you do, and his grunts tell you just how much he likes it. So you do it again, and again, and again... and realise he’s grinding his hips against your thigh, just like you’re doing to him.

“Fu-uck...” he growls against your chest, his mouth moving in a deliciously sloppy way up your skin to your neck.

You whine as he kisses you there, your head tipping back, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

It’s so, so fucking good... but it’s still not enough.

“Hop’, need more...”

“Shh, don’t worry, baby, I know...”

How can he string words together? You had just about managed to breathe yours out.

What delicious words they were, though.

You must have done something in response to them, bucked your hips a certain way or made a sound, you don’t quite know because your mind is starting to feel like liquid, because he’s suddenly smiling now.

A lazy, smug smile that makes you clench.

Gazing down at you, his hands splay across your waist, and he presses his thigh a little harder against your cunt, which has your back arching.

“You like when I call you baby, huh? When I talk to you?”

“Yeah…” is all you can so eloquently answer with.

“That’s good to know.”

How is he capable of this much talking? Does the pollen enhance sexual characteristics that are already there?

Whatever it does, you can’t think on it much further because the hand on your waist is now travelling down your stomach, and you’re about to complain at his thigh suddenly disappearing when they’re now replaced by his long fingers sliding over your cunt.

“Oh, fuck…” you gasp as he groans, your eyes falling shut.

“Jesus, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet, you’re fuckin’ dripping…”

You don’t even bother trying to respond. Gripping at his shoulders, all you can do is moan as three of his fingers drag up and down your folds. When they move over your clit, you don’t know whether it’s a sob or a moan that falls from your open mouth. Either way, pure pleasure courses through you. Maybe at any other point you would have cum right there and then from how intense it is, but you need something inside you. Whatever is happening, that’s all you know.

“God, Hop’, please…”

“I know, baby…”

And as he says the words, he pushes two of his fingers inside you.

“Yes…” you cry, your hips pushing down so they slide all the way inside you, but if you’d been coherent enough to you would have bet he would have done so anyway.

“Jesus…” he hisses, tone strained, and he instantly starts to slip them in and out of you, sinking them in as far as he can each time. “… You’re so fuckin’ wet…”

He groans again when you clench down on his fingers, and it seems to break whatever kind of resolve he was still holding onto, however the hell he was holding on to it.

A pitiful whine of protest escapes you when his fingers pull out, and he just nods swiftly, strands of hair falling over his forehead as he rises up onto his knees.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, just let me… Fuck…”

Lifting your head, you watch him shift backwards until his boots can touch down on the ground, but it’s only a moment before he’s kneeling on the floor and then his hands are wrapping around your thighs, widening them, and then he’s lowering his head and then… and then…

Your mouth drops open wider as your hands dart to his hair, plunging in once again as his tongue licks a long, wide path up your folds.

“Just needed to fuckin’ taste you…” he mumbles against you, the vibration of his voice making you mewl.

If his hands weren’t keeping your thighs apart you would have wrapped them around his head. All you can do, though, is rock your hips and grind against his tongue. He growls with pleasure, and just as you inhale a breath to beg for more, he pushes three fingers inside of you.

Three.

Three of his thick, long fingers slide inside you with no resistance or pain at all, and you throw your head back with a loud cry as you clench around them.

“Fu-uck...” he groans, curling them a little, stroking inside you. “... Look how fuckin’ easy that was, huh... How fuckin’ easy are you gonna take my cock, baby? Huh? Is it gonna slide right in? Fill you all up on the first stroke?”

Again, at any other time, you would have cum right there and then, but... somehow it’s just not enough.

Gritting your teeth, because while it’s not enough, the pleasure is still so fucking good, you release a sound between a sob and a moan.

“Hop’... Fucking need more...”

“You want my cock in you, sweetheart, huh?”

“Please.”

He groans again, and then you hear it.

He’s stroking his cock in swift, firm movements, and you want to be doing that, you want to be touching him, tasting him, pleasuring him, and—

“Want you to cum on my tongue, wanna fuckin’ taste you,” he mumbles against your pussy, lapping at you again, and you have to take in a few ragged breaths before you can speak.

“... Can’t... Not enough... Need your cock...”

“Christ...” He exhales a breath that closely resembles another growl. “... Do you know what hearin’ those words does to me, huh? Oh, you’re gonna cum on my cock, baby, but I’ve fuckin’ dreamed about you cumming in my mouth so you know what you’re gonna do?” He lifts his head, and you open your half-lidded eyes to look at him. “... You’re gonna cum on my tongue.”

And lowering his head again, he sucks hard at your aching clit.

And maybe it is just enough, because your back is arching and you’re pulling at his hair and he’s having to tighten his grip on your thigh and tears of relief or maybe it’s beads of sweat are sliding down your cheeks because yes, yes, yes...

You don’t realise you’re chanting the word as your climax builds, and when it rolls through you, a blissful serenity follows it...

That lasts all of a few seconds before you’re squirming again, the throbbing in your core somehow sharper, more desperate.

Hopper, however, is sucking and licking at you still, lapping up your release as he moans, an arm moving to settle over your lower stomach. Opening your eyes, you gaze down at him and see his hand working over his cock still and you want to move and touch him but his arm is keeping you down and his tongue is continuing to move so deliciously against your cunt.

And then he’s releasing short, sharp groans, and his hips are jerking and his hand is starting to slow, and then he cums, and you can only watch as it trickles down his fingers.

No, no, no, you want to feel him cum, you want it inside you—

He lifts his head, licking his lips, and the hunger still burning in his eyes steals your breath away.

He rises, and you can only watch with ragged breaths as he kicks his boots away and pushes his trousers and boxers off. His dick is still hard, pressed flat against his stomach, tip red and weeping.

“You want my cock? You want my fuckin’ cock inside you...?” he’s murmuring, and your eyes dart up to meet his as you release a breath.

“God, fuck, yes, Hop’...”

“C’mere...” He’s suddenly on top of you, then, cupping the top of your head with his large hand as he props himself up on his elbow. It eases some more of the pain a little, having him crowd you, feeling his skin on yours, but you both know exactly what you need.

His eyes are boring down into yours, and your nails are digging into shoulders, and then, finally, you feel the tip of his cock against your cunt.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck, inside me...” you’re breathing, pleading, half out of your mind with need as you nod.

And then, without any more teasing or talking, his thick cock slides all the way inside you.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you cry out and your back arches. Pure pleasure and relief and bliss overwhelms you, and you haven’t even cum on him yet. In fact, he can’t move yet because you’re clenched so tightly around him, your slick walls gripping at him like your cunt doesn’t want him to ever leave.

His breaths are short, sharp, strained, and his hand has moved to rest under your head, a gesture that, at any other time, you would have recognised as tender.

“Oh, fuck, baby... Fuck... Feel every inch of my dick... You feel it, huh?”

Words aren’t possible anymore, so you can only nod, eyes still shut tight, and your breaths fall away into moans as he kisses at your neck, all of them sloppy, uncoordinated, needy, and you suddenly realise he’s murmuring to you.

“... Wanna fuckin’ move, wanna make you feel so fuckin’ good, wanna cum in your wet cunt and feel you cum on me, want you screamin’ my fuckin’ name...”

As if his words were the key, you unclench around him with a whine of desire, and, with a hiss, he instantly draws his hips back and then snaps them forward, sinking fully into you once again.

Fucking lighting zips through your body, you’ve never felt anything like it.

He must feel it, too, because he doesn’t stop for one moment, drawing all the way back and thrusting right back into you to the hilt, each time harder than the last and, distantly, you can hear the headboard smacking against the wall.

“... Good girl... Good fuckin’ girl...” he’s growling through gritted teeth, and you realise you are because you’re doing exactly as he wanted.

You’re shouting his name amongst your moans.

And not even just ‘Hop’ or ‘Hopper’; ‘Jim’ is falling from your lips, and each time he hears it his hips snap forward just that little bit harder.

“Yeah, baby, good fuckin’ girl... Good girl... Fuckin’ Christ... Can you hear how fuckin’ wet you are? Listen to how fuckin’ good you take my cock, baby... Take it... Fuck, take it...”

Nevermind listening, it’s how he feels inside you that’s making sparks skitter across your skin. He fills and stretches you perfectly, dragging and sliding against your sensitive walls deliciously each time. You’re not going to last much longer, the last coherent part of your mind knows, and it nearly makes you sob with both relief and dread.

You never want this fucking feeling to end, it’s all so good, so fucking good but you know it’s just going to feel even better when you cum, when you feel him cum.

Managing to open your eyes, you find his gaze still on you, flicking from your parted lips to your chest.

“... Cum...” you whisper, voice hoarse, and you have to swallow before you try again. “... Cum inside me, please... Want to feel you cum... Fill me with your cum...”

“Yeah?” His jaw is tight, eyes boring into your own again. “... Wanna feel my fuckin’ cum fillin’ you up, baby, huh? Want my fuckin’ cum leaking out of you?”

“Yes”, you chant over and over and over breathlessly, gaze fixed on his, unable to look away because his hips are stuttering in their rhythm, just slightly, but enough that you know.

He’s close.

“Cum, cum for me...” you start to plead now, “... Wanna feel you cum, cum inside me, Jim, please... I need it...”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ need it, baby?” he grunts, voice low, gravelling.

“Yeah, give it to me, please...”

“Take it, fuckin’ take it, take my cum...” He groans sharply then, mouth dropping open. “... Fuck...” His hand darts out from under your head and grips at the bedcovers, and with a few more thrusts, he then buries deep inside you and cums with a shout, eyes shut tight.

And euphoria spreads through you.

You feel his cum spill inside you, and the pleasure that courses through you from the sensation sends you spiralling into your own release. Gripping at his arms, nails digging in probably to the point of pain, you throw your head back and cry out.

It’s unlike any bliss you’ve ever felt before.

For a few moments you may even black out as it rolls through you in wave upon wave upon wave.

Hopper feels closer, as well, as if he’s collapsed slightly but just about managed to hold himself up in time. His lips are against your jaw, and you can feel his panted breaths, his lightly trembling frame.

Oh, you’re trembling, too, can hear it in your own breaths.

At least you can try and calm your heart rate, now, because it must be over, it has to be. It’s been done now, it’s...

It’s...

It’s...

It’s still there. That strange energy, whatever the hell it is. It’s not as intense now, but it’s there. Enough so that you lick your lips and gaze up at him, finger tips gliding down his arms.

“Hop’... I can still feel it.”

It’s a few moments before his eyes open, and when his gaze meets yours, and you realise he’s still hard inside you, you know before he speaks what he’s going to say.

“... Me, too.”

Neither of you speak, or move, just gaze at each other. Enough sense has returned that you take these few moments to breathe, but not enough that when those moments do start to stretch on... you just can’t help yourself.

Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you start to slowly roll your hips.

His eyes fall shut with a guttural groan, and your involuntary mewl answers him.

When his eyes then snap open, you also can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“You not satisfied yet?” he murmurs, voice dangerously low, and you shake your head as your tongue glides across your lips.

“Fuck me again, Jim.”

His thumb and forefinger are suddenly gripping your chin, and his lips hover over yours as he exhales a breath.

“It not enough that my cum is fillin’ you up? You need some fuckin’ more?”

“Yeah...” you breathe, trying to lift your chin higher so you can kiss him, but he holds firm.

“You want me to fuck you again, sweetheart?”

“Please, Jim...”

His lips brush against yours, and it’s the lightest of touches, but it’s enough to have you moaning as you rock your hips again.

“Please...”

“Well, seein’ as you’ve been a good fuckin’ girl...”

Pulling back, he rises up onto his knees, and pulls out of you. You mewl softly at feeling empty now, but you’re instantly distracted by his hands gripping your thighs, keeping them parted wide, and the fact his eyes are fixed on your cunt.

“Fuck... Your pussy looks so pretty with my cum spilling out of it...”

Fucking hell.

“Hop’, please, fuck me, I need you again, I need your cock—”

“I know, baby, I know.” Your words have his gaze tearing away and returning to your own, and he releases your thighs with a groan.��“Turn over. On your stomach.”

You don’t need telling twice.

Except you have your own demand.

“Take your shirt off, I want to feel all of you.”

When his fingers fly to the buttons of it and start undoing them, then you roll over onto your front, resting your cheek against the covers.

You hear him toss it aside, and then his fingers are sliding down your back, over your ass and to your cunt. His fingertips caress your pussy lips lightly, gliding up and down, and your eyes fall shut at the gentle waves of pleasure that pulse through you. He’s toying with your mixed cum, gently pushing it back inside you and spreading it along your cunt.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, half in awe, half aroused.

Any other time you would have left him indulge himself for as long as he wanted, but the desperate need inside you is growing once more.

“Jim... Fuck me...”

You’ve only just finished pleading him, when his cock sinks inside you, this time in a slow, long thrust.

As your mouth drops open in a high moan, your fingers gripping onto the covers, he releases a long groan, eyes fixed on his dick disappearing inside you.

“Fuck, look at that...” His hands grip your ass, spreading you open wider. “... Take me so fuckin’ good... So fuckin’ good...”

Your eyes nearly roll back when you close them, as he starts to repeatedly give you slow, long thrusts, watching his own cock spread your soaked lips apart. You’re nearly delirious with pleasure, cunt pulsing around him, and when you feel him move, you can’t even open your eyes.

He settles over you, holding himself up on his forearm while his other hand slides under your neck and grips it gently, making you lift your head, tipping it back a little.

And now his lips are right against your ear.

“Fucking perfection... Like you were fuckin’ made for my cock, huh, sweetheart?”

You can only moan in reply as his thrusts speed up a little.

The position you’re now in somehow makes it feel more delicious than before, like his cock is somehow filling you even more. You now focus on the lewd sounds caused by how wet your pussy is, too, and it’s so lewd, so filthy and hot that it’s making your stomach clench.

You must clench around him again, too, because he inhales a ragged breath before speaking.

“You gonna cum for me again?”

“Yeah...” you breathe, mind starting to turn blank.

“Gonna cum on my hard cock? Soak it and the fuckin’ bed?”

“Please...”

It feels more intense this time, the mounting pleasure, and your fingers twist into the bed covers as you try and ground yourself. He’s murmuring into your ear still, hand on your throat still gentle.

“... what a good fuckin’ girl you are, taking my cock so good, gonna take my cum again, huh? How many times can I cum in this pretty little pussy, how many times can I fill you up until you’re satisfied, huh...”

It’s all too much, too good...

Your orgasm crashes over you.

Your brow dipping, your mouth dropping open, a scream is pulled from your throat, and the world goes dark.

—

Your eyes snap open.

Oh, fuck.

There’s a slight pounding in your head, the beginnings of a headache most likely from dehydration.

Annoying.

When did I last have a drink, though? Or eat? Must’ve been...

Oh.

It all comes flooding back to you.

That... That actually happened?

Releasing a soft groan, you lift a heavy hand to try and rub at your forehead—

Another hand catches it, and the space beside you dips slightly.

“Hey, hey, woah, you okay?”

Your gaze darts to the source, and you find Hopper sat there, concern etched across his features. You don’t have time to think about it or answer, though, as he swiftly releases your hand and a glass of water suddenly appears before you.

“Here, drink this.”

Sitting up a little, you drink deeply, your throat dry, raw, actually, and the entire contents is nearly gone when you finally lower it, gasping a breath in.

He takes the glass from you, placing it on the bedside table, and as you lick your lips and adjust against the pillows, he watches you, fingers rubbing against his mouth.

Clearing his throat after a few moments, he ask quietly, “You okay?”

Is it too soon to tell him that was probably the best fuck of your life?

Raising your eyebrows, a light smile pulls at your lips. “Yeah. A little sore, but...” Your smile fades as he looks down at his hands, his jaw moving. “... Oh, Hop’, I didn’t—”

He can’t look at you, his head shaking. “I am so... I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, no, don’t be.” Leaning forward, you place your hand on his arm, hating that he stiffens. “We couldn’t control ourselves—”

“I could’ve, I could’ve held out longer, I could’ve locked myself in that fucking bathroom, I just...” He looks fucking devastated.

Shifting closer, you wrap your other hand around his arm, tightening your grip. “You shouldn’t be sorry. I mean it. I...” Well, it’s now or fucking never, and all things considered... “... I wanted it, Hop’. Even without that aphrodisiac thing. I wanted you. I have for a long time.”

Your face is burning and your heart is pounding but relief settles on your shoulders the moment you finish speaking.

His head turns towards you now, gaze darting to meet yours, searching it. “You... You’re not lyin’ to me?”

Your lips lifting again, you shake your head before murmuring, “No.”

Hopper exhales a breath, his hand setting over both of yours. “I’ve... Fuck, I’ve wanted you, too. Just... I imagined it going a little differently.”

You give a soft laugh as delight overwhelms you, and his thumb brushes against your skin. “Yeah, we really skipped the first date, didn’t we.”

“In the traditional sense.” He smiles as you laugh again, but it’s gone just as soon as it arrived. “... You sure you’re okay?”

You don’t care how foolish you look, with your tender smile, gaze openly filled with affection. Probably because his gaze is exactly the same.

“I am. Really. It’s a good sore.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your teeth graze over your lower lip. “I wouldn’t mind getting used to it.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’d hoped you’d say that...”

Cupping your cheek, he closes the gap between you and kisses you tenderly, the pad of his thumb brushing against your skin gently. It’s sweet, gentler than you had ever imagined him to be.

It’s perfect.

When his lips leave yours but he remains close, you smile again. “I guess we can give Murray a thorough review, then.”

He growls quietly as he brushes his nose against yours. “Don’t talk about that man right now...”

As he moves closer, laying you back on the bed, your arms slide around his neck and your smile widens.

“Yes, Chief.”

—

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Masterlist

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[httpskuzuu]

Softer

hola :D fyodor is alive - fyodor esta vivo I was thinking about making a masterlist or something like that, I don't know if when I upload this I will have it published or how I will do it

anyway, I really liked this and enjoyed writing it, it's longer than I usually post but Idk, by the way, I hated translating this, it was a pain in the ass, but that's what I get for joining a mostly English community ññññññññññññ-- well, this is mostly inspired by Sinner by TheBloodySadist, you can find it in Ao3 if you want to read it, I had an obsession with it a few months xd

jaja this has gone on too long, well, adiós adiós :p

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

sumary: You tried to escape and now you have to take the consequences, but you make something change in Fyodor... (juju, mistery >:p) Pt.2

tw: yandere behavior, kidnapping, failed escape attempt, explicit punishment, explicit violence, blood, broken bones, humiliation¿, manipulation, brainwashing, stockholm syndrome, reader needs therapy, stabbing, nudity, sedative, Fyodor is a fucking tw

You tremble under the weight of the boot on your ribs, you swear that at some point you hear them cracking along with an agonizing pain throughout your body.

The pressure on your body makes it impossible for you to breathe properly, which is a serious problem considering you are hyperventilating. Every breath burns your exhausted lungs and aggravates the pain.

You'd ask Fyodor to kill you already if it weren't for the fact that your throat is in a terrible condition from so much screaming and pleading.

"Well, I see I can't trust you, can I?" Despite the situation, Fyodor's tone provokes you inner anger, sounding so sarcastic. Something deep inside you tells you it's not sarcasm, it's concern, but you can't believe it, especially not coming from Fyodor.

You imagine that, if you had the strength at this moment, you would kill him with your own hands. You know well you wouldn't be able to, but it's pleasant to think about it.

"I do everything for you, and still you try to escape." He puts more pressure against your ribs and you've never felt as much pain as you do now. "You spoiled brat." He growls and his Russian accent becomes much thicker.

He removes his foot from your body and you can breathe. Relief courses through your veins and, out of pure instinct, you thank him for that act of kindness. He could have stretched it out longer, put more pressure on you and broken your ribs more, but he was merciful and gave you a break…. A break, you know that your punishment is not yet over.

You don't know yourself and your thoughts. One thing you have to hand it to Fyodor is that his training is really effective, but you're tougher than that, or at least you like to think so. Realistically, right now, you just want to curl up against him.

