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wavypotatochips · 6 months

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Elevator Mishap || Central Cee

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : CentralCee x Female reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : You find yourself trapped in an elevator with a mysterious stranger who turns out to be the famous rapper Central Cee in disguise. [FLUFF/ LIGHT TENSION]

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HIIIII GUYS omg so much stuff has happened personally in my life but I am back and better!! Central Cee is so fine and I just always wanted