A kick in the side snaps you out of your thoughts, you moan and cry from the pain, your throat burning with fire. You never want to utter a sound again in your life after this.

"Aw, you poor thing… Does it hurt? Now you know how I feel every time you leave me." He's lying, you know that, but that doesn't take away the guilt that settles in your head free-form.

You shouldn't have run away, Fyodor isn't even that bad if you behaved: no gratuitous physical harm and he takes better care of you than you could ask of a kidnapper. You were an idiot, you deserved all this for not appreciating your life with Fyodor properly. God… Why did you try to escape in the first place? The Russian would always would catch you, you were just causing trouble.

Ignoring your destroyed throat, you decide to speak. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't try to escape again. Please give me another chance, I'll be good…"

Fyodor kneels down next to your agonized body. He puts his hand against your tear-stained cheek, at first you flinch, thinking he was going to hurt you more, but then you lean almost automatically against his cold hand.

You cry harder as you feel Fyodor's gentle touch, you don't quite understand what's wrong with you, you just know that you want to melt against his hand. You close your eyes and tremble. You want a hug from him, you know you shouldn't want that, that it's disgusting, he kidnapped you and hurt you, but at a time like this, when you've been disobedient, he's still showing you affection….

"Shh, it's okay, милый." He catches the falling tears with his thumb. "I know you're sorry, but your punishment isn't over yet." You automatically tense up and slowly open your eyes to look at the man in front of you, there is a smirk of superiority painted on his face, observing your pathetic appearance.

You don't dare open your mouth to complain because deep down you know very well that you deserve it, you deserve the pain for being so bratty and causing inconvenience to Fyodor. You accept what lies ahead of you and let Fyodor pull his hand away from you.

With his grip firmly on your hip, he guides you to turn around. You keep the cheek that was previously receiving the loving touch against the ground a thousand times colder than Fyodor.

You concentrate exclusively on the Russian's hands, it's just an idiotic attempt to ignore the pain all over your body. He pulls up your shirt, leaving your back bare against the cold, why is everything so cold all of a sudden? Fyodor is too, in a way he brings you peace of mind, it's like he's everywhere, even in the air…. What the hell are you thinking? You firmly believe you're delusional at this point, these are not your real thoughts, it's clear to you, he put all these idiotic ideas in your head and now you can't get them out. It's agonizing in a certain way.

The only thing you hear is your irregular breathing, if it wasn't for Fyodor's hand clamped on your hip, you would think you were alone right now, and you don't know if you would like that more or less.

Something sharpening presses against your upper back. Everything breaks down in a moment as Fyodor makes a straight cut across your entire back. It hurts horrendously, especially as the blood starts to spurt out. You start to feel dizzy and for a few moments you convince yourself you're going to pass out, but no, your body is still holding on, focused solely on Fyodor's hand.

"Breathe, моя любовь. It's just a cut." You repeat Fyodor's last sentence in your head like a mantra: it's just a cut, it's just a cut. He could have done it much worse to you, you were fine, just a cut.

You take comfort in closing your eyes hard and imagining that you are once again a child at the doctor's office, that you are simply having blood drawn for a blood test because you have not been feeling very well lately. You make a fist with your hand and clench it, digging your fingernails deep into your palm, it's as if you are clutching the hand of one of your parents for comfort. There is no more pain, it's okay, it's all right-

Another cut, this time horizontal, creates a cross on your back. You don't care, you're at the hospital, and you're safe, nothing will happen to you. It's just a cut.

Fyodor stabs the weapon into your side. You open your eyes wide as a torn scream comes out of your mouth.

Fuck it all, do you really deserve this? Have you been so horrible? You assume that Fyodor simply hates you, that he wants to torture you.

Fyodor pulls the weapon out of your body, you look out of the corner of your eye and the wound doesn't seem to be that bad, you thought it was deeper because of the pain, but no, it was something apparently superficial. You didn't want to know how much it would hurt if he had really stabbed you deeper.

Fyodor's voice right next to your ear startles you. "Sorry, was that too much? Did I hurt my little one too much?" That mocking tone again, but you hear a hint of love and concern, or so you assume. No, it's impossible for Fyodor to hate you, if he hated you there wasn't that hint of love, was there? If he hated you, he wouldn't say to you like that: my little one, his little one.

"I can't take it anymore! Please, Fyodor!" He leaves a chaste kiss on the back of your neck, and you cry disconsolately, you don't know why, but you do know it's not because of the pain, the pain doesn't matter anymore.

"You can." Fyodor's voice is the ultimate authority right now, and if he says you can take it, it's because you can. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

After those words you instantly panic, you desperately shake your head, of course you don't want to disappoint him! You have to accept your punishment, it was your fault in the first place.

"Brace yourself, dear." Fyodor leaves a trail of kisses from the nape of your neck all the way down your back, above the vertical cut. You assume he's filled his lips with blood and hate yourself at the thought of how attractive he'd look like that.

A new cut interrupts your hatred. You scream, but nothing more, you can take it, for Fyodor….

It's just one cut.

You don't know how many cuts there are next, you are not able to count them. You don't feel your throat anymore, but miraculously it still works, your screams are still coming out of it, you are relieved because you still want to keep your voice to talk to Fyodor, to ask him to hold you.

Fyodor removes your shirt completely and lays it aside on the floor. He holds you firmly and helps you sit up, any movement is hell for your ribs, but you endure it by concentrating on your kidnapper, on his loving but steadfast touch.

You look at him dizzy, teary-eyed and shattered. He is smiling, you have not disappointed him. Your head hurts as you cry disconsolately against his chest again.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying now? Your punishment is over, I won't hurt you anymore."

"You…" You're unable to speak, it's too much at once, the pain and your thoughts coming together in a ball of discomfort. You shake your head and hug him tightly.

"Are you afraid?" You weakly shake your head. It's true that Fyodor scares you, especially on these occasions when he punishes you, but you're not crying about it now.

Funny, you don't know why you're crying, but you do know what you're not crying about.

Fyodor is silent, thinking about why you're crying. "Is it about the pain?" You deny again.

Fyodor hums thoughtfully. "If you don't tell me what it is, I can't help you." You ponder on that: does he want to help you? Is he serious?

You make the feeble attempt to gather your thoughts and speak. "It's just- I don't know" Your voice comes out shakier than you wish it would. "When you touch me… It feels so good, I don't deserve it, I don't-"

"Oh, I see… Aren't you crying because of something bad? Is it because it feels good?" You nod quickly, yes, that's as close as you feel. You're happy when it touches you, when it's good to you. Were you crying out of happiness? Well, you guess so, although it feels more depressing.

"It's okay, relax." He leaves a kiss in front, and it breaks you inside. "You've taken the punishment very well, come on, you deserve to be taken care of."

The process of getting up from the floor is horrible, not only because of the pain all over your body and your numb legs, but because your mind doesn't stop spinning around Fyodor's last sentence. It feels horrible and so good at the same time that your mind is only around one specific person.

He helps you up and you let him lean your useless body against his. He guides you through the house, being patient with your slow pace. He's mostly silent, except when he tells you how well you're doing or that not long to go. Since when did Fyodor know how to talk so pleasantly?

You reach the bathroom, he sits you on the toilet and turns on the bathtub faucet. While it is filling, Fyodor takes some pills out of a drawer that you have always found locked. You don't know what the pills are or what they're for, but he hands you one and you take it without question.

You let your head fall against Fyodor's stomach, even though he is standing upright he doesn't move an inch and lets you be comfortable, he strokes your hair and you sigh lovingly. You don't deserve it, but you need more of this Fyodor, the soft Fyodor who takes care of you and makes you feel good, what did you have to do in the future to keep it in this shape? If you need to be damaged for that, well, you are willing to do it.

"The tub is full." He warns and moves a little away from you, causing you to raise your head. You miss a little that he's touching you, even though he's only been separated of you for three seconds. He holds you under your armpits and helps you up. "I need you to stand up on your own, can you, дорогой?"

You try not to focus so much on Fyodor asking you if you could do it instead of just sending you the order, and focus on standing on your own.

The Russian undresses you completely, his hands are soft, and you feel them all over your body. They are so cold, and you are so cold too now that you are naked. You are vulnerable, now more than ever, and Fyodor's fixed gaze on you disturbs you. You are simply an easy prey to hunt, his prey.

He doesn't look like a hunter now, as much as his gaze is like knives stabbing through every spot he focuses on, you think he's not doing it on purpose. Fyodor doesn't know how to be nice, he never has. He knows how to be neutral: he can keep you alive and give you necessities, but he can't kiss you and keep you warm.

But there's something wrong with all this, he's being warm because since when are his hands so soft against your battered body? You need him, you need him so much it hurts, is this his way of being nice? Okay, fine, you accept it without complaint.

When he puts you in the tub you want to die, the cuts on your back burn at the contact of the water. You don't dare say a word at that or ask Fyodor to pull you out, you're afraid you'll upset him, that he'll get tired of you being so weak and whiny and stop being gentle. Fyodor could have left you lying on the cold floor, bleeding, but he didn't. You can't be an unbearable child to him.

The Russian starts washing your body, putting special emphasis on your cuts and the wound on your side. You look at his serious face with need, why were you only now realizing how handsome he was? Mmmh, you must have been blind before. He notices obviously your shy look on his lips and he smiles, that smile indicating that he was superior to you and despite that, he was still keeping you alive and forgiving of everything you did.

He approaches you and gives you the only thing you needed to be satisfied for today: a kiss. It reminds you of all the good things, strangely enough in those memories Fyodor also appears and disturbs you minimally.

You question yourself that, maybe, Fyodor does know how to be gentle.

This is the proof you need to know that now this was a new version, right? He kissed you. You feel a warmth spreading throughout your body, now it is warm, and his hands are warm too. There is a big change in temperature and it feels like heaven.

After that, Fyodor continued to wash you with special care, ignoring how your face might explode from how red it was.

The only thing that could crush the heat was tiredness, you almost fell asleep a couple of times, but you didn't want to fall asleep because it would be like wasting time with this soft Fyodor, what if tomorrow he returned to his serious and impassive face? You can't waste this time or you would regret it.

"Go to sleep, take it easy. I'll take you to bed when I'm finished." You looked at him as the most merciful being in the world. He cared about you…

You hold back your sobs for these acts of kindness, you don't want to cry anymore, not only to avoid possible discomfort in Fyodor, but for yourself, the headache is unbearable.

You let yourself fall asleep, with your head supported on your knees and Fyodor's soothing touch.

You had a nightmare which you don't remember, or don't want to remember. You wake up with your body held in Fyodor's arms, warm and gentle.

Since when did everything become so homey? Homey? Would that be the right word? Describing any situation involving Fyodor with that word doesn't feel natural to you.

You find it hard to feel your body, and your thoughts don't flow as quickly and aggressively as they used to. It's like being enveloped in a cloud, full of comfort and calmness.

You just feel something on your side, at the site of the shallow stab wound. You think maybe it's some bandage, but your limbs are asleep and too comfortable against Fyodor to move them to check. Otherwise, you feel nothing, only someone else's hand on your lower belly, it's extremely intimate in your perspective.

You turn your sleepy head and glance sideways at Fyodor. He seems calm, looking at you, his face is emotionless again and it scares you. You come to convince yourself that he is still the soft Fyodor, if he wasn't his hand wouldn't be on you, he still hasn't changed, you repeat that to yourself until you believe it.

"… Fyodor, do you know what?" Your voice comes out weak and hoarse, you wonder how soon your throat will heal. You're thankful you can't feel it well, so there's no pain anymore.

"Mmmh?"

"I think I love you."

"Do you?" There is a change, minuscule, but a change.

You nod and look away from his face, you can't stand it, no. There has been a change, you don't know in what. There's been a change, a change! Is it good or bad? You want to think it's a nice thing.

"You're different."

"I am? In what way?"

"You're softer, something nice."

"You're drugged, you don't talk sense."

"But you're different! Seriously, you never take care of me."

Silence rules the room and it hurts. Why did you talk? What idiocy, it's your fault everything that happens now, all your fault.

"You cried with happiness when I helped you sit up." Your gaze returns to the other.

"I know, so what? You want me to cry again?" There are no bad intentions behind your comment, there really aren't. You feel your brain empty, and you can't quite interpret the situation, what is Fyodor trying to tell you? Is he angry? Is he going to punish you again? It's exhausting to use your brain in this state, so you just give up and go with the flow.

"No, I don't want that." The silence stretches a little longer and, for just a few seconds, Fyodor looks away. He looks away. "I just… I thought maybe you'd be happier if I treated you good."

"Ah…" He wanted you to be happy? Really?

"I know I hurt you, but you know I only do it when you deserve it, don't you?" You nod and the cuts on your back burn for a few seconds. "Good. I really want you to be happy, with me."

You feel like at any moment the old Fyodor will appear through the door and say something like it was all a test, and then punish you for failing it. It's a horrible feeling, but you come to believe that it will seriously pass.

"So… Are you still going to be soft?"

"Yes, only if you are obedient in return."

Yes, yes, yes. He's going to keep being gentle. For some reason your chest hurts, and you sob, Fyodor has a few drops of surprise in his expression. You hide from his gaze and just focus on the yes, it's like releasing a horrible burden out of your body. You weren't afraid he was lying, something told you he wasn't, his expression maybe, or his voice, or….

"Are you crying with happiness now too?"

"I like the soft Fyodor…"

"Mmmh, that's good, isn't it?" He pulls you a little closer to his face and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. You'd like to kiss him in return, but you can't move. "I'll keep being soft then."

I swear all I could think about while writing this was to to send it all to hell and make these two fuck

maybe I will make a second part

[meatonfork]

HELLO!! I've got an idea (idk if anybody request it already or u already wrote it). Can you write about grim stealing clothes from the 141? And their reaction? IT WOULD BE AMAZING I SWEAR! THX <3 P.S YOUR STUFF IS SO CUTE AND PERFECT. KEEP UP THE WORK💕🫂💕

A Thief

————————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grim

warnings: none i believe

summary: grim gets caught read handed

————————————————————————————————————————

you’d always enjoyed winter. but, because of your small size, it was always harder for you get warm and stay that way.

the first time you’d ever stolen one of the task force’s articles of clothing was when you were stuck in the russian woods during winter.

you and ghost had been thrown into the field. alone. the mission actually went incredibly well considering it was tackled by a grumpy, closed off lieutenant, and a jittery, talkative, kid-sergeant.

the two of you were in and out- just like you’d been briefed to do so.

the issue? a giant fucking snowstorm that prevented evac.

the wind howled in your ear as you shouted over to ghost, “do you even know where you’re going?”

the wind pushed you back, but you prevailed. the cold nipped at your nose and cheeks. snow fell into your eyelashes, and your body was soaked from the wet.

“jus’ a bit further.” he was gruff, as usual, but even the loud wind couldn’t silence his chattering teeth.

you were severely underdressed for the weather. just a thermal shirt, your cargo pants, boots, a fleece quarter-zip, and your tac gear. ghost was no better off than you.

the small cabin came into view after roughly 20 more minutes of silence.

ghost rushed in, clearing it, before pulling you by your bicep.

the cabin wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t exactly what you had hoped. luckily, there were two bedrooms. but, other than that, there wasn’t much. a kitchen, a bathroom, and a random couch.

“it’s not much, but it’ll do.”

the giant next you hummed in agreement, “go get in the shower. you’ll get hypothermia, kid.”

you almost argued, saying he could’ve gone first, but your body was shaking so badly you almost couldn’t stand.

you sighed with a nod and made your way to the bathroom. stripping yourself down to nothing and turning on the shower. the water was heavenly even if it wasn’t that warm. you stood there, letting it warm up your limbs. your red fingers finally gaining some feeling.

a knock on the door about 5 minutes later sounded through the room.

“yeah?”

“want me to take your clothes to dry them off? built a fire.”

“go for it!”

ten minutes later, you walked out with sweats and a t-shirt on. a towel bunched in your hands, with your head tilted to the side- drying your hair off. goosebumps raised on your skin as the steam rolled out of the bathroom behind you. looking around the small house, you found ghost crouched in front of the fire, warming up his hands.

“hey, big guy. bathroom’s all yours” you offered a small smile when his dark eyes met yours.

“thanks, grim.” he stood and made his way to shower before he paused right next to you.

you were about to ask him what was wrong before he stalked back the way he came, riffled through his pack, and tossed something at your face.

you squeaked as you caught it, dropping the towel.

you were about to scold him, but the soft material of a hoodie stopped you in your tracks. you offered your lieutenant a questioning look.

“you’re fucking shivering, grim. put it on.” his voice was gruff. and with that, he walked into the bathroom without a word.

later that night as you both sat in front of the fire, backs resting on the couch, ghost voiced out, “i’m not gettin’ that back, am i?”

“nope!” you curled up to him with a smile too big for your face.

———

since that mission, you’d taken it upon yourself to make yourself as cozy as possible.

ghost’s hoodies were just so much bigger than yours.

soap’s sweats were just so much comfier than yours.

gaz’s shirts just fit so much better than yours.

and price’s socks were socks, but you didn’t want him to feel left out.

this is how you found yourself being interrogated in the commons, surrounded by your team.

“why am i here, boys?” you almost sang out.

“grim. you have an issue. who’s clothes are you even wearing right now?” gaz was the first to break the ice.

“oh, a little bit of everyone’s i suppose.” you shrugged.

“kid. we need those back. you have your own clothes, for god’s sake!” price scolded you, arms crossed against his chest and head tilted to look you in the eye.

“but they’re comfier than mine! and, they keep me warmer! please?” you threw out your best puppy dog eyes, knowing it would hit them in the heart.

soap sighed out, a hand dragging down his face.

“let me tell you what, kid. keep what you have, but no more stealing them.” ghost’s voice was gruff from behind you.

you whirled around, “how about i switch them out when they don’t smell like you guys anymore? heh, variety!”

“whatever. meeting dismissed, i’m tired.”

————————————————————————————————————————

a/n: thank you for reading <33

[nrdmssgs]

Tips to write for Nikolai (useful phrases)

Masterlist Tips to write for König (useful phrases)

AN: This guide is not meant to encourage you to start loving Russian language or culture. As much as I personally love Nikolai, I'll absolutely understand, there are people out there, that may feel bad, seeing him in CoD franchise, because of everything going on right now. This is not a call to start loving him, not a call to start describing this character as an absolute angel (he is not and never was). If seeing such a guide makes you feel bad - I'm genuinely sorry, and I'm open to a dialogue to make it better.

I tried to cover the most commonly used themes. However, it's impossible to make it short, yet all-covering. So please don't hesitate to come into my DMs with 'hey, I want Nikolai to say this thing in my fic - could you translate it in Russian for me?'. I'm always super-happy to help!

These are not my HCs, about what would Nik say, just some usefull phrases!

And the last one: Russian language uses Cyrillic letters. But I personally love to, at least try to hear, how other languages sound. So I provided translations (Cyrilic) and transliterations (Latin).

TW: swearing

Basic words, you may need for everyday chit-chat

Hello - Здравствуй Zdravstvui

Hi - Привет Privet

Good morning \ day \ evening - Доброе утро \ добрый день \ добрый вечер Dobroe utro \ dobryi den' \ dobryi vecher

Goodbye (untill next time) - До свидания Do svidaniia

Bye - Пока Poka

Thank you - Спасибо Spasibo

You are welcome - Пожалуйста Pozhaluista

Yes \ yes of course - Да \ Конечно Da \ Konechno

No - Нет Net

Petnames

Genderless (can be used, referring to both men and women, depending on relationship dynamic):

Angel - Ангел Angel

My soul - Душа моя Dusha moia

Treasure - Сокровище Sokrovishche

Sun \ little sun - Солнце \ Солнышко Solntse \ Solnyshko

My joy - Радость моя Radost' moia

Love - Любовь Liubov'

My light - Мой свет Moi svet

My happiness - Счастье моё Schast'e moe

Dream - Мечта Mechta

Little cloud - Облачко Oblachko

Little fire - Огонёк Ogonek

Precious - Прелесть Prelest'

Heart - Сердце Serdtse

Little tiger - Тигрёнок Tigrenok

Wonder - Чудо Chudo

Feminine and masculine versions of petnames (Here you can add 'my' moia for feminine, moi for masculine versions of names)

Priceless - Бесценная \ Бесценный Bestsennaia \ Bestsennyi

Divine - Божественная \ Божественный Bozhestvennaia \ Bozhestvennyi

Peerless - Бесподобная \ Бесподобный Bespodobnaia \ Bespodobnyi

Gorgeous - Великолепная \ Великолепный Velikolepnaia \ Velikolepnyi

Delightful - Восхитительная \ Восхитительный Voskhititel'naia \ Voskhititel'nyi

Darling - Дорогая \ Дорогой Dorogaia \ Dorogoi

Precious - Драгоценная \ Драгоценный Dragotsennaia \ Dragotsennyi

The only one - Единственная \ Единственный Edinstvennaia \ Edinstvennyi

Desired - Желанная \ Желанный Zhelannaia \ Zhelannyi

Golden - Золотая \ Золотой Zolotaia \ Zolotoi

Affectionate - Ласковая \ Ласковый Laskovaia \ Laskovyi

Beloved - Любимая \ Любимый Liubimaia \ Liubimyi

Sweetheart - Милая \ Милый Milaia \ Milyi

Tender - Нежная \ Нежный Nezhnaia \ Nezhnyi

The one, I can't stop looking at (lovingly) - Ненаглядная \ Ненаглядный Nenagliadnaia \ Nenagliadnyi

Incredible - Невероятная \ Невероятный Neveroiatnaia \ Neveroiatnyi

Charming - Очаровательная \ Очаровательный Ocharovatel'naia \ Ocharovatel'nyi

Dear (often said to someone, you consider your family) - Родная \ Родной Rodnaia \ Rodnoi

Sweet - Сладкая \ Сладкий Sladkaia \ Sladkii

Good one - Хорошая \ Хороший Khoroshaia \ Khoroshii

Love confessions and stuff around that

I love you. - Я люблю тебя. Ia liubliu tebia.

I like you. - Ты мне нравишься. Ty mne nravish'sia.

I fell in love with you at first sight. - Я влюбился (if man says it) \ влюбилась (if woman) в тебя с первого взгляда. Ia vliubilsia \ vliubilas' v tebia s pervogo vzgliada.

I can not live without you. - Я не могу без тебя жить. Ia ne mogu bez tebia zhit'.

You drive me crazy. - Я схожу по тебе с ума. Ia skhozhu po tebe s uma.

I wanna be with you. - Я хочу быть с тобой. Ia hochu byt' s toboi.

I think about you constantly. - Я постоянно думаю о тебе. Ia postoianno dumaiu o tebe.

You are my only one. - Ты мой (if the partner is masculine) \ моя (if the partner is feminine) единственный\ая. Ty moi \ moia edinstvennyi\aia.

I really need you. - Ты мне очень нужна (f partner) \ нужен (m partner). Ty mne ochen' nuzhna \ nuzhen.

We were meant for each other. - Мы созданы друг для друга. My sozdany drug dlia druga.

I'm ready to do anything for you. - Я готов/а на все ради тебя. Ia gotov/a na vse radi tebia.

I'm never giving you to somebody. - Я тебя никому не отдам. Ia tebia nikomu ne otdam.

Dirty talking

I want you. - Я хочу тебя. Ia hochu tebia.

I'm all yours. - Я вся твоя \ весь твой. Ia vsia tvoia \ ves' tvoi.

Your body drives me crazy. - Твоё тело сводит меня с ума. Tvoe telo svodit menia s uma.

I want to feel your touch all over. - Хочу чувствовать твои руки везде. Hochu chuvstvovat' tvoi ruki vezde.

You can do anything you want today. - Тебе сегодня можно всё. Tebe segodnia mozhno vse.

Take me the way, you want to. - Возьми меня, как ты хочешь. Voz'mi menia, kak ty khochesh'.

I want to make you moan. - Хочу заставить тебя стонать. Hochu zastavit' tebia stonat'.

Give yourself to me completely. - Отдайся мне весь (to m partner)\ вся (to f partner), без остатка. Otdaisia mne ves' \ vsia, bez ostatka.

Show me, that I belong to you only. - Покажи мне, что я только твоя \ твой. Pokazhi mne, chto ia tol'ko tvoia \ tvoi.

What do you want to do to me? - Что ты хочешь со мной сделать? Chto ty hochesh' so mnoi sdelat'?

Don't stop. - Не останавливайся. Ne ostanavlivaisia.

I want to taste you. - Хочу попробовать тебя на вкус. Hochu poprobovat' tebia na vkus.

Swearing

Fuck (as an interjection) - Блять Bliat'

Fuck off - Отъебись Ot"ebis' (to one person), отъебитесь ot"ebites' (to a group of people)

Bloody hell - Ёбаный пиздец (NOT used during sex!!) Ebanyi pizdets

Bastard - Сволочь (applied to any gender) Svoloch'

Motherfucker - Ублюдок \ уебан Ubliudok \ ueban

Son of a bitch - Сукин сын Sukin syn

Asshole - Жопа \ задница. Zhopa \ zadnitsa.

Cunt \ Pussy - Пизда (This and next one can in theory be used in bed, but i really strongly recommend you to NOT) Pizda

Cock \ Dick - Хуй Hui

Cultural extras to get in the mood

I sometimes meet this take, that Russian, as well as German language, sounds menacing or harsh. And as much as I understand, that it is subjective perception, I have something to add: you can modulate Russian speech as well as any other. You can sound like softest softie, coo and purr in Russian, if you want. Here is a good example: a guy just reads a poem, but you try and tell me, he is not straight seducing you.

Very nice perspective on how non-tourist Russia looks like. The guy travels to places, that still look and feel like USSR and somehow manages to survive. Don't mind him rambling, how good was soviet life - he doesn't mean it, he just says whatever people, he meets, would love to hear.

Another good channel to explore non-tourist Ru and some extreme weathers. Don't worry, there are no jumpscares and nothing scary happens on the videos.

Russian winter is a tricky one, because -40 С in Yakutsk can sometimes feel softer as -20 in Moscow. Humidity and wind are the keys.

No, vodka is not the only alcohol option) You can write a Ru character, that despises vodka and it will be 100% legit.

If you need domestic and interior references to Nikolais youth in soviet Ru - I can recommend HBOs Chernobyl series. An accuracy and attention to domestic details there is so great that it gets uncanny sometimes.

Stefan Kapičić does very tender and smooth version of Slavic accent. And he is 100% right to do so - it works good both for his character and the audience. If you want to hear heavier versions of Russian accent - here is a little funny video.

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and did not choose her codename. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5.3k

Author's Note: When writer ADHD hits, it hits. Sorry for the wait friends. Been working on this for a comically long time. Thank you for all the love and support for this series. I love that you love this. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass @natashasilverfox

Chapter Seven: You Don't Know Me

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1993

You counted the small rocks in your black gloved hand. Neither one looked the same. All were varying shades of gray. A few were smooth and round while others were rough with sharper edges. It was the best of what you could find around the neighborhood. You looked up when you heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. 

The ends of Nat’s blue hair spilled out of her dark gray knitted hat. Her black puffy jacket swallowed up most of her body. In her white gloved hands was a single stick. It wasn’t very long. Hardly more than four inches. Some pine needles still hung off of it. You watched as she approached while the chill that hung in the air after the first snowfall stabbed at your cheeks. 

“Aren’t we supposed to use a carrot?” you asked as she came to stand next to you. You were also pretty sure that you were supposed to use coal instead of rocks. 

“My mom already cut up the one we have,” Nat replied. 

You certainly didn’t have any carrots lying around at home. Your refrigerator and Nat’s were so different that it was jarring the first time you saw it. You hadn’t realized how much food one refrigerator could hold when you didn’t have to make room for your father’s weekly experiments. 

You looked at the headless snowman in front of you. You had spent the better part of the last two hours alongside Nat and her younger sister building the snowman in front of their house. The snowman’s base was large, round, and a bit lopsided. But it supported the slightly smaller packed ball of snow on top of it. You and Nat had done your best to brush off any dirt or blades of grass that stuck to the snow. Now you waited for Yelena to return with the snowman’s head. 

You heard Nat shift next to you while you stared at the empty spot where the snowman’s head will go. You wondered what kind of person this snowman would be. It was a shame when your brother told you years ago that snowmen don’t actually come to life after they are built. There’s no singing or dancing. It was as your father put it when he overheard your conversation:

“It is a byproduct of man’s lust for godhood.”

But maybe they did come to life. In secret. Perhaps at night. You read about all kinds of supposedly fake creatures coming to life in secret in your sister’s books. If it was possible, would this snowman end up being a good person or a bad one? Would the lack of a carrot make a difference? 

“Are you going somewhere?” Nat asked. 

You looked at her and found her looking across the street. You followed her gaze. Outside on your driveway was your father. The trunk of his station wagon hung open while he shoved a couple large bags into it. His back remained toward you and you hoped it would stay that way. The freshly plowed street put enough distance between him and you that you felt like you could breathe normally without him noticing. 

Your gaze landed back on Nat. “My father is attending a convention. It’s a tradition.” 

“What kind of convention?” she asked. 

You shrugged. “One for people like him.” 

He would come back giddy from talking with his fellow scholars. You knew that when he returned you and your siblings would be forced to spend at least three hours trapped at the kitchen table with nothing to eat but plenty to listen to. If something particularly interesting happened, you would definitely be trapped at the table for five hours. 

“You’re not going with him?” she asked. 

You heard the trunk of your father’s station wagon slam shut. You looked over your shoulder and watched as your father started back up the driveway. You looked at Nat and shook your head. “Kids aren’t allowed.” 

Yelena hurried around the house from the backyard carrying a mostly round snowman sized head. It was pretty impressive when she reached you guys. Since you both were taller, you and Nat carefully took the soon to be snowman head and set it on top of its cold, round body. You pushed one smooth light gray rock into the snowman’s left eye socket and then pushed a square black rock into its right. You let Yelena help you set the rest of the rocks into a wide smile. Nat pushed the stick into the middle of the snowman’s face. Then, all three of you stepped back to admire your work. 

“We should give him a name,” Yelena said. 

You tried to imagine the snowman’s rock eyes blinking. You imagined puffs of white mists slipping from between his rocky lips. You tried to imagine him with a carrot for a nose. “He looks like an Ian.” 

You heard Yelena giggle and when you looked at Nat you saw the beginnings of a smile curling her lips. 

Triskelion, Washington D.C.  – 2012

Being part of a team sucks. There are rules you have to follow. Sure, there were rules back when you were working for your father. But those rules were different. You could bend and shape them into whatever you needed. As long as the job was done, your father was content. Maybe he’d nitpick if the job got messy. But you had the freedom of choice. There were so many ways to kill people. Some days your imagination would run wild with new possibilities. You had yet to surprise a target in their bathroom and drop a toaster into their bathtub while they were bathing. Then there was the old classic you had yet to try. This idea demanded the perfect costume, but tying a target to train tracks and watching a high speed train obliterate their body into nothing more but tiny bloody chunks would be great fun. 

You loved that part of the job almost as much as you loved watching your target’s life drain from their eyes. But now that freedom is gone. You don’t get to decide how you are going to do your job. You are told. Ordered. The worst is when you’re not even allowed to kill your target. You remember the first time you were given that bizarre job. You remember how punchable your target’s face was. You remember how easy it would have been to just push the ridiculous man over the edge. No one would have known. But you couldn’t. You watched that opportunity pass you by and you wanted to scream. 

You did scream. At Rumlow. You cornered him and demanded to know why. Why did they keep fucking with your head? 

He reminded you of your role. The chains that kept you bound to these nonsensical rules. You work for SHIELD. You don’t kill targets unless SHIELD wants you to kill them. You keep to your role and you don’t raise suspicions. You live out the story Rumlow crafted for you. He found you on one of his missions. He saw your potential and peeled you up off the ground like some frozen, sick, dying, abandoned mutt. He molded you into the weapon you are now. A weapon he happily handed to SHIELD. 

You hate that story. You hate it more than the stupid suit he forces you to wear. The black tactical suit covers every inch of your body from your neck down to your feet. It had taken a while to get used to the added weight of the black body armor attached to the suit. You still don’t like it. It makes you feel as if you are a child running around with pillows tied to your chest and a foam sword in your hand. But it’s the mask that feels the most suffocating. Despite being able to hear clearly from within the black helmet, you feel cut off from the world. The black tinted visor that conceals your face is full of fancy technology that often gets in the way when you are just trying to watch your target die. You hate the stupid suit. You hate that you can’t do anything without having to wear it. The only time you can strip the stupid costume off and breathe in lungfuls of air conditioned air is in your bunk buried beneath all the levels of SHIELD and fake SHIELD and real HYDRA. 

But if you could choose, you’d stick with the stupid suit if you could craft a different story. Preferably one that didn’t include anyone molding you into anything. But that freedom is gone, and all you have is a boatload of memories to distract you from how angry you are. That anger burns deep inside you. It fuels your every step as you walk alongside Rumlow down a bright, busy hallway. You ignore all the data that blinks across the inside of your visor screen with every SHIELD agent that hurries by. In the beginning you had been curious, but now all the data was familiar and boring. Mostly low level clearance agents with spotless records because they never did anything but sit at their desks or hurry around places looking busy. 

You walk out into a large hangar and board one of the waiting Quinjets. You spy two empty seats in the cockpit and a black duffel bag resting on one of the seats in the cargo bay. Rumlow hands you a small, black flash drive. You roll your eyes despite knowing that he can’t see your face. If he let you take off the damn helmet you could read the mission briefings perfectly fine. You didn’t need to clog up your visor’s hub with all the unnecessary tidbits of information on your targets. You hate this role. 

“This one is routine,” Rumlow begins as you insert the flash drive into the slot along the backside of your helmet. Almost instantly, information clogs up your interior visor screen. “Your target is Tomek Sikora. He’s an arms dealer that SHIELD has kept an eye on.” The picture of your target fills up your visor. Tall, muscular build. Short, dirty blonde hair. Blue eyes. Mid thirties. “We have good intel that he’s operating out of an abandoned storefront in Bardstown, Kentucky. His main clientele is HYDRA.” 

Your visor floods with images of your target standing with or shaking hands with other important looking men and women. A few of the faces look familiar, but the images scroll too quickly across your visor for you to be certain. 

“Your objective is to shut down Sikora’s operation,” Rumlow says. “SHIELD would prefer Sikora alive, but if you have no choice, do what is necessary.” 

The coded orders hidden behind his words brings a small hint of relief. A nice simple kill. You know that if you read more into the file scrolling across your visor that you could piece together why real HYDRA wants Sikora dead. But you don’t care. All you care about is watching your target die. All you care about at this moment is that you won’t be forced to watch your target walk away breathing. A straightforward mission is exactly what you need. Something easy. Sikora will probably put up some kind of fight. You’ll engage and end it when it feels right. 

You pull the flash drive from the slot at the back of your helmet. Your visor clears. 

“Rollins will accompany you on this mission,” Rumlow says. 

Eh. It could be wors–

“Slight change of plan.”

Both you and Rumlow turn towards the open cargo bay door. You see her clearly through your visor screen. You feel the chains of your boredom lift. That familiar energy that buzzes right beneath your skin awakens. You haven’t seen her since you put a bullet through Erik’s head. Even then, you can’t count that as your official last parting. You were buried beneath your costume. She didn’t know you were there. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have let you go like that. 

The weight of the costume you wear now feels heavier as you watch her ascend up the Quinjet’s ramp. She’s dressed in civilian clothes. You love the black, leather jacket that she wears over her red shirt. Dark denim jeans cover the length of her legs, and a gun sits in a black holster strapped to her right thigh. You’re envious of her clothes. You want to look into her wardrobe. You want to strip out of this stupid suit and wear anything else. 

“Agent Romanoff,” Rumlow greets. 

Nat. Your teeth bite into your lower lip. You know you can’t say anything. The rules of your role have been drilled into your head. You don’t speak. You only act. If anyone asks questions, Rumlow has your pathetic sob story ready to share. You know all this. You know you must comply. But you really want to say something. 

Her olive green eyes settle on you as she steps into the cargo bay. You instantly miss the recognition as she looks at you. Her eyes travel up and down the length of your body, taking in your forced getup. You want her to see right through it. You want her to say your name and rip the damn mask from your face so the chase can resume. 

“What’s the update?” Rumlow asks. 

Her attention shifts to him. “Rollins can’t make it. He’s in medical. I’m filling in.” 

Now you really really want to say something. You watch as she walks over to where the black duffel bag sits. A smile stretches across your face. You had wanted to start slow. A coffee date scheduled on a day that neither one of you needed to even think about work. But if you can’t have that, then you will happily take this. 

“That’s not necessary,” Rumlow replies. 

Your smile drops away, and you turn your head to give Rumlow the most threatening glare he will never see. He ignores you as Nat zips up her duffel bag and looks over at him. 

“I’ll get one of the other guys to fill in for Rollins,” Rumlow continues. “It’s a routine operation, and you’re needed for more Avenger missions.” 

You wonder what would happen if you punched Rumlow in the face. If you swing hard enough, there is a good chance you could knock him out. That would give you a couple seconds to say something to Nat before all hell breaks loose. You’d definitely apologize for the stupid thing you said before. And if Rumlow didn’t go down in one punch, you could always follow it up with a solid kick. 

“Fury disagrees,” Nat replies. 

The name sparks two recent memories of the Director of SHIELD. Both memories consisted of you standing in this stupid suit and staring at the bald man with an eyepatch while he interrogated Rumlow about you. You played the part of a lost puppy well enough despite wanting to smash your head into the closest wall. 

“Besides,” Nat looks first at you and then back to Rumlow, “I’ve been dying to meet your new sidekick.” 

Oh god. That one hurt. 

“They’re not much of a talker,” Rumlow says. 

You have so much to say. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Nat replies. 

Rumlow shakes his head, but finally relents. He looks at you. “Stay focused. I expect results.” 

You watch as he steps out of the cargo bay and descends down the jet’s ramp. For a moment, you can’t believe your luck. You thought that Rumlow would have done just about anything to rip you away from Nat. He had made sure to keep you as far away from her as possible. But the reality of your amazing luck settles when Nat comes to stand next to you. 

“Has he taught you how to fly one of these?” she asks. 

You shake your head. 

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll fly. You fill me in on the mission.” 

This is the greatest day of your life. 

The Quinjet, Kentucky Sky – A Short Time Later

You pull the flash drive free from the tablet’s port. The tablet’s screen goes blank while the hub screen built into your interior helmet visor lights up with a selection of unnecessary data about the tablet. Battery at 68%. No security update needed. Software version 3.8.27. You don’t understand why you are forced to tolerate the random extra tech. Rumlow told you it was to make your story more realistic. You still didn’t understand how something only you see makes others believe you more. 

You look up from the tablet, and the extra data clears. Bright sunlight floods the cockpit. The sky outside is so blue that it is almost painful to look at. You are sitting in the co-pilot seat. The various buttons and screens stretched across the dashboard mean nothing to you. Nat has been doing all the flying. All you’ve done is find a SHIELD issued tablet and plugged in the flash drive so Nat could review the details of your mission. So far she’s asked you easy questions about the mission. Your answers are simple nods or a shake of your head. You want to say more. You need to say more. But you stay quiet. You comply with your role. 

But there is sweet happiness in your forced silence. You look over to the empty pilot seat next to you. Nat left a few minutes ago to change after switching on the autopilot. You are tempted to lift up your helmet and sniff the pilot seat. You want to know what she smells like. You want to peel your black gloves off and touch the cushions of the seat. Feel the warmth left behind by her touch. A couple different scenarios float through your head and each one is far more entertaining than sitting in silence. But at least you get to be near her. You don’t have to hurry off and leave her. Despite all these stupid rules, you’ve discovered a piece of freedom that kept eluding you before. 

You turn your gaze forward when you hear Nat emerge from the tiny bathroom directly behind the cockpit. She settles back into the pilot’s seat. Her casual clothes are gone. You miss the leather jacket, but the black catsuit is a warm familiar memory. You tuck the flash drive into one of your suit’s many pockets. 

“Shouldn’t be long now,” she comments as her green eyes dart across the various screens and lit buttons. “About fifteen minutes out.” 

There’s a moment when you taste that bitterness of disappointment. You don’t want this to end. The two of you up in the sky without anyone else to distract you. But that moment ends when you remember what’s to come. For the first time you won’t be on opposing sides. Sort of. Not exactly. But it sends a thrill through you. 

“So,” she looks over at you, “Silent Type.” 

You frown at the stupid codename. You know she can’t see your face, but she sees something because she starts to smile. The tablet’s screen comes back to life as you navigate to the application you need. A virtual keyboard pops up along the lower half of the tablet. Your gloved fingers are quick as you type your message. You turn the tablet around so she can read it. 

Rumlow’s idea. Not mine. 

Your answer seems to amuse her more as she nods. 

“That does sound like a name he would come up with,” she says. 

You turn the tablet to face you again and delete what you wrote. Your fingers are quick to tap out another message. 

Did you choose your codename? 

Her smile falls a bit as she reads your question. “What did Rumlow tell you about me?” 

It doesn’t take you long to delete your question and type out your reply. 

Avenger. 

“That’s it?” she asks. 

You lower the tablet and nod. It’s not entirely a lie. Rumlow had spent most of his time preparing you for this stupid role. That meant filling your head with a bunch of random bullshit about fake SHIELD and real HYDRA. He trained you to remember your story. He did his best to polish off the grime of freelance and make you seem more refined. He rarely brought up Nat. And when he did, he never let you think about her for long. 

“I guess we’ll need to get to know each other better after this mission,” she says. 

More time with Nat? This day just gets better and better. Your fingers tap against the tablet’s digital keyboard again. When you lift up the tablet, you are very interested in her answer. 

What did Rumlow say about me?

“You’re his pet project,” she says as her smile returns. 

You frown. You want to somehow clarify that you are nobody’s pet project, but one of the buttons on the dash lights up and steals Nat’s attention. You watch as she turns off the autopilot and takes control of the Quinjet. 

“We’re approaching our target,” she reaches up and flips a switch. “I’ll set us down somewhere close. With our stealth systems engaged, they shouldn’t be able to spot us.” 

You turn your head and look out at the bright blue sky. While you love the quality time with Nat, you also need to come up with a plan for this mission. Rumlow’s coded orders had been clear. Kill Sikora. If Rollins had joined you on this mission, you wouldn’t have needed to do much thinking beyond when to kill your target. But Nat’s fantastic presence complicated things. You doubt that she’s part of fake SHIELD. Which meant putting a bullet in Sikora’s head outright wouldn’t go over well. Especially if your target decides to surrender. 

Your plan starts to take shape within your mind as Nat guides the concealed Quinjet towards the ground. It’s a simple plan. Draw your target away from Nat and kill him where it is just you and him. It would ruin the foreplay. You probably wouldn’t have much time and would need to kill Sikora quickly. But you’d get to talk to Nat later which seemed like a generous trade. 

The bright onslaught on sunlight fades as Nat sets the Quinjet down in a clearing surrounded by eastern white pine trees. Based on the data you had skimmed earlier, the abandoned storefront your target is operating out of is just north of your location. When the Quinjet’s engines fall quiet, you stand. You leave the tablet on your seat as you head for the cargo bay. You approach a metallic box bolted onto one of the walls. Your gloved fingers type in a code on the keypad fixed to the front of the box. The front panel unlocks and opens to reveal a small armory. 

Smaller than usual. No fancy explosives. Your usual selection of guns has been paired down to one: a single black Glock. You suspect your limited selection is thanks to Rumlow. You figure this has something to do with your training, but you don’t really care. You’re more disappointed in how the gun feels in your hand. You miss your Beretta. You don’t feel the same without it. 

You slide the Glock into the empty holster at your right hip and turn when you hear Nat enter the cargo bay. She holds the tablet you left behind. Her finger slides across the tablet’s screen, and you watch the way her head tilts slightly as she reviews the mission data. You imagine that she looked exactly like that whenever information on you ended up in her hands. Your smile starts to return as you grab the tactical knife left in the armory and slide it into place on your belt. 

She turns off the tablet and sets it down next to her black duffel bag. She lifts her hand and speaks into her wrist. “Comms check.”

You hear her voice flood your helmet and you don’t want it to stop. When she looks over at you, you nod. Her smile threatens to break you. You want so desperately to say something. You want her to look at you like she knows you. Like she did before whenever she appeared on one of your jobs. But your mouth stays shut. You comply. 

It’s quiet when you both exit the Quinjet. As you make your way through the cluster of trees, you can’t help but think back to your last freelance job in the middle of nowhere. The sound of gunshots ripping apart tree bark. The smell of sweat and blood on your target’s body. The feeling of her hand around your wrist. 

You stop when you reach the treeline. Roughly fifty yards ahead of you is the bland backside of the abandoned storefront. The back door is unguarded. You don’t see any cameras either. It’s no wonder why HYDRA wants Sikora gone. The lack of security is almost offensive. It’s as if your target is inviting you inside. 

“We’ll split up and sweep the area,” her voice is low and when you look at her, you nod. 

Perfect. As long as you find Sikora first, this mission should be easy. 

“I’ll take the upper floor while you secure the lower,” she says. 

As you nod, you hope that you’ll find Sikora in the storefront’s basement. If you don’t, you don’t know exactly how you’ll get your target far enough away from Nat. 

You both step out of the treeline and make your way towards the storefront’s back entrance. By the time you reach the back door and press your back against the wall, you notice that both you and Nat have drawn your guns. You bite your tongue to hold back a laugh at the thought that instantly springs to life within your mind. This must be the first time you both have a gun in your hand and you’re not pointing them at each other. Now would be a great time to take your helmet off. 

Nat reaches for the door handle, and it’s unlocked. You decide that it’s your target’s inflated ego that left the door unlocked and not stupidity. Or a trap. You try not to let that last thought get you too excited as you follow Nat through the backdoor. 

You enter a narrow hallway. Directly ahead of you is a wide open doorway that reveals a large empty room. Remains of what was clearly a counter mark the worn looking floorboards. Dark colored wallpaper peels from the walls. The room itself is lit only by the light that spills out from the hallway. Large, thin boards are nailed across the windows. Littered about the floorboards is trash, random dark wet spots, and the occasional clothing hanger. 

To your right is a set of stairs leading to the upper floor. To your left is the remains of another door. You see the hinges, but the door that clearly once occupied the space is gone. Beyond it is another set of stairs leading down towards the basement. You turn to your left and start to descend the stairs. You hear Nat ascending the stairs behind you. You force yourself not to look back as you lift your gun and keep going. 

Your footsteps are quiet on the stairs. When you reach the bottom, you find yourself alone in an empty room. The lights are on. Boxes and crates are stacked against one of the walls. On the other side of the room is another doorway, but this one still has a door attached to it. As you walk further into the room, you hear a loud thud shake the low ceiling. You feel a tiny spike of jealousy that Nat found her targets while you are alone in a basement. Another loud thud shakes the ceiling again. That lingering spike of jealousy flees when the door on the other side of the room opens. 

You pull the trigger the second you see someone fill up the space in the doorway. You see the person drop and no one else comes out. You move towards the open door. One quick look down at the man dying on the basement floor at your feet confirms that they are not your target. You step over the dying man and into the room. It’s a small break room with a fold out plastic table that eats up most of the space. Sitting on the table, directly in the middle, is a small, square television. It’s on and playing an old western. 

When you return to the dying man laying in the doorway, you find him dead. The man’s lifeless eyes stare up at you. His mouth is slightly parted. His hair looks greasy. He looks about as old as any average college student. The sounds of the western playing on the television fills up the quiet as you stare down at the dead man. The sounds of shouting pulls you out of your odd stupor. 

You step over the dead man and hurry back towards the stairs. You quickly climb back up into the narrow hallway and start towards the stairs that would take you up to the upper floor when you see it. You are standing at the base of the stairs when you see a body falling. You see their arms first as they come up, and you see how their legs trip over each other. You notice a mop of dirty blonde hair right before it smashes into the first uppermost step. The body falls hard down the stairs with a series of sickening crunches. You take a few steps back when you notice the body picking up some speed. When the body finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, it rolls over once and stops. 

Sikora lays at your feet. His neck is bent at a terrible angle. His blue eyes are wide open. You see a piece of bone poking out from his forearm. Your gun lowers at the sight of your target’s still body. You feel numb at the sight of it. No satisfaction. No sense of pride. Not even relief. You don’t know how to feel when you step over your target’s body and ascend the stairs. That strange feeling persists as you find Nat standing near a table. Littered across the floor are six bodies. You can’t tell if some are alive or not, but you feel the corners of your lips curl into a smile. Nat doesn’t have a scratch on her. None of the bodies scattered across the room were a challenge for her and you just want to run up to her and kiss her and hug her tight because it makes sense. One piece of your life hasn’t changed. She’s still your friend even if you can’t act like hers. 

As you walk further into the room, carefully stepping over fallen bodies, Nat closes up a black laptop that is sitting on the table. Her smile melts away any lingering numbness hanging on from seeing your target’s body. 

“Good work,” she says. “SHIELD will be here in ten to clean up.” 

You savor her praise before looking at the laptop again. 

“Just a little side project,” she says after following your gaze. She picks up the black laptop and moves towards you. “You ever have bourbon from here?”   

You shake your head. 

“Then we’re making a quick pit stop before we head back,” she says. 

You follow her, and you can’t help feeling like you are back in Ohio. It’s as if school is finally letting out and you two have the rest of the day ahead of you. You want this day to last forever. You’d rather her know it’s you, but if this is all you can have, then you’ll take it.

[magicpumpkin3]

May I request HCs of the Dorm Leaders (Separately) with a [S/O] [Gender Neutral] (Romantic) who can curse out in their native language whenever they get angry? Like in one scenario: [Y/N] got so fed up with the One-Brain Cell gang (First Years) that they willingly cursed out in their mother tongue to the group, giving them an earful of a lecture like an angry mother who found their kids caused trouble at school. How would they react to their partner who can speak in another language? (Examples: Korean, Russian, Spanish, etc.)

(Note: Scolding in any language is lethal.)

(Note 2: Ignore @//swiftyangx12)

- @sanctum-of-ramshackle

Note: *laughing in bilingual* Oh dear, It's going to be such a delight to write

Note: It took almost a year...Well, that was something -

Riddle Rosehearts

I see Riddle as a person that thinks, that curse words are forbidden and that no one should use them well, at least not around him.

So, let's just say, when reader cussed out because of the stupidity of the holy trio, I think it was for the best that no one had a single clue what the hell they were saying, because otherwise Riddle would've collared them.

So, let's Imagen a scenario, where Riddle found out what the bunch of gibberish words ment. He is soo not pleased, the dorm leader really thought that reader was better, then that. Of course there was some scolding and ect, but at the end of the day, he kind of get's it, it's Deuce, Ace and Grim after all. But that's still not an excuse!!!

He's also really interested in learning some basic words in readers native language. Even those cuss words sounded beautiful.

Leona Kingscholar

So, like Riddle, he has no fucking clue what you said. Well, he gets that it's probably something like cuss words but he's not quite sure.

Now, let's clarify that he gives zero shit if you cuss or not. Like, he gets it, shit happens, let's move on. And to be fair, I'll lie if I say I don't think he's the type to use cuss words in he's day to day life.

So, when you let all your anger flow in the middle of an overbolt fight, he's all in for it, even the overbolt kid was stunned by the nonsense you said.

Does Leona want to learn the language? Fuck yeah he does, it would make so much easier for him to cuss and make fun of other people, omG. Overall, he thinks that you're hella cool when you speak your native language.

Azul Ashengrotto

So, I don't think I need to say it again, he has no idea what you said, he has some suspensions but he's quite sure. Azul new that sometimes your brain just glitches and some words happen.

To be fair, I'm not sure how he feels about cuss words. I think he's okay when there's some used, but not like fuck fuckedy fuck fuck fuck.

So, when you started screaming at the trio, he thought it was one of those days when your brain farts some words. He haven't even thought those could be some inappropriate words. Twins on the other hand...oh yeah, they knew-

When he found out, Azul was quite impressed. He hadn't heard anyone curse so passionately, so boy couldn't even be mad at you properly!

As for the language, he finds it mesmerizing. Does he want to learn it? Oh hell yeah! It could be your secret language that only both of you could talk on~

Kalim Al Asim

First of, this is a child. But in all honesty, I think he dislikes cuss words, but not as passionately as Riddle. But still, don't swear around him plz

He is truly curious about you knowing another language, especially when you speak it! It sounds so beautiful coming from you, he is definitely into learning some words. Lemme tell you, the way he was staring at you, when you rained hell fires apun the idiot trio, was something.

Now, we all know that he had no idea what you said, but let's pretend someone told him God help that poor unfortunate soul

He is shocked to say the least, I think he would just froze up with this face 0_0, like. He doesn't blame you, but at the same time it feels wrong to him to hear you cuss in your native language.

Vil Schoenheit

Okay, I feel like he's kind of like an Azul when it comes to the adult language, doesn't mind it, but when it's too much he'll ask you to stop.

Now, you speaking 2 languages is interesting, but at the same time he knows it's semi-normal to be so fluent He has Rook by his side, like c'mon

He would love to learn your language, but I feel he'd actually just learn the basic set of words and of course speak without accent bc perfectionism

Vil is no idiot and he sees with whom you're dealing. He understands, no judgement, yell at them all you want, he will just watch and might trow some disapproval glance in their director, just so they could feel the fault.

Idia Shroud

First of, he's a fortnighter. He's a gamer for crying out loud, I bet when he's comfortable he swears at least once in 3 sentences. So yeah, you can swear all you want, he's not amused.

As for the language, he's quite fond of it. It sounds very majestic when you start to talk on it so to speak. He simp-. And let's be honest here, the fist words that he'll ask to learn are the cuss once, we all know it.

So when he heard you scolding the trio he makes a few mental notes 1)Ask for the translated version. 2) Don't get on your bad side 3) That was hot-. Idia is really amazed how good everything sounded, almost got hypnotized there.

He wants to learn the language not only because he can then swear around people and be unnoticed or at least around himself, but he also wants it to be a semi-secret language between you too, so you can talk about whatever you want without being afraid of someone ears dropping.

Malleus Draconia

Okay, so yet another child. It's like dealing with Kalim but this one is a bit sly. He understands that cuss words have their place in the world but Malleus doesn't feel the need to use them or at least around you.

Malleus has great interest in learning your other language, he thinks that's it's going to be your aristocratic language thing, which he also finds quite romantic.

When he overhead you cussing in your mother tongue at the trio he was amused. Malleus in all honesty found this hole situation hilarious and interesting.

And yes, even knowing cuss words in your language he will not use them just to make you a tab bit mad~

[babbygirlblues]

The One Chance - part iii

i.e. the unintended part ii of part ii

Summary: Before your father sets you up with a mate, you ask Natasha to be your first time. She jumps at her one chance to be with you, her best friend and the omega she’s been in love with for years.

Alpha!Nat & Omega!Reader

Prologue [Part i] [Part ii]

Warnings: oh god i'm so embarrassed, cunnilingus, size kink, soft+rough sex, loss of virginity, knotting. 3.7K

18+ MINORS DNI

You laugh at her stunned demeanour.

“I’ve never heard you swear so much.” You tease her.

She chuckles and nods, “Melina says it’s poor form for a girl to swear.”

“I like it that you have a clean mouth,” You say,  “Although I have to admit, you sound very hot 

when you curse.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” You nod, “Especially in Russian.”

“Russian ay?”

“Hmmhm.”

She starts to spin you around to the bed.

“Then perhaps you’d like to hear me say, полежать (lie down).”

Totally oblivious to the meaning of her words, you wiggle your eyebrows and giggle at her faux seriousness as she puts on a Russian accent.

“Hmm I like the sound of that.”

She helps you down onto the bed and you inch your way up to the pillow, distracted by the way she climbs up after you.

“Or ты хорошо пахнешь (you smell good).” She says, her palms heavy on the mattress of either side of her legs.

“That’s good.” You smile.

“I could also say, Я украл твою любимую ручку.”

“That’s a long one.” You murmur, looking up at her from your pillow, “What does it mean?”

“I stole your favourite pen.” 

You gasp, “The thin black one?”

“Yeah.” She grimaces guiltily, “I’m sorry!”

You slap her playfully on the shoulder, “Hey! I’ve been looking for that.”

“I’m gonna give it straight back.” She insists. 

“You better!”

The playful energy dies down and the room grows quiet with sexual tensions that surges as you look into each others eyes.

“Are you ready?” She whispers.

“Yeah, I think so.” You reply quietly, careful not to disturb the silence, “You?”

“Definitely.” She nods with a small smile.

She sits up onto her heels between your legs and drags her hands down your stomach until they press into your lower stomach and her fingertips tease along the band of your pants. She runs a soft line back and forth, to the tip of one hip bone before gliding down to your belly button and back up to the other. 

Little bumps rise on your skin and it makes you shiver at the sensitivity she’s building up with her gentle touch. Your anticipation for more grows heavy in your bones, when you start to shift restlessly she teases under the band of your pants and you nudge her further. Confident fingers pop the button on your jeans and she has to tug roughly to get the tight material over your ass and down your thighs. Your breasts sway as she tugs you along the sheets with the jeans and you giggle as she pulls you off the pillow. You kick them off when she reaches your ankles and Natasha comes crawling back up the mattress. 

She reaches around your back for your bra strap and fumbles with it against your skin. 

“Sorry,” She huffs and an endearingly bright red flush consumes her cheeks. You stifle your laugh and press a soft kiss to the heated skin before easily flicking the clasp open behind your back. 

She helps you pull the strap down over your shoulder, following the material over your skin with her lips. She trails a wavy line of wet kisses over your collarbone and down to suck a circular line of marks around the swell of your breast, avoiding your nipple in a way that drives you crazy. 

“F-f-fuck,” You whimper as her lips finally close around your nipple and she sucks the sensitive nub gently into her mouth.

Her lips wander as she presses kisses through the valley of your breasts, over your sternum, and she starts to reach the soft skin of your stomach.

“Nat, nat, nat,” You call for her, clasping her under her arms, “I’m ready, please.”

“Can I taste you first?” Her hand floats over your sex and it makes you too nervous to think about her down there. You’ve never even let yourself fantasise about it.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” You tell her and give her another anxious tug upwards.

“Okay,” She surrenders, “Ok.”

She presses a quick kiss right above your clit through your panties before she sits up. You didn’t expect it to feel so good, your whole stomach flips and you’re left breathless as the air in your lungs disappears entirely. The heat of her lips was so intense, even through the thin cotton of your underwear and for only a heartbeat, with a simple kiss, she’s changing everything. 

While she tugs her shirt off over her head, shaky hands slide your underwear off and throw it off the side of the bed. She starts to settle between your legs but before you can close your ankles around her waist she leaps back up.

“I almost forgot.” She gasps.

The muscles of the alphas back bulge as she bends over the bed and digs through her pants on the ground, retrieving a small square packet from her pocket. She carefully rips it open and you realise she’s putting out a condom. You sit up quickly and reach for her wrist to stop her. When you imagined tonight with her, it certainly didn’t end with her seed in the bin. Your omega has her hopes up about feeling Natasha’s skin and something tendrils up your spine as you feel it’s being taken away.

“You don’t have to wear it, I’m not in heat.” You tell her.

Natasha looks at you, paused over the tip of her cock.

“You could still get pregnant.” She says, blowing red hair out of her eyes as she looks up at you curiously.

“It’s unlikely,” You say, “But yeah.” 

A more sensible voice pipes up in your head. Pregnant, even with Nat’s pups isn’t a good idea, no matter how much you want it. Tying her to you with a pup wouldn’t be fair to either of your careers, or your friendship for that matter.

“Um, yeah, no it’s probably a good idea.” You confirm and you remove your hand from her forearm. She rolls the condom on and you’re quickly relieved that she’d thought about this.

Still a voice in your ear keeps singing Nat’s pups, pregnant with Nat’s pups, and it sounds like a dream.

She climbs back up and your hands guide her at her waist until she’s towering back over you again. Your legs naturally drop open and you wrap your ankles inside the space between her calves. 

As she looks down, her hair falls down over her forehead and into her eyes. You tenderly push it back over her head, smoothing the part into the hair and your palms press soothingly into her crown. With one arm she sinks down onto her forearm and suddenly the weight of her chest presses into yours making you sigh.

She lines herself up ready to push in but she’s immediately concerned by the size difference. Her cock looks monstrous compared to the tiny slit between your legs. The wetness there is already making her slip around the edge and up through your folds as she starts to press forwards. You mewl as she jolts awkwardly up into your cunt, the heavy drag against your skin making you squirm under her. 

“Ahh, Tash.” You almost knock into her head as you tip up to watch her between your legs. 

Eventually she catches on the rim and she starts to put the power of her hips behind the push. Your virgin walls start to stretch and your grip on Natasha’s arm turns painfully tight. When she looks up, your eyes are clenched closed and the grimace on your face makes her sick. She backs away and you open your eyes when you feel her pulling away. 

“What’s wrong?” You whisper, confused as to why she’s stopped. 

“You’re hurting.” She says.

“It’s ok, please,” You run a hand down to her hip and try to pull her down to you again. “It’s not that bad.” You assure her, “You’re just fucking big.”

She’s already battling with the voice in her head, her alpha’s voice commanding her and assuring her that she’s seconds away from finally being inside you if she just forces you open. When your soft voice begs for her cock she’s helpless to resist, so she tips back down hovering over you as she starts pressing. The resistance prevents her cock from sinking past the broadest width of her head.

“You have to relax, Y/N,” She groans, “And just breathe.” 

She grips onto your hips ready for another push, “Okay, breathe.”

You take a deep breath and you exhale through your mouth she starts to force herself in. She watches as your hole starts to stretch obscenely around the tip of her cock, arousal drips from your cunt and she can feel herself start to tremble at the tight wet heat she’s pressing against.

“Just do it Tash, please.” You beg her and the teary eyed look you give her is desperate.

She huffs, disagreeing with you and she pauses her hips. You can feel her hesitating and you wish she would use the strength you know she’s capable of.

“Please, please Nat.” You whisper, “Please.”

She starts pushing, fighting almost brutally to gain the entrance you keep refusing. It’s heaven and the way her heavy cock looms over your tiny hole drives her crazy with lust. But her eyes keep flicking up to your face and she can’t bear to see you in pain. She pulls back and starts to shuffle down the bed. 

You whine out loud as she leaves.

“Give me a second, honey.”

She drags you over the mattress to the edge of the bed until your ass tips on the edge and she lifts your foot to place it down right below your ass. She kneels on the carpet at the edge of the mattress and her chest sinks down to press into the top of your foot, holding it there and forcing your legs to stay open wide.

She can already smell you, the powerful scent of your sex makes her alpha start to go wild. She rubs her thumb over the outer lips of your pussy, transferring a fiery warmth through the rest of your core. 

“Natalia!” Your voice cracks and you don’t recognise the squeal that escapes your lips.

She starts opening you up with gentle open mouth kisses in the little ravines of your inner thighs. You gasp and mewl uncontrollably as she licks ruthlessly through your cunt until her face is buried inside and her chin is dripping with your slick. Her lips start feather light as she kisses the hot flesh and you feel a heavy pulse settle under her tongue. Your hips jolt under heartbreaking pleasure as her lips capture your clit and suckle around the edge of the nub. 

Her name joins every exhale in a raw moan as she builds up a fast rhythmic circular motion with her tongue. The sound is music to the alpha’s ears and she struggles not to become aggressive with your sensitive sex. Her middle finger easily slips inside when she presses it against your entrance and the muscles of your walls grip her in a vice grip. Her head spins and she grows impossibly harder just imagining that tightness squeezing around her cock. 

Another finger joins and she stretches your walls open as she drives into you. Thrusting hard, she scrubs along your ridged walls and your arousal drips all the way down her wrist. She matches her pace, her mouth with her fingers until you’re tugging on her hair and writhing on the sheets trying to get closer and squirm away at the same time.

“Fuck, Tash.” You moan, high-pitched and breathless into the pillow. “I think I’m…”

She ramps up her pace, her fingers hammering faster into you and she sneaks a third one in, spearing you open from your clit all the way down to your entrance.

“Something… Oh god!”

You pant as your walls spasm and she rubs furiously at your clit as you cum. She slips her fingers away and watches the overflow of cum that seeps out your gaping hole. She quickly ducks back down and her lips kiss the ridge between your pussy and asshole where she laps up as much of your essence as she can.

Gradually, she traces her lips back up over your entrance and through your folds until she bumps over your clit. Instinctively she wants to go again, but you jump at even the little nudge from her nose. She tries to take you back into her mouth but the heavy warmth of her lips is too much and you push her away at the crown of her head

“Sensitive.” You whimper.

“Sorry,” She says quietly. She presses her forehead against your inner knee and wipes some of the mess off her face while examining the state of your spent sex. Your puffy folds have bloomed open, your clit like the nectar at the centre is a magnificent red. Your entrance is dripping wet and despite being rubbed pink and raw by her fingers, it’s begging for her to press back inside.

She stands back to her feet at the foot of the bed, and her hips at the perfect height to penetrate into you. She reaches for one of your hands and with intertwined fingers she presses the back of your palm into the mattress. The other hand grips under your ass, taking a grounding hold of your skin.

This time when her tip presses up against you, your hole stretches and you moan instantly.

“Better?” She whispers.

“Fuck, please Tasha.” You whimper, overcome by the sheer girth of her cock and your heart stutters at how wide she’s tearing your walls apart. 

There’s still some pain but she hums quietly in your ear until she’s torn through past that initial resistance and it’s gone. The ring of muscle that clamps down over her cock feels ridiculously tight. She whimpers and groans as your walls spasm around her, ready to stretch even further. 

“You’re doing so well, so good.” She breathes. 

She moves your intertwined hands up above your head and she starts to inch in further. You wrap around her waist and try to meet her thrusts until she’s dug herself fully inside. Your mouth gapes open as her thighs slap against your ass and you're breathless as the sensation of being completely filled to the brim takes you over. The muscles in your stomach convulse hysterically as if you need to accommodate her where she reaches deep into your belly. You could cum if she just kissed you here.

“Oh god,” She moans.

You can only whine in response and you hold her hand with an iron grip. Your thighs quiver as you keep her locked tight between your legs. 

“I don’t know if I can go slow,” She groans.

Her hips start to pump causing her cock head to ram up against your cervix and it sends waves of controllable pleasure through your body. Each one forces a breathless moan from your throat like your body can’t decide if it’s pleasurable or painful.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” You’re unable to control the soft sounds. It’s almost pornographic and if you weren’t so fuzzy headed, you’d be mortified to be so uninhibited in front of the alpha.

Natasha slumps down over you, her hands on either side of your head and she digs her face into your neck. Her hips keep rutting against you, the friction against your skin turning your ass and inner thighs bright red.

“You have to tell me to stop.” She says, her voice straining.

She growls when you only answer her with a moan, but not even like this could she scare you, you trust her too much.

“Y/N!” She commands.

You whimper as you feel the frustration building beneath her skin.

“You have to tell me to stop,” She repeats, her voice rumbling even deeper.

“I’ll tell you,” You promise in a shaky whimper, “I’ll tell you.” 

That soothes her for a moment and she kisses you, so familiar with your lips already. Her movements start so slow and tender. She pulls out inch by inch, exposing her dripping wet member to the air, leaving only the head inside before she’s gliding back in. Her movement is torturously slow, the floods of arousal in your cunt sucks and squelches crudely around her cock. 

“Oh god.” She groans. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Harder, Tash.” You groan, your head writhing on the sheets.

She rocks into you slightly faster, but still so gentle. It makes you gasp and she nuzzles her nose into the cruz of your neck, fighting the urge to cum.

“You’re so tight, I can hardly move.” She replies huskily.

Her hips move again, fast and gentle, she only pulls out half-way and pushes in until an inch remains. You can sense the strength she’s holding back.

“More, more.” You plead.

She hums above you, hesitant and unsure. “More?” 

“Yesss,” You hiss, “Harder,”

She thrusts in faster and you moan as she rocks her thighs into your ass, fully sheathed inside.

“Harder,” You moan again,

She sinks down fully into you, her arms slide up under your shoulders as her pelvis finally rams into you with all her might. You reach around her neck and scratch down her upper back with blunt nails in a desperate search for a release from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Ngghh,” You choke as the force against her cervix makes your chest crumble.

She rocks into you in clumsy rhythms, changing from slow to frantically fast until she finds a pace that makes you moan. She keeps steady after that but it’s fast and you’re stunned by her stamina when she doesn’t let the power in her thrusts fade under her ruthless pace.

“Nat, Nat, Nat, N-Nat,” Your voice starts to turn hoarse and you can hardly hear yourself above the resounding thump of your bedhead into the wall and Natasha breathing in your ear.

At the sounds of her name from your lips, it’s like the animal inside her takes over. She moves like she’s moulding your cunt to the breadth of her cock, stretching and scrubbing a spot inside you that makes you crazy.

The expanse of her chest and stomach is hot and heavy against you. Her skin is smooth and unbelievably soft, it’s a stark contrast to her harsh movements. She draws out slowly before driving back into your walls. The remainder of yesterday's knot is small enough that for the first few thrusts she’s able to jam it past your entrance and you obediently let her pleasure the sensitive flesh in your walls.

The tight massage against her knot makes her whimper into her neck. She can feel her tip press up against a firm muscle that makes you moan so she thumps into it as hard as she can. 

Her hips get faster and she starts to lose her grace as her knot grows and it punches up against your entrance, no longer able to spit you open. She growls in frustration and your omega starts to get agitated when you can’t please Natasha. You don’t know what to do while your walls flutter nervously, seemingly able to sense Natasha’s threatening knot. 

She starts to jackhammer into you, becoming more aggressive when she’s still denied complete entrance. 

“Shit,” She curses, finally understanding her dilemma. “My knot.”

You look down at the imposing bulge as it presses firmly against your dripping and reddened abused hole. 

“Please Natasha,” You whimper and your pathetic attempt to rock down into it makes her swoon. Your head is still swirling with the desperation to have her despite the intimidation of her size.

She shakes her head at your plea.

“I can take it.” You moan.

She groans and it sounds like a ‘no’.

“I can take it,” You whimper, your voice faltering as she humps timidly against your sensitive core. 

Your voice falls into a rumble as you lighty breathe, “Make me take it.” 

You know you’re baiting her alpha with your request and almost on command she roars softly into your skin. She starts to grab at your thighs and she drags you back onto her as she rams into you. Your whole body lurches with the force from her thrusts and the most intense orgasm builds in an instant, your body's reaction to the pain is pure pleasure. Your toes curl and your legs tense up in the air, trembling with the spasming of your walls, it gives Natasha extra leverage to push your thighs up into your chest so you're completely exposed. Your hips lift from the sheets as she uses the strength in her arm to tilt your pelvis upwards and she starts to grind into you from above. 

Natasha starts instinctively pumping thick demanding pheromones in the air, so heavy it makes your eyes sting. But the reaction from your body is almost instantaneous as a deluge of slick excitement drips down your inner thighs and coats the swelling knot jutting against your entrance.

Natasha nuzzles her nose into your scent gland and she teases where a mating bite would go. When her teeth graze over the sensitive skin your body goes completely limp. The sudden slack in your legs makes them drop wide on either side of your chest and it stretches your hole wide enough for Natasha’s next brutal thrust to force her knot into you. Your clamp down around her hard, hot white spots take over your vision and the orgasm that rips through you makes your back arch and your neck tip back into the mattress as the shocks ripple through you. Natasha breaks immediately. The tight pressure around her knot releases the overload of pent up pressure in her core and she humps uncontrollably into your as she cums. The stream seems never ending, even after your aftershocks slowly die off and your walls tire from massaging around her cock, she’s still softly moaning in between heavy breathes against your neck.

[sweetiecutie]

141 x Eastern European reader relationships hc’s

Warnings: some cussing, stereotypical behavior, pretty much safe, not meant for russians - just scroll past

A/n: I was heavily inspired by this post by amazing @kivino, absolutely go and check it out!!

Pretty much all of 141 were in Eastern Europe with missions - Ghost and Price were with missions in Ukraine, Soap, Gaz and Price were to russia.

All of them worked with Eastern Europeans, so boys are generally acquainted with Slav traditions and superstitions - not to whistle within a building, for example, or not to pass things through the threshold. But working with Eastern European for a few weeks and having a romantic relationship with one - completely different things.

So here are some headcanons of how Task Force 141 deals with their Slavic lover<3

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Starting off - Simon loves your culture. He finds many national quirks amusing; his favorite one tho, is how boisterous and bossy Eastern European women are. Usually people tend to be scared of him due to his intimidating stance and quiet behavior. But these ladies who are barely over 160 cm? They can beat the living shit out of him with a single slipper, and he both respects and slightly fears them for it.

For some strange reason Ghost can’t learn a word you teach him, but all the swearings that accidentally slip off your tongue throughout the day? Ghost knows all of them by heart. And he can’t hide a small smile of amusement whenever he hears you cussing angrily over spilled tea or shattered mug. And his favorites so far are ‘kurwa’ and ‘blyat’

Simon is a huge fan of your country’s cuisine! He’s a big man, so he requires proper nutrition. And all the delicious meals your mom cooks? He’s nomming everything to the last crumb! Simon is especially fascinated with a godly meal called “shashlik” - he is definitely a meat eater, Riley loves him a juicy steak freshly off the fire. And eating a meal that consists purely out of roasted meat - a paradise for him.

Captain John Price

Now, this man is most acquainted with all Slavic traditions of all 141 since he works closely with Nikolai, so throwing him off wouldn’t be that easy. But still, having an Eastern European partner does give him some unexpected experiences. For example, John is really surprised by how easily and lightheartedly you and your family joke about dark topics as death, physical traumas or alcoholism. And while everyone is rolling with laughter Price is like “What the fuck is wrong with you guys🧍🏻‍♂️”

If some of your relatives happened to speak English, John will do his absolute best to speak slowly and reduce his accent to minimum, so that they can understand him better. I think it’s just so sweet of him 🥺

What never fails to impress Price is that how much Eastern Europeans care about their appearance. In UK people don’t bother much about their looks, preferring clothes that are comfortable rather than fashionable. And seeing all these people on the streets wearing luxury brand stuff, women with full on glam makeup, their hair made elegantly - it makes him wonder just how much time and effort these people put into their looks. (He soon learn just how expensive and tedious that is once you two start dating)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

I’m pretty sure many Eastern European countries have this magnificent dish - meat jelly. Looks and sounds terrifying, true cultural shock for Kyle’s poor British soul. Or soup called Okroshka - even tho I grew up eating it, I still question its existence, no wonders Kyle gets absolutely weirded out by it.

Many Eastern Europeans, especially in small towns and villages, are very unfamiliar with people of color. It’s not because they mean ill, no, but simply because it’s very rare to see foreigners in such places. So, when Kyle came over to your home for the first time, all neighborhood was quite literally gawking at him. And Garrick, being more closed-off and shy person, was really unnerved by it. What especially set him off was when some random grandmas on the streets asked him “Whose are you?”😭

Oh and he loves, loves, loves when you spill the tea about your family members, sometimes even in front of this exact person bc they can’t speak any English. Sounds mean to do so, but Kyle is very eager to hear about all the drama, glancing discreetly at relative in question. Everyone thinks it’s so cute, watching you two cooing at each other in soft voices in a faraway corner, but in reality you two are just talking shit about everyone in the room😂

John “Soap” MacTavish

What Johnny likes the most about Eastern Europeans is just how generous they are, how they treat all guests with such kindness and hospitality. Usually, when Scottish/British/Irish person invites you for some tea - you do have tea and some sweets. In Eastern Europe though, if you are invited for some tea, you will be having a three meal course of delicious national dishes with incredibly tasty bakery for a dessert, and, of course, tea as promised. And afterwards they will also give you some food in a plastic container so you can take it home. Johnny was genuinely surprised by such warm treatment.

He remembers a lot of random words you say: names of different objects and foods or whole sentences like “turn on the lights” etc in your mother tongue. Johnny likes listening to you talking on the phone with your relatives, his ears perk up slightly whenever he catches a familiar word. But can he actually spell or write these words down? Not really. And if your language uses Cyrillic alphabet? Absolutely no. (This thought came to me based off @kivino’s hc’s)

When Johnny visited your home for the first time, he was actually surprised to see this stereotypical picture: a bratz doll gf and her shreck bf. He was also surprised by how unattractive most Eastern European men are, especially those in their 40s.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important for writers, give us some love and appreciation<3

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 1

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; some swearing, mentions of wounds & medical stuff, dottore warning (?) he doesn’t exactly do anything but y’know- it’s dottore, sort of proofread

note ; i am so scared, i’ve never posted anything like this on tumblr or at all LMFAO this is my first fic ever and very self indulgent. ive already posted 5 chapters of this on ao3 but i was curious as to how the tumblr ajax kissers would react to it. im sorry if this sort of info tab isn’t very descriptive, im just basing it off what i’ve seen from the viewer’s perspective.

ALSO, for context- tetya= aunt and dyadya= uncle in russian!

constructive criticism is appreciated!

next part | masterlist

“hey, watch your step! snow’s gotten harder and slippier these days…”

“yes, sir!”

“yes, father!”

just as the warning rings out, it’s followed by the dry crunch of heavy boots against snow. it’s not the same soft sound as it was a month or so ago, rather it sounds almost as if the ice gnashes aggressively at the leather boots.

it gnaws at your ears painfully, though you’ve been sensitive to such sounds for as long as you could remember, yet you still flinch.

ajax notices right away. he always does.

“here,” he goes, the cloud of his warm breath visible. turning your head toward the boy, you see that he’s handing you his earmuffs.

a sheepish grin invades your lips as you wordlessly take him up on his offer. mind rid of the god awful crush of the snow, you come up with a brilliant idea.

“last one there’s a rotten catch!” you charge onwards with a laugh.

“ah, n-not again!”

ajax’s father only watches from behind as his son hurries to catch up, a defeated sigh leaves him. “these kids…”

said kids were already reaching the lake clearing at that point. the frozen water already has its own layer of fresh-fallen snow, making it seem like an entire new tundra- that is, until you and ajax brashly create footmarks and snow angels on the surface while his father is still yet to catch up. if he’d been closer you would’ve heard the old man’s grumbles about having to carry all the fishing gear.

thankfully, there were no rotten catches that day.

your best friend’s laughter and your very own echo in your head like bells in an empty chapel, uninvitedly. the entire memory is instead invited by the sight of a father on the street with his own children, he carries a bucket and fishing rods as the youngins run ahead excitedly. you conclude that you should’ve left for zapolyarny palace earlier today.

this morning cannot start off on a bad note, not when the doctor had meticulously scheduled an operation for this very day with your presence prerequisited.

you’re acutely aware of this.

you’re still acutely aware of this when you slam your work bag onto the desk with such force that even the fatui guard monitoring the palace hallway jumps.

and you’re still acutely aware of this when you almost bump into one of your boss’s segments on your way to the operation room, a most certain death that would be if you did bump into him. even as you break your stress fueled stride, the segment blocks the path forward.

“if i didn’t know any better, i would assume this is your first day on your first job. ever.”

you furrow your eyebrows confusedly while the segment coldly scrutinizes you top to bottom.

“even the lowliest of fatui recruits know that the first thing one should do after clocking in is get into the proper uniform.” he indicates with a snark in his tone.

ah- your lab coat.

“yes sir. my apologies.” with a haste in your step previously thought impossible to achieve without actually sprinting, you beeline straight to your office, which is conveniently on the other side of a very long hallway from the operation room. so long, in fact, that it gives enough time for a certain someone to slink into the office room without you even seeing it.

you don’t notice him even as you’re already inside the room. well, how could you with such tunnel vision, powered by your early-morning frustration and innate fear of disappointing the doctor. you’re practically out the door with lab coat in hand when he finally quips.

“uhm, doc?” the voice is shaky but still impossible to not recognize.

god dammit.

the tsaritsa was truly not on your side today. with a deep inhale, you do your best to keep a neutral expression as you turn around to face the head of red hair that haunts your dreams. or rather nightmares.

“how may i help you, lord tartaglia?” you still hated that title.

“well heh… this is the head nurse’s office, i believe you can help me by exerting the very function of this room?” the harbinger puts on a friendly front, acting like he can’t feel your burning glare. within it, you start to gauge at what’s brought him here, few surface-level scratches and even fewer cuts that are ever so slightly deeper present on him.

“i’m afraid i’m running late for an important appointment with the doctor, you’ll have to ask one of my subordinates.” you state matter-of-factly and start turning to leave again.

“w-wait, please!” he reaches out to stop you and the hand lands on your bicep, rather than your wrist which would’ve been a quicker latch. huh. “let me talk to him afterwards, he’ll understand. plus, i’m your boss as much as he is.”

“you’re quite literally not.”

“yeah, i’m not. still your boss though.”

childe is not of as high authority over you as the doctor is, afterall you’re one of the doctor’s assigned assistants, but the way he talks so casually and… playfully makes him seem even less bossy. but you don’t allow yourself anymore time to dwell on it, instead you roll your eyes and give in. your boss almost giddily sits on the examination bed.

the sterilized silk gloves slide snugly onto your palms as you look your patient up and down.

“how did you even manage to get yourself roughed up so early in the morning?”

“it’s never too early in the morning for a spar! though- hah… even i didn’t expect to take this many free hits.”

“who were you sparring?”

“eh, some junior lieutenants at the northwest wing. there were some new recruits there too so i figured i’d set an example for ‘em.”

northwest wing..? you visibly pause at the revelation.“that’s… on the other side of zapolyarny palace.”

“so?”

“so there’s nurses there too.”

childe himself seems to pause then- you were catching onto him. he realizes he must think about his next actions as carefully as humanly possible.

“ahah… a-are there?”

good one, ajax.

you look down at the alcohol-soaked cotton ball sitting snugly between your tweezers and then up to a scratch right above childe’s eyebrow- seems like the perfect time to treat your patient. the sting comes before the harbinger can even react and much to his dismay, you keep the cotton ball on his forehead even as attempts to lean away from it.

“childe tartaglia,” you start, voice menacing and low. “did you orchestrate a sparring session with low-rank officers and get yourself injured on purpose to come see me?”

“a-ah ouch!” childe hisses. “surely you w-wouldn’t commit medical malpractice over something as trivial as this?” clearly he forgets who you work for, or pretends to at least.

“start talking.”

“okay, okay! yes, i did all that…” the red head sulks with a defeated sigh. pleased by the confession, you move away with your alcohol cotton ball of doom and give him space.

you watch the tsaritsa’s weapon of war crumple into himself, looking off into a meaningless corner of the room.

“i… i’m being stationed to liyue tomorrow.” his voice is entirely different from what it was when this entire ordeal began- quiet, hesitant.

“and?” is your response before you can even think about how douchey it sounds. it’s already too late when you see childe deflate even more and feel like you just kicked a puppy.

“and i wanted to come and give you the news.”

really? that’s all he wanted from this?

“then why go through all this effort of sparring newbies at practically the ass crack of dawn and lose? why not just come here and tell me at once?”

he scoffs bitterly. “like you’d talk to me under normal circumstances.”

the regret you were feeling from your cruel response from earlier quickly bleeds out into incredulousness.

“you haven’t talked to me under normal circumstances since we were fourteen.” you stab back and childe bites his tongue, he won’t retaliate this time. the rest of the appointment is spent in the deadliest of silences as you finish tending to his “injuries”. neither of you ever look up to face the other.

you pack up quickly as to haul ass from the office room as soon as possible. but not before you mutter stoically- “have fun in liyue.”

and childe is left to sit pathetically on the bed and contemplate his astronomical failure.

—

what a wretched week.

the days seem to take a thousand years each to end, the laboratory feels stuffier, the people less tolerable and you swear the pen in your hand feels heavier than a lead ingot.

“are you done sulking?”

oh yeah, there’s also the ruthless fatui harbinger you work under and the equally insulting bajillion copies of him. you know bajillion is a gross overestimation but you also gave up keeping track of how many segments the doctor has a long time ago, they’re bossy all the same.

“not sulking, sir, just… thinking.”

“thinking about the medical records you’re supposed to be overseeing surely?” he taunts and you can only scoff non-committedly.

said medical records were mere reports on several of the doctor’s past experiments and operations, arguably not worth such a commitment of your time or worth a hackling from your boss. either way the words and paragraphs had merged into blurred lines and incomprehensible messes in your eyes about ten minutes ago, you were only pretending to be doing something at this point.

the irresistible force of your boredom drives your gaze to anywhere but the papers in front of you, eventually settling onto a corkboard hung up on a farther wall of the doctor’s laboratory. tired retinas struggle to focus on the blueprints that are stuck onto the corkboard but they seem to have rough sketchings of… body parts? they’re definitely not human, no, instead the drawings indicate they’re robotical. on another blueprint is an unfinished rendering of the full robot body. the shape language is unconventionally stylized, to a point where they almost resemble traditional inazuman patterns or even… the patterns on scaramouches robes-

“l-lord dottore!! i have an u-urgent matter sent by lord pierro himself.”

huh?

“out with it. quick.” the segment doesn’t even bother to face the stammering officer that had bursted through the door right then.

“u-uhm… some of our liyue informants have reported t-that rex lapis suddenly p-perished during the rite of descension,”

huh?

“rex lapis, dying? well,” he drawls amusedly. “that would certainly be a sight. but how exactly does this development concern me? is the banker not available?”

“w-well y-yes… lord pierro specifically requested for your word on the matter a-and perhaps see if one of your s-subordinates could… be on-site?”

dottore’s segment lets out an exasperated sigh while a gloved hand goes up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “unfortunately it doesn’t surprise me that the collective surplus amount of agents we have stationed in liyue harbor proves to be utterly incompetent to the point where the jester himself would come to me for help.”

a feeling of dread settles in your chest as you try to digest the insane information you’ve been given-

rex lapis, the oldest of the seven archons of teyvat, is dead.

pierro, the head of the fatui harbingers, is requesting dottore to send one of his subordinates to investigate the scene.

that’s you, you’re dottore’s subordinate.

which means you’ll be sent to investigate an archon’s death. in liyue.

that’s where he is.

your head feels like it’ll explode any second now. the segment, ever so brilliantly clever like his prime version, seems to have the same idea as you and beams a sharp-toothed sadistic grin.

“why my assistant here does seem to be available, wouldn’t you say?” he turns a serpentine stare over to you.

“err… i don’t think i could leave my post here, sir, i am the head nurse after all-“

“nonsense, i doubt the bumbling idiots of this palace will find themselves into anything more troublesome than a papercut while you’re gone.”

oh the irony of hearing that after your… situation the other day. you huff defeatedly, standing up to start packing for your impromptu trip. the mysterious blueprints in the laboratory long forgotten.

—

morepesok hasn’t changed a bit since you left.

which, as much as you love your hometown, isn’t saying much- morepesok is as uneventful as it gets. in such a small seaside snezhnayan village, the only points of interest are the painfully traditional values of fishing and family.

the visit to your parents’ house is brief but comforting, some teary goodbyes and heartfelt words about how pleased and proud they are of what you’ve accomplished for yourself- achieving such a high position in the fatui ranks by merely helping people. you don’t even consider telling them about the doctor.

but what makes you feel worse is the visit to ajax’s family home. it’s like the house has been frozen in time, the place where you spent years of your childhood is intact and unchanged- except for some newer family pictures, of course.

teucer, tonia and anthon are the ones to greet you first, then ajax’s parents come along. huh… ajax. you hadn’t even noticed the switch your brain does whenever you’re back home. here, he’s ajax but in zapolyarny palace, he’s childe or tartaglia. but there’s no time to dig yourself a deeper hole in that topic because you’re presently being pampered like a very own daughter of the house by his parents.

“my dear, look at you! you look so grown and mature… have you been eating well?” his mother walks up to cup your cheeks with the most genuine parental love. she, like the rest of the environment, looks exactly as you remember her, with a few newer white strands betwixt her bright orange curls. well, remember is a strong word.

“tetya, it’s only been a few months since we’ve seen each other, i’m all the same.” you laugh and she reciprocates.

“yes yes, i know… and- oh! as a matter of fact, we saw ajax just this week, said he was being transferred to a northland bank all the way in liyue!”

and when you thought you could not feel shittier about this.

“it is a shame to have our ajax so far from home so suddenly but at least we still have you, dearest!” she grins, pinching your cheek with more vigor than you’ve seen apparent in fatui sergeants.

“hey!” the three younger siblings call out in unison.

“yeah, a-about that, tetya…” you start hesitantly. “i’m… also being transferred to liyue. there have been some unexpected developments and i’ll just be on field to check up on things.”

ajax’s mother huffs incredulously. “by the tsaritsa’s name! they must hate mothers over at that palace!” she shakes her head with disappointment. “speaking of which, have you gone to see your parents yet?” you only nod. “good good… well anyhow, are you in a hurry, dear? i could make you some hot chocolate and then you’re free to be on your way.”

how could you ever deny your tetya’s hot chocolate?

the rest of your stay in the household is spent chatting with the family and playing games with the younger kids, as well as drinking a cup of hot chocolate so delicious you almost cry. the afternoon is nearing its end when you’re walking out the door and teucer is bawling his eyes out at your departure, or maybe he’s just tuckered out.

“have a safe trip, kiddo.” ajax’s father pats you on the shoulder firmly.

“thanks, dyadya, i will.”

“oh! and take care of ajax, make sure he doesn’t get in over his head.” this time it’s tonia who pipes up and the rest of the family nods in agreement.

“bye bye, everyone!” you’re already at the house’s front fence, waving back as fiercely as you can.

the only thing you don’t notice is the knowing look that is shared between tonia and her mother when she mentions ajax.

[nburkhardt]

There might be a lot of them but I mean, how could I not try my hand at this? Especially after watching this and going “yep that hurts”. Granted, I ended up just using the line (“I know he used to be an asshole but…”) instead of going off the sound a whole lot.

Anyway….timeline is all screwed, don’t think about it too hard. Also clearly not canon. Obviously. Only hints of steddie.

~~~~~~

Look, he knows okay? It’s pretty well known across town. It’s no secret and he’s ashamed of it all, it’s something he doesn’t want to reminisce anymore. He’s grown and he thinks he’s better, hopes he’s better. Swears he hasn’t been like that for a few years now, so why does everyone keep bringing it up?

Why does he have to keep proving himself? What does he have to do for them to stop bringing it up?

The first time it happens, he brushes it off. Mostly because it’s true, he was an asshole and he was still learning and breaking himself from who he was. So, it makes sense for Nancy to say it to Barb and then again weeks later to Jonathan. Truth be told, he thinks neither of them believed Nancy.

(it’s a stab straight to the heart when she calls him bullshit)

It’s months before he hears it again, that he nearly forgot the words. It makes him freeze when he hears it from Dustin as he’s cleaning the Byers’s kitchen. The kid is arguing with his friends about why he’s even here. It’s like he’s hit with a bucket of cold water to hear, “sure, he can be an asshole but he’s here to help!”

Sure those words work to help the other kids lay off Dustin’s back, helps make them grumble less about him. But to him? The words sting and it feels worse coming from the kid who he actually likes, thinks they could be close. Clearly there’s a line between them.

He does forget the words, not even an hour later when Billy fucking Hargrove smashes a plate against his head and beats the shit out of him.

Almost a year later and who he was is thrown directly in his face on his first day of work at Scoops. It’s such a slap to the face, not even a full week after his dad cuts him off.

“Thought an asshole like you would on his way to college with daddy’s credit card”

The smile he had on his face just barely falls, mostly because he forces it to stay in place. It also stays because he’s frozen mid-step to introduce himself. Instead, he drops his hand and moves around her and starts working. The words swirling in his head all day, making him stay quiet and just do the job. Even when girls flirt with him, he ignores and works through it.

The “You Suck/You Rule” board came to be a few days later and he sucks it up and is civil with Robin over it, gives it his all to be friendly. If only just to make this job easier and so he doesn’t get fired for being rude. It isn’t until Dustin comes back from camp and the whole Russians and drugs on the floor for Robin to say it again

“You were such an asshole…”

He doesn’t fully hear what she says, it’s hard with the ringing in his ears and his brain froze the minute the word came out.

After it all, even with his brain screaming at him to run away to lick in his wounds, he doesn’t. Forces himself to see one of the EMTs and to help Robin find her parents and promises that she can call whenever she needs something. It’s only after that, that he makes his way home to have a breakdown over it all.

Despite it all, he does call Robin and Dustin his best friends. (Probably his only true friends, if he’s honest.) And he regularly hangs out with them, and sometimes drives Dustin and his friends around. It stops only because he and Robin get jobs at Family Video and the kids start high school.

He breathes easier now, he thinks. He’s been out of high school for a while now, hasn’t been “King Steve” since ‘83. Robin and him are close enough now that he doesn’t freeze anymore, only overthinks their friendship a little bit.

Spring Break rolls around and the moment Dustin and Max storm into Family Video, he’s immediately on edge. Doesn’t show it, of course. The whole search for Eddie Munson, he’s on edge.

He can’t tell if it’s because of the upside down or if those words will make itself known, again.

Everything is a blur, to be honest. Especially after he’s dragged under water and choked by the bats. Nothing really processes for him, it should worry him, actually.

What he does remember is thanking Eddie and being called metal and Eddie saying, “I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude”

That somehow swirls in his head after and he doesn’t get it. He’s spiraling over it, to be honest. Even if he’s also on autopilot making sure no one dies. After it all, rushing everyone to get their wounds checked and to make sure Max is alive, Eddie’s words are still swirling and he’s still confused.

He thinks about it every single day that he visits Eddie in the hospital. The other man isn’t awake, much like Max. He doesn’t speak much during the visits, too busy in his own head. Sometimes he mumbles the words back to a too-still Eddie, sometimes he questions the words and in turn, questions Eddie. Never getting any answers to his questions.

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t actually want answers. Maybe Eddie didn’t mean it, maybe he was just being nice in the moment. And he doesn’t want to hear Eddie say “thanks for saving me, but you’re still an asshole”

If he heard that, he’d probably break.

So, he stays quiet. Much like all those other times his friends called him an asshole.

Weeks go by and he doesn’t bring it up. Doesn’t even mention anything that happened in the upside down, even after Eddie wakes up and they’re friends now. Even after Max wakes up, nearly three months later.

They all regularly hang out together, including Eddie’s band mates. Who he can tell definitely don’t like him. So when they’re around, he doesn’t even bother Eddie. Even if all he wants to do is be near the metal head. But he can see it on their faces when he does stand close to Eddie, they never say anything in front of him and he can’t tell if he feels better about that or if he’d rather they do say with him near.

Ultimately, he hears the words again and causes him to actually have that breakdown he knew was coming.

It’s like the world hates him. Because he was having a good time, he was starting to actually believe Eddie’s words and was inching his way to the man, and of the places it happens at his house.

He’s sitting on a lounge chair watching Dustin try and fail at pushing Lucas into the water. Eddie’s curled up in the lounge chair pushed next to his, they’re talking about nothing in particular and he’s hyper aware of how close they’re getting right now.

“I don’t know, man, maybe-“ Eddie had started to say when someone else’s voice is louder and catches his attention.

“Oh, I know. Steve’s definitely an asshole”

And he freezes immediately, his body going rigid and growing hot, tears well up in his eyes. He can’t hear anything else and his eyes are blurry now but he has to get away. This is too much, he can’t breathe anymore.

He nearly falls into the pool in his rush to get up and away from everyone. He doesn’t even know who said it, not that it mattered right now. All that matters is getting away, he can’t be near them anymore. Needs to be alone, to breakdown by himself.

Why do it in front of all of them when they so clearly think it’s true?

“Steve’s definitely an asshole” swirls in his head as he forces himself to rush to his room. Clearly, they were just keeping him around as a buffer- because why else would any of them keep him around? Better to let the asshole get beat up instead of kids, right?

He falls onto the floor as soon as his door is shut and let’s out the sob that was stuck in his throat.

~~~~

Well that hurt 🥲

(Part two) (part three) (part four) (part five)

[once-upon-a-thigh]

The Truth

Summary: Wanda’s jealousy leads to disastrous circumstances. PERFECT LITTLE SECRET PART 2. 18+

Pairings: Fem!Reader X Milf! Wanda Maximoff, Yelena Belova X Kate Bishop X Fem!Reader (platonic), Fem! Reader X Carol Danvers (brief)

Class: Series; angst, smut

Warnings: First time writing in second person so I’m sorry for that, large age gap (18/37), mommy kink, possessiveness, strap on sex (r receiving), semi-public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, swearing, arguing.

Words: 4k

Life was easier now that your best friends knew of your secret relationship with your 37-year-old neighbour. The days were going by smoother almost now that there was less to hide. As well as, honestly, it was a relief to you that someone knew. By this point you were so incredibly infatuated with the woman it was nice to be able to express the happiness she brought out of you.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone Lena. She just makes me feel so good, and I’m not just talking sexually, Wanda makes me feel more like me than I’ve ever felt before,” you gushed, eyes drooped to the table and unable to make eye contact with the blonde.

She pulled a disgusted face. “That’s the corniest shit I’ve ever heard,” she joked, at least you hope she’s joking.

“She sounds amazing Y/n, I just wish you told us earlier,” Kate, your other friend dropped in to the conversation from the chair opposite you.

“I know,” you whined, “but I had no choice, the least amount of people that know, the better. I can’t imagine what my parents would think if they found out.” You shuddered at the thought.

“Maybe they’ll be fine with it!” The sprightly brunette chimed.

“Don’t be an idiot Kate, what would your mother do if you were in the same situation?” Yelena rebutted.

“Probably throw me down the stairs-“ The three of you jumped when Kate’s sentence was interrupted by the slam of a book on the table.

“How many times am I going to have to tell you three to be quiet?” The librarian hissed, leering over you.

“Maybe just one more time?” Yelena chortled, however her laugh cut suddenly when she met the woman’s pierced eyes.

“Get out,” she hissed, causing the three of you to stand and pack your things hastily and rush out of the library, bumping shoulders along the way.

After giggling over the fact that none of you got any of your work done whilst you were there, you said goodbye before attempting to rush off towards the waiting car outside the gate. However, you were stopped when the pair tightened their grip on your linked arms.

“Any chance your lady friend could give us a lift to your street? We’ll walk from there.” The Russian batted her eyelashes.

“I don’t know guys, we can’t bring too much attention to ourselves…”

“We’ll be careful! Pleeeeeease!” Kate shook your arm, giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, I’ll ask.” You gave in, shaking yourself out of their hold and jogging to the car.

Opening the passenger door, you couldn’t help the grin that instantly arose when you leaned down to see the woman.

“Hey sweet girl.” Her raspy use of the pet name sent shivers down your spine, reminding you of the many times she had used the term of endearment when praising you for the way you moved back your hips to me the rapid thrusts of hers.

“Hiii…” You giggled girlishly, instantly turned shy under her intense stare. “So my friends are wondering if you could drop them off on our street.” You scratched the back of your neck nervously, worried she wouldn’t be fond of the idea.

“Yelena and Kate?” She wondered, biting her lip in thought when you nodded to confirm. “Okay, but they’ve got to keep it down when they get out of the car. We don’t need any nosy neighbours getting in our business.”

“Okay! Thank you.” You clapped your hands happily, and Wanda practically melted at the sight of you being so excited over something so simple. She would do anything for you if it meant she could make you that happy.

You leaned down to lay a kiss on her warm cheek before jogging back to your friends who were playfully trying to tackle each other in the car park.

“Okay dorks, she said you can come but you have to be quiet when we get in the neighbourhood.”

Saluting you, Kate joined your side as you began to make your way back to the car. Yelena however, was stuck glaring at a short-haired blonde waving excitedly in your direction.

“Y/n! Wait up!” Turning towards the call, you noticed Carol Danvers, captain of the softball team and your chemistry partner, making her way towards you.

“God, not this mopho.” Yelena rolled her eyes.

“Quit it, she’s nice,” you reprimanded.

“She’s a stupid jock.” You shushed her reply just as Carol, who obviously heard the comment, stopped in front of you with a glare in the Russian’s direction. Her glare dropped instantly when she looked at you however, instead being replaced with a shy smile.

“Hey captain,” you cheeked, watching as red arose to her cheeks in embarrassment, you’re guessing.

“Hi Y/n, I was wondering if you’re still alright with me coming over today so we can work on the project?” She questioned, reminding you of the chemistry project Miss Harkness had set.

“Oh crap yeah, I totally forgot about that. Sorry.” You both laughed nervously. “But yeah, I’m fine with that.”

“Okay cool, do you just wanna…” she gestured back at her truck, hinting that she would drive you both back to your house to begin the project.

“Oh, actually my, uh, neighbour is driving back my friends and I today. But I’ll text you my address and I’ll meet you there in like an hour?” You almost slipped, having to restrain yourself from referring to Wanda as your girlfriend like you had been around Yelena and Kate for the last week since they found out about your relationship.

“Oh sure!” She nodded sheepishly, clumsily taking a couple steps back towards her truck. “So I’ll see you in an hour?”

“She did just say that blondie,” Yelena drawled.

“But Lena, you’re blonde..” Kate whispered.

Shushing them with your index finger in the air, you nodded kindly at Carol, waving her off with your other hand.

Shouting one last goodbye, you finally approached the car with your friends in tow.

Wanda stayed broodingly quiet when you gave her a peck on the cheek. “Sorry for the wait baby.”

She tapped the wheel with one finger, watching in the rear view mirror as your friends settled themselves in the back of the car.

“Thank you for the ride Miss Maximoff!” Kate politely voiced.

“Mmhm.” She hummed mindlessly, still staring into the rear view mirror.

“Wanda?” You verbalised, looking at her expectantly as she still hadn’t started the car.

“Who was that?” She questioned, still not breaking her gaze from the mirror as she began to drive off. She watched the blonde in the varsity jacket grin as she kept glancing at the car you had disappeared into.

“Who? Carol?” Your eyebrows bunched, completely confused at the woman’s interest in the jock.

“Don’t you mean Captain?” Kate joked, leaning her head in between the front seats and making kissy faces in your direction.

You pushed her back with a hand to her face, shaking your head. “It embarrasses her, it’s funny.” You shrugged.

“No, it turns her on.” Yelena let out a loud laugh.

“What?” Wanda barked. You took hold of the ‘Oh Jesus handle’ as she unintentionally sped up down the street.

“W-what? No-“ You blush, attempting to redeem yourself from the flirting you had inadvertently been taking part in.

“Face it Y/n, the idiot has been trying to get in your pants ever since you grew an ass.” The blonde grinned, leaning back in her seat and watching on as Wanda’s grip on the wheel turned whiter by the second.

You sputtered trying to come up with a reply, before settling with a grumbling “shut up.”

The rest of the drive home was silent other than the quiet music flowing through the radio. As soon as Wanda settled the car into her driveway, the duo in the back seats were clambering out, muttering their goodbyes. As soon as they left, Wanda grabbed hold of your neck and pulled you against her. Teeth clashed as she moved her lips against yours hastily, forcing every bit of resentment she held for the blonde she never met into the kiss.

Taking hold of the hair at the back of your head, she pulled you back so you were staring up at her uncomfortably. You didn’t mind though, as you were too busy imagining all the punishments she would possibly induce if it wasn’t for her boys being home from school.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” she hissed, cupping your chin and squeezing your cheeks.

“Open your mouth,” she ordered firmly as you resisted her efforts. Giving in to her demand, your mouth dropped open. She smirked deviantly before spitting directly on your tongue. She tapped your chin until you closed your mouth, smearing the spit that missed across your lips with her ring-clad thumb. “Swallow.”

You did so instantly, making her laugh devilishly. “That’s my good girl. You would never want anyone other than your mommy to take care of you, would you?”

Her grip loosened enough for you shake your head dumbly.

“Words,” she spat.

“No mommy,” you muttered.

“Good girl. I want you to come over tomorrow whilst the boys are with their father.” She brushed her thumb over your blushed cheek softly. It was a command, but that didn’t irk you.

“Okay,” you smiled excitedly, “is 2pm okay?”

“Perfect.” She kissed you softly, with a gentleness that was completely opposite to the possessiveness she has previously displayed.

———————————————-

After taking a chilling shower to cool yourself down following your lover’s teasing, you hastily ran around your room picking up clothing and clearing space on your desk ready for your guest. Hearing the ring of the doorbell, you surveyed your room carefully to ensure there was nothing embarrassing around before making your way to the front door.

“Carol, hey!” You greeted, moving aside so the softball player could step inside. You led the nervous blonde to your room, thoroughly warning her of the mess before she could step inside. Your pestering over the mess was enough to distract you from the attentive gaping from the woman across the road.

Soon the two of you were sat on your bed cross-legged facing each other, open books between you and nothing written down.

“I really think using marbles in class is a bad idea, what if we drop them all?” You laugh, imagining your grumpy teacher finally slipping in those heels.

“But think about how much better it’ll be to display the types of bonding compared to a PowerPoint, which you know everyone is going to do,” she tilted her head at you, leaning forward and smiling teasingly.

“I guess you’re right,” you huff. Despite the boring context, you found yourself enjoying Carol’s company. You were happy to expand your friendship group beyond dumb and dumber. Carol is outgoing, kind, funny, leaning in startlingly close to your face, wait what?

Chapped lips meet yours gently, unmoving. Carol was cautious with the kiss, pulling back when she didn’t feel you melt in to it like she hoped you would.

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, seemingly shocked by her own actions. “I just- I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. I really like you Y/n.”

You couldn’t help but flush at the revelation.

“Oh, Carol. I’m sorry but I’m actually seeing someone,” you frowned apologetically.

“Oh. Who? If you don’t mind me asking?” Carol felt a surge of jealousy, clenching her fists in an attempt to keep control of her emotions. You were Y/n, and so she remained as polite as possible whilst avoiding eye contact.

You bit your lip, wondering if you should tell the truth or not. You decided against it, not wanting to risk your relationship. “You don’t know her, she doesn’t go to our school.”

She laughed, getting up from the bed and shaking out her tense muscles. “Well maybe I’ll see her at varsity then if we’re playing against her school. Maybe then I can fight for your hand.” She winked teasingly, though you sensed a little truth in her words.

The atmosphere was quite awkward after that interaction, and so you gave her her section of the work and promised to buy the marbles for your presentation.

After she had left with an awkward one-armed hug to say goodbye, you couldn’t help the guilt that began to reside. You hadn’t kissed Carol back, and you know you don’t have feelings for her. But you didn’t push her away. You narrowed it down to the shock and confusion that led to you being so slow to react, but you still felt telling Wanda about what happened was the right thing to do.

———————————————————

It was time to go see Wanda, and it was an understatement to say you were nervous. Usually you would be ecstatic to go see your lover, but an angry Wanda was not usually something to look forward to, and a part of you couldn’t help the terrifying thoughts of her leaving you.

“Hello? Wanda?” You called out after helping yourself into the house.

“Up here babygirl!” You heard her raspy voice ring from up the stairs. She sounded like she was in a good mood, you couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

Making your way up the stairs towards the master bedroom, you gave yourself a mental pep talk to prepare yourself for her wrath. With one last deep breathe, you pushed open the bedroom door to see the beauty rifling through her closet.

Closing the doors, she made her way towards you and reached for your hips, tugging your body against hers instantly.

“I was just sorting through the closet to make room for some of your stuff for when you stay over more during the summer,” she grinned. The boys were going to a summer camp for the summer holidays, and so you planned a number of sleepovers. Her brunette hair tickled your cheeks as she leaned down to capture your lips in her own, however despite her cuteness you couldn’t help but let the feeling of guilt grow. Turning your head at the last second, her puckered lips pressed against your cheek chastely.

Pulling back, eyebrows furrowed, her concerned gaze shot at your heart.

“What’s wrong detka?” Her lips pout.

Pulling away from her, you took a seat on the edge of the bed. Reading the serious atmosphere, Wanda took a seat next to you.

“Okay so,” you paused. “Carol came over last night to walk on a chemistry project with me, because we’re partners.”

Wanda’s jaw clenched and her fists turned white. Though she nodded, as if she already knew.

Despite her obvious detest of the blonde, you carried on. “And, I don’t know what happened but apparently the girls were right about that crush she may or may not have on me…”

“What happened?” Her voice gritted through her teeth. The woman was ready to get in her car and find the dumb jock herself.

“She kissed me.”

Wanda stood up, hands gripping her hair as she seethed.

“It meant nothing, I didn’t even kiss back!” You retaliated, shaking your leg nervously.

You were expecting yelling and swearing. However, Wanda’s rigid back relaxed as she let out a long sigh. The strong hands entwined with her hair moved down her face until they dropped to her sides. Turning around after a minute, she dropped to her knees and braced her hands on your legs.

“Shh, relax baby. I’m not mad at you.” She brushed her thumb against one of your cheeks, calming your worried panting.

“You’re not?” Your eyes turned watery in relief.

“No, it’s not your fault you’re so damn enticing. And I know you would never disrespect mommy like that, would you?” Her resting hands began to grip your thighs.

“No mommy, never.” You shook your head desperately, eager to please.

“That’s my good girl.” A smile rose on your face at the praise. Who knew you would be let off this easily?

“But..” Oh. “I think you still need to be reminded of who you belong to.”

A gasp escaped you when she took hold of your sides and pulled you up from the bed. Fast as lightning she had your clothes off of you and was pressing your chest against the cold window, causing your nipples to perk up painfully. You stayed in that position like a good girl as she moved around behind you, following her rules. However, as you looked at your parents car parked at the quiet house across the street, you grew nervous.

“Wa- mommy, what if someone sees?” You caught yourself before making the mistake of using her name, one that would surely result in a punishment.

She leans over you, you gasp when you feel her naked chest pressed against your back and something solid prodding between your legs.

She chuckles. “What? Are you worried about everyone seeing what a whore you are for your mommy?”

You merely whimper in response, mind turning dumb as you lean your hips back to gain some friction against her strap.

“Look at you, falling apart for my cock.” Wanda took hold of your hair, arching your head back so she can whisper seductively in your ear.

At this moment, you no longer cared about who could possibly walk past and see you. All you wanted was Wanda. “Please.”

She moved a hand down to grip her strap, running the head through your already soaked folds. “Did you beg like this for that bitch you saw yesterday too, slut?” She thrusted against you slightly, causing the head to prod at your hole.

“N-no mommy! I promise!” Your eyes filled with tears as you felt your hole gradually be filled by the thick shaft.

“You’re mine,” she grunted as she filled you with a quick buck of her hips. You screamed at the intrusion, but her pace did not falter. She thrusted assertively, ploughing into you with intent on driving the idea of her ownership into you.

“Fuck!” She grunted, laying a hard slap on your ass as she continued to drive her hips against you. “You like this slut?” She panted from behind you.

“Yes mommy,” you squealed when she pulled out of you and flipped you around, grabbing under your thighs and pulling you up onto her muscular waist. The faux cock pushed into you again. She bucked short and fast thrusts into you, the sound of skin slapping filled the room alongside your loud moans.

One hand cupped your ass whilst the other reached up to grip your chin, forcing you to look into her eyes. “Look at me,” she demanded.

Your glazed eyes met her fiery ones, your mouth dropped open whilst she bit her bottom lip to keep her grunts in.

The coil in your stomach began to unravel as her thrusting did not relent. Her hips began to stutter as you came, your walls sucking the cock inside you further. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” You whimpered.

Wanda moaned as she too began to reach her peak. Pressing herself against you, she dropped her head on your shoulder as she ground against you, driving you further into the window. Glancing up from your glistening skin as she came, she made eye contact with the same blonde she had seen earlier standing on your porch. The older woman grinned as the blonde dropped the flowers she was holding onto the ground, walking away in a strop. Her thrusts slowed as she laid a delicate kiss on your shoulder before pulling out the piece and lowering your shaky legs to the ground.

Your knees immediately buckled, but her strong arms supported you. Carrying you over to the bed, she lowered you gently with a forgiving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered.

—— the next day ——

You were sat at home on a Sunday night, watching tv alone and missing your lover. Wanda’s kids had just got back that evening, and so you couldn’t stay over without raising suspicion. Plus, your parents would never let you sleep over at “Yelena’s” on a school night.

“Y/n, your mother and I are going to visit a friend that has been having some problems, we probably won’t be back until you’re asleep.” Your dad rounded the sofa to speak to you, shrugging on his jacket.

“Oh, okay.” You feigned a frown, instead excited to use the excuse to see Wanda. It’s not often she gets to visit your room.

“Bye sweetheart,” your mother waved as she left the house. For some reason, you felt her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. The thought was pushed to the back of your mind however when your head flooded with images of Wanda sinfully lying in your bed.

Watching your dad’s car leave the drive, you were quick to shoot Wanda a text.

Parents have gone out for a few hours, are the boys asleep? - Y/n

I’ll be right over. - Wanda

She didn’t take much convincing of course. Before you knew it, the woman was pushing you down onto the family couch, suffocating you with her lustful kisses. Soft moans left the both of you as your hands travelled along the curves of the other. You had only touched her yesterday, and yet you just couldn’t get enough.

Your hands were just slipping under the hem of her shirt when you were forced to break away at the sound of the front door slamming against the wall.

“Mum, Dad,” your eyes widened as your parents walked into the room, disappointment clear on their face.

Wanda jumped up from the couch, straightening out her clothes as she cleared her throat. “Darren, Mindy, it’s not-“

“Shut it cougar!” Your mother interrupted.

“Oh god,” you whined embarrassed, dropping your head into your hands.

“Y/n, how could you let yourself be manipulated by this woman? What you have been doing is completely unacceptable,” she continued.

“We haven’t been doing anything!” You wailed, tears beginning to drop over your flushed cheeks.

“Oh please, don’t lie to us. Your friend told us about what she saw.” Your father pointed at you, his finger shaking in fury as his face scrunched up in disgust towards the end of his claim.

The comment confused you, there was no way Yelena or Kate would say anything about your relationship with your neighbour.

“Friend?” Before either of your parents could settle your curiosity, the blonde jock who had recently kissed you walked into the house nervously.

“Carol? What?” You looked at her disturbed, how did she know?

“I’m sorry Y/n,” she wrung her fingers together nervously. “But I had to show you that what this woman is doing to you is wrong,” she gestured towards the woman, who was growing angrier by the minute.

“You little-“ Before Wanda could continue with her insult, you turned to her, tears further clouding your vision as you began to realise just what had happened.

“She saw us?” You questioned, confirming your parents suspicions. “You let her see us? How could you do that.” How could she put your relationship in jeopardy like that?

She turned her full attention to you, attempting to step in your direction but was faltered when your father drew closer to her. “Baby, I’m sorry I just needed her to see that you are mine-“

Your mother scoffed, “don’t you dare call her that. You’re disgusting, she is a child!”

“Mum! I’m not a child, I’m 18,” you declared firmly, crossing your arms.

“You’re not even finished with school yet Y/n, this woman is sick, and is using you for her disgusting sexual gratification.”

“It’s not like that,” Wanda butted in, ignoring the menacing look your father is yet to drop. “I love her.”

Your heart soared, but you couldn’t enjoy the moment with your parents staring you down.

“I want you to leave my house, and never return,” your father blocked her view of you as he took another threatening step towards her. “If I ever see you around my daughter again, I will be telling everyone in town about what you have done. You will be a disgrace, your sons will never look at you the same again.”

You could see Wanda’s attempt at bravery falter, you immediately began to sob. This great love was over. Taking a step back, she walked out of the house quietly, with one last longing look in your direction, beautiful green eyes filled with tears.

———————————————

Sorry it took so long! I haven’t had a moment to myself. Hope you enjoyed.

Love, Meg xx

[weskin-time]

Rest

Captain John Price x GN!Reader

youre a prideful idiot who wont take a break even when their body is screaming at them to heal and rest, and Price humbles you.

not beta read

i know more about the air force than i know about the army. i used to be in ROTC so i have very faint ideas on how the military works im also still loopy on pain meds so i apologize for any mistakes this also just fuckin sucks ass im sorry.

I took the saying "fuck the military" too literally and now im writing fics for old british army men

You were the definition of exhausted. For three weeks you were deployed out to a frigid Russian forest trying to find the location of some worthless man. You were sent out with a team of men to lead this mission, you knew you could handle it, you knew Gaz and the other men who came with you could handle it, but no one can handle Russian winters better than Russians.

It had been a useless hunt at first, slow and steady making your way through bases and killing dozens of men before you got intel on where the man you were looking for was hiding. After three weeks in Russia, you finally arrived back home with new intel and the man in question captured.

Your bones ached with chill that never left you, as if the snow had sunk itself into your flesh and kissed your bones, your fingers ached the most, even through heavy gloves you could never shake the numbing chill. Your body felt heavy as if your collar bones weighed 40 pounds, every breath you took was deep and sore, you legs were made of lead as you limped from the helicopter pads to the weapons bay. Your eyes strained in the darkness of the night and you tried your hardest to not close them as you walked the path. You didn't have time to sleep or rest you had to clear and turn in your guns before even thinking of rest, you had paperwork to fill out, reports needed to be made to be processed, a meeting with Captain Price and Laswell needed to be scheduled, you didnt even want to think about the paper work you needed to fill out for capturing a man, and you told Gaz you would take his weapons to the bay to clear them for him so he could get some much needed rest. He looked the worst out of the two of you and you couldn't just not help him and his puppy dog eyes, the two of you were very close even though you were a higher rank than him, which he hated the hell of and you teased him for it.

You did sustain a few injuries over the three weeks, sprained left ankle, you were stabbed in the same leg in the thigh, and a bunch more cuts and bruises but those were minor, Gaz helped you patch up your stab wound as you tried not to punch him out of reflex when he got out a needle and thread. Gaz took a few scrapes here and there but he mostly was just exhausted from the cold, probably more than you were, or maybe he flashed you his puppy dog eyes knowing your heart couldn't say no to him, either way he was probably already resting up in his warm bed trying to sleep away the cold ache.

You noticed you were slightly swaying when you entered the weapons bay, your limp wasn't the only thing causing it, you were exhausted, but there was no time to rest. Not surprising that the bay was empty, it was almost 1am and almost everyone from your squad was sound asleep in their beds, lucky them. You didnt know or care at the moment with what they do with the Russian captive, youll figure it out after the meeting with Price and Laswell.

Setting down Gaz's sniper you began to de-arm yourself taking the M17 from your thigh holster and the M4 off you back, unloading the clips and mags from them and began to take them apart for cleaning. Cleaning guns was always fun for you, taking them apart and putting them back together, the little clicks and sounds they made were satisfying. Your eyelids felt more like lead as you took apart the pistol, you swear you blinked for a second and when you opened them back up again your head was almost on the table, you knew you were tired but you didnt think you were that tired. You exhaled and scrunched your eyes closed before opening them wide as if that would help you. Youre so sore you can feel the muscles in your shoulders straining as you picked up Gaz's rifle and began to clear that. There was no time to sleep you needed to get so many things done before you even had the idea of resting, you wondered if Ghost ever got this way and you wondered what could keep him up for so long and maybe you could pull the answer out of him.

"Master Sargent Y/L/N!" Rang a deep British voice, husky like whiskey and cigar smoke, Captain Price has entered the building.

You stood up fast from where you were sitting, shooting up straight and turning around as you stood at attention and saluted your commanding officer, the little surprise woke you up enough to jolt you fast enough. You took him in as he walked to you, why the fuck was he still wearing that dumb bucket hat at 1am? He was without his gear, just wearing an army green tight cotton shirt that was tucked into his light sand camo cargo pants and held up with a belt. You tried your hardest to keep your eyes straight ahead of you at attention but it was very hard not to stare at the way the shirt hugged him way too well. It was still loose enough to leave some idea of what was underneath to your imagination but tight enough to shift and move over his muscles as he walked to you. Gaz and you one time joked that he looked like a cranberry farmer or a dad who got into fishing after retiring with that bucket hat on his head. He was in his late 30s but you swear he was one of the most attractive men you've ever seen in your life, even his weird beard was hot on him.

"At ease kid." He stood next to you and watched you slightly relax out of attention and sit back down to work on the guns again.

"What're you doing up this late Captain?" you asked him as you began to finish up Gaz's gun to avoid his blue stare.

"Just got done talking to Gaz about your mission, wanted to check in to see how things went with you." you were grateful you could have a small debriefing now to get one thing out of the way before you had to work on the rest of everything else. He placed a large hand on your shoulder, putting some weight on your sore body and asked about the mission to which you tried your hardest not to slur your words in a sleepy haze as you gave a simple report of everything, keeping in the story of your injuries and how you got them.

His hand was so big his palm alone covered your shoulder by itself and they were so warm too, it almost unfroze your aching bones just by his touch alone, and the warmth lightly spread to your face, which tickled your eyes making them even more sleepy. You wondered why he put it there in the first place and why he was slightly leaning on you.

"I wanted to have a small word with you." he announced after you finished up the short debrief. your interest was peaked quickly at his words and you sheepishly looked up at him in confusion. He took a small breath in before sighing, "I'm putting you on leave Sargent."

That peaked something that wasn't pleasant in you. Call yourself stubborn because you instantly began to drag your heels into the conversation, "Price I cant go on leave!"

"Just for a week at most y/n." His voice was that of a parent telling their child that they couldn't get Maccas on the way home.

"I have so much I have to do, I cant just sit on my ass while everyone else gets on with it." You argued although your brain was a tad fuzzy from how his hand was on you and the lack of sleep so your arguing wasn't very good in the slightest.

"You're exhausted, I can see it in your eyes kid-"

You cut him off, "Im not-"

"Let me finish solider."

You fell quiet.

"You do this every time you get back from a mission that you're commanding." He explained. "You get back on base and while everyone else takes a few days off to heal and rest you run around like a bloody chicken with its head cut off trying to get work done. I'm helping you out here y/n."

Your ego didn't like that. "Sir I'm fine, I'll get sleep tonight and I'll be chipper by morning, good as new." You tried to be polite with your arguing back.

"And what? Walk around on that healing leg of yours?" His eyes flicked to your left thigh before meeting your eyes again. "I saw you limping when you got off the helo. I think you're the first solider that's fought with me about getting a break."

"I'm alright Captain, really, I'll just finish up here then go to bed and I'll be back to myself in no time tomorrow and get all the reports and paper work ready and done." If you weren't so sluggish you would have felt more anger bubbling in your throat then the little spark that you felt now. Your words were slurring slightly and you knew deep down he was right but you didn't want to hurt your pride and admit it.

"Stand up." He ordered.

Confused you tried to push your body up but was completely halted by his hand on your shoulder. He wasn't even leaning his full weight onto you and your thighs shook at you trying to stand up against him, this should have been easy but it felt like your body was shutting down, you were being provided proof in what he was saying was true and even then you still tried to fight it, but nothing came of it. Were you really that weak? You weren't weak. This should be nothing compared to what you can do normally and yet you felt a sting on your ego. Your whole body protested trying to get up again.

You hung your head in a sign as you stopped trying. A very very tired part of your brain popped up with the thought of liking this weird imbalance of power being displayed, it liked the way he looked when you had to crane your sore neck up to see him, loved the way his eyes felt as they looked down upon you. You need to shut that part of your brain off before you eat your own shoes.

"It's an order Sargent." his voice was firm.

Some dumb part of you had one weak last attempt at an argument in you as you slurred, "I'm not even that tired." and as soon as it left your mouth you cringed at how fucking stupid you sounded.

"Oh come on that was pathetic." he was right it was a very pathetic last attempt.

Your eyes trailed up his toned arms and to his eyes, "Fine."

"Good cause you had no choice. I already had it approved." He blew out some air from his nose in a small laugh.

A break did sound nice, the thought of your shitty cot and thin blanket sounded like heaven to you, like the thought alone lifted your bones of some of the deep ache. You knew your past actions labeled you as stubborn, stubborn enough to warrant this entire situation. You probably were the only solider in the world who protested a vacation. You sighed as he removed his hand from your shoulder, the anger you once felt sloshing away down the drain as your head began a dull thrumming.

"Cant have one of my best men running around like that sweetheart." his voice was course and sent a shiver down your spine, you closed your eyes and mulled over the pet name in your head, you loved the way it made your heart flutter and your chest tighten. If only would call you soft names all the time, you dont think you could get tired of hearing him talk ever.

Your eyes opened wide when you felt a thumb and a finger pinch your chin and force you to look up, your eyes looked into his blue ones in tired confusion mixed with shock. Your face felt even warmer than before, it spread from your face down your neck and seeped into your aching bones and began to thaw them out, the warm that you so missed in those weeks settled into your flesh.

"Hey, how about i take you out tomorrow? There's this new pub Soap wants me to try and since you're not doing anything might as well come with me for a drink or two."

You have to be so very tired with how long it took to register in your mind that your captain was asking you out on a fucking date. You just sat there for a second in shock before your brain caught up to your ears and sent your heart into overdrive. You were defiantly not tired anymore.

"I-, wha- uh, yea sure! i mean." You were so flustered that you fumbled over your words which made you even more flustered. "Yea I would love that, it would be fun Price." you coughed out finally.

"Good. I'll come by your flat in the afternoon." He leaned down to you and he pulled you closer to him by your chin. "Now please go get some sleep, kid. Youll need it for tomorrow sweetheart." and placed a kiss to your forehead before turning away and leaving you as if he didnt just ask you on a date, call you pet names, and kiss your forehead. His beard was scratchy and the skin still tickled after he departed but it felt nice, comforting. You totally didnt stare at his ass as he walked away and left the weapons bay. How the fuck are you going to be able to sleep now??

[aloneinthehellfire]

Missing

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Straight after the Battle Of Starcourt, panic was in the air. The mall was going up in flames, another Hawkins cover-up, as the kids reunited with their families. Everyone was on-edge, especially since they barely escaped with their lives. Their minds were running a hundred miles per hour as they couldn’t focus on one thought. But not Steve. All he could think was that in all the chaos, you were no where to be found.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: swearing, aftermath of the starcourt battle, mentions of torture (russians), mentions of wounds and blood, death, guns, some fluff at the end cause I was feeling nice

[A/N: This is only a one-shot, mostly because I have no idea how I would continue this but I had a random thought at 1am and this is what happened. And yes, it’s pretty angsty what else did you expect? It's also all over the place cause I was racing to finish it before I fell asleep]

Missing

Sirens sounded as firetrucks rushed to the Starcourt Mall, the building currently up in flames as the party sat in ambulances, covered in dirt and grime as they clung to the blankets wrapped around them.

Parents rushed over to comfort their children with open arms, worry and relief mixed in the air as they reunited. All anyone could think was how lucky they were to be out alive.

But that wasn’t on Steve’s mind.

“Where’s Y/n?” He looked to Robin sat beside him, a medic attempting to attend to his wounds while he brushed them away, too concerned for your safety to care about the bruises right now.

“She’s…” Robin scanned the crowd only for her eyebrows to furrow deeper and deeper. “I have no idea.”

“I need you to sit still.” The medic said, trying their best to do their job.

“Later.” Steve simply said before slipping off the blanket around him and standing from the back of the ambulance, hands on hips as he searched around the space.

“Sorry.” Robin mumbled to the medic as she joined him, rushing to his side when he set off into the parking lot.

Steve’s heart raced faster every moment you weren’t there with him. After the Mind Flayer was beaten, he hadn’t had time to run to you and grab your hand before men in uniforms dragged him and the others away from the site.

You had been stood over Billy, tears falling from your eyes as you looked down in horror. He was your friend, someone only you knew past all of his horrid defences. When he had moved to Hawkins, you were the quiet kid always getting pushed around and bullied. It only got worse in your senior year but Billy had quickly put an end to it. After time, he had opened up to you about his childhood and you helped him better himself; to make amends to those he did wrong. But it only led him to become one of the Flayed and your presence only made him realise that the only way he could make any of it right was to prove himself in the most ultimate redemption; sacrifice.

Steve wanted to console you when he saw Billy die. He knew how much the guy meant to you, even if he hated him himself. He couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to watch someone you care about die to protect you. The whole walk to the ambulance had him spiralling, calling your name. He only stopped when a man in uniform assured him that you’d be led out safely.

“She couldn’t have gone far.” Robin muttered, her voice rising in panic as she began to understand Steve’s worry. “Did she even get checked out at the ambulance?”

They continued walking, combing back through their memories as they tried to muster up any kind of hint as to where you would be.

His movement came to a halt when Steve remembered the interrogation. He had been pretty out of it at the time, head constantly throbbing from the torture. The dots didn’t connect until just now.

“Leave him alone!” You screamed as another punch landed on Steve’s already bruised face.

You had been taken away first, much to Steve and Robin’s protests. The Russians had interrogated you for what seemed like hours, never laying a finger on you. Once they realised you weren’t gonna talk, they dragged Steve out to join you and used him to convince your confession.

“He didn’t do anything!” You cried as you watched the blood spill down Steve’s face, chest tightening.

“Just tell us who you work for.” The man spat at you, grabbing Steve’s face and tilting it towards you, “Or your friend dies.”

Steve’s eyes were fluttering open and closed as he tried to focus on you sat there, arms restricted to your seat in a tight bind of ropes. His blurry vision didn’t hide the tears he saw streaming down your face.

It was almost funny to him, the fact that he was the one getting beaten yet he couldn't stop the anger in his chest from what they were doing to you.

That's just what love did to someone, he supposed.

“Please.” You begged.

The man raised his arm, curling his hand into a fist and Steve didn’t flinch. He’d rather take a million punches than have the man lay a finger on you instead. He squeezed his eyes shut, ready for impact.

But the fist never made contact with his face.

Steve opened his eyes to see that you were no longer in the chair. In the blink of an eye, you had broken free from your restraints, holding a pocket knife in your hand as you ran at the Russian with a yell, tackling him to the ground.

But the Russian had an advantage in strength, using it to grab you by your throat and throw you against the wall.

“NO!” Steve yelled out, attempting a swing at him. He was unsuccessful, to say the least, when he was pushed to the floor, body crashing into the chair.

A small gasp left your lips and Steve looked up to see the man had taken hold of your pocket knife, pointing it directly at your throat as he stared down at him.

“Maybe you will be more useful.” He glared and Steve’s heart leapt to his throat.

“I told you. We work at Scoops Ahoy-”

The knife was pressed further into your throat, finally breaking skin as a small red line fell from the pressure.

“No. Where does she work?” He asked again and Steve shook his head in confusion.

The man sighed in frustration, letting go of you and you collapsed to the floor. Steve would have felt relieved if the hard sole of a boot hadn't crashed into his jaw, tearing skin.

“Tell me!” The man yelled now and Steve couldn’t help it; he whimpered. And that’s all it took for your heart to tear into a million pieces.

“He doesn’t know.” You croaked out between sobs and the man stopped, a smirk creeping onto his lips.

“Finally.”

With a whistle, two more men entered the room and walked to Steve, grabbing him by the arms and dragging him away. He had no energy to fight it as his feet trailed behind him, leaving you.

The next time he saw you was after Dustin’s rescue mission, your tear stained cheeks and blood dripping from your torn lip laying beneath guilty eyes.

“The Russian base.” Steve realised, taking off while Robin barely had time to react.

“But it blew up!” She yelled after him, running when he didn’t stop.

Steve’s legs took him faster than he thought possible as he passed through the loading bay gates, skidding to a halt when all he saw was rubble and smoke.

“Dude.” Robin panted, hands on her knees when she finally caught up. “Did you not remember the ‘kaboom’? The gate’s gone.”

“What if some of them made it out?” He wondered and she frowned at him, shaking her head.

“‘Kaboom’.” She reminded him, eyes riddled with concern. “How the hell would anyone make it out in time?”

Steve was about to give up hope when something caught his eye. A flash of dark green near the surrounding forest and he grabbed onto Robin’s arm.

“Ow! What-” Her eyes widened when she saw it too. “Steve. Don’t-”

But it was too late. Steve was already running after them, ignoring the loud groan from his friend behind him as she complained about all the running.

He was jumping over roots, dodging trees as he tried to keep the figure in his line of view, breath quickening with excursion. Thank god for his jock era in high school.

His feet brought him closer and closer, eyes able to finally notice that the figure wasn’t alone.

Suddenly, their movement stopped and Steve grabbed onto a nearby tree abruptly, pulling himself behind it before the figure looked back at the noise. When he was sure he wasn’t seen, he poked his head out around the trunk and finally had a clear view of what was happening.

He immediately recognised the figure as the Russian that tortured him and his blood boiled. He was holding a gun, his uniform scorched and it looked like he had only just escaped from the fiery blast. From this distance, Steve could see the man’s lips moving but heard no words leaving his mouth. He was talking to someone.

That’s when he saw it; the person on the ground below the man slowly aiming his gun. Messy hair, a bruised face. And a sailor’s uniform that matched his own.

“Steve.” Robin whispered harshly, leaning against him for support as she took breaths as quietly as she could. “What’s-”

“Y/n.” She spoke once she noticed you on the ground not far from them, your eyes fixated on the weapon threatening your life. “Oh my god.”

You stared up at the man above you, eyes filling with fearful tears.

For years, you had been hidden away from them, your father afraid of what they’d do to you if they found you. You were never close with your father; he and you rarely were on the same page. His work kept him away from home but you preferred it that way.

He was a traitor, switching sides and double-crossing the Commies working beneath Hawkins. They had finally caught him in the beginning of the summer. You had seen the whole thing, hiding in the bushes when you saw your father was being dragged from your home by men with guns. After digging, you found out he had worked for Hawkins’ lab; the very place that brought monsters you ended up fighting with your friends. But once he found out what they were really planning, he had begun searching for a way to stop them.

The group of people he joined was unknown to everyone else. They had come looking for you when he disappeared, employing you to find out where the Russians’ base was. In hopes of finding your father, you agreed and with the help of your co-workers and Dustin, you found it.

You shouldn’t have tempted fate.

That's how you ended up here; the man had escaped the explosion and found you in the chaos, pulling you away into the woods before you could cry for help.

“It’s a shame.” The man spat, cocking the gun. “That your father isn’t here to see this.”

“Fuck you.” You say and he lets out a cold laugh.

“Farewell, American.”

Before his finger pulled the trigger, a loud and unexpected yell arose from within the forest. You both snapped your heads to the noise and your eyes widened when you saw Steve Harrington running from the woods in a flash of fury.

Steve took the man by surprise, practically flying as he tackled him to the ground and landed a hard punch to the nose. The gun was dropped in the chaos and you reached over to it.

Your hands gripped the gun just as Steve was pushed away. The man’s face was bloodied from Steve’s revenge beating and he scrambled to his feet, searching the ground until he froze.

Robin ran out from the trees with a fallen branch in her arms and stopped in shock as she stared at you.

You had risen from the ground, gun in hand as you aimed it at the man in front of you, blinded by anger.

“Y/n.” Robin squeaked out.

“Do it.” The man ordered, a cruel smirk on his lips. “Kill me. Just like I killed him.”

“Y/n.” It was Steve’s voice this time, pulling your eyes away.

He was looking to you with a soft gaze, slowly approaching you as your hand shook.

You weren’t a killer. He knew that. He knew you.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you took a breath, looking back to the real murderer in front of you.

“You don’t deserve the mercy.” You finally say as you lower the gun, chucking it across the floor and into the grass.

Steve offered a smile as you slumped your shoulders, meeting his eyes. He crossed the space, hand reaching your shoulder just as another taunting laugh filled the air.

“Stupid, stupid girl.” The man started walking to you, eyes narrowed. “Do you really think you can-”

Robin swung the tree branch in her arm so hard, it snapped in half as it made contact with the back of his head, leaving him in an unconscious heap on the forest floor.

Robin stared at the bottom half of the branch in her hands, eyes wide.

“Rob,” You say, grinning, “you just knocked the shit out of him.”

Steve let out a surprised laugh and Robin nodded.

“Damn, right.” She grinned, dropping the weapon and running over to you.

“I think you just saved my life.” You laughed shakily.

Before you could react, she pulled you into a tight hug and you finally relaxed against her. She pulled away after a moment, glancing between you and Steve.

“I may have hit a Commie around the head with a twig but Steve’s the real hero.” Robin smiled and Steve whipped his head up in surprise. “He’s the one that realised you weren’t there. Wouldn’t shut up about it until we found you.”

You looked to him with wide eyes and he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Uh… yeah, I mean, it’s no big deal or anything. I just, yeah.” He mumbled out, rambling.

“I’m gonna grab some cops to take care of this guy.” Robin pointed down at the man and then to the forest. “So… yeah.”

She quickly walked away, a smirk on her lips as she left you and Steve behind, still looking at one another.

“Thank you.” You smile, tears forming for a whole new reason.

“Anytime.” Steve replied without thinking, shaking his head when the nerves kicked in once again, “Not that this sort of thing will happen again. Or maybe it will. I don’t know, Hawkins is a freaky place so who knows what other thing is gonna-”

“Steve.” You say softly, voice barely a whisper. He lets out a sigh.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He takes a breath, mustering up the courage to step forward, the space between you so miniscule you could feel his breath, “I’m always going to worry about you. And I’m always going to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe. Because if I’m being honest, I can’t stop thinking about you. And- and I get if you don’t feel the same way but if I didn’t tell you before something else happened, I-”

You break off his rant with a kiss, pulling him close. Your lips were gentle against his, careful of his wounds and your busted lip. His hand found your waist while the other cradled your neck, dipping his head further. Your heart fluttered with every moment, internally screaming with glee at the fact that the boy you’ve been crushing on for three years finally liked you back.

The kiss was broken when the man laying on the ground let out a pained groan, waking from his forced slumber. Steve held up his finger as if asking you to wait a moment and he picked up part of Robin’s branch. When the man raised his head groggily, Steve swiftly hit him back into a sleep, the force flipping the man over.

“That felt good.” Steve grinned before dropping the branch and finding your lips again.

“Finally!” Robin’s voice called out and you both turned to her, laughing. “Oh, I brought friends.”

Soldiers from the mall clean-up swarmed in behind her, grabbing the man from the floor and dragging him away with a few mutters into their radios.

You simply watched, Robin stood at your side as Steve intertwined your hand with his.

“So…” You purse your lips, your recent high slowly crashing down as the night’s events started taking effect, “what now?”

You all exchanged glances before Steve came to a decision. “Why don’t we all stay at mine tonight? My parents aren’t there.”

He made it sound casual but it was a relief to all of you as you nodded in approval, making your way back through the forest. None of you wanted to be alone.

Steve's hand grasped yours tightly as you all walked to the parking lot, his chest a little lighter knowing you were safe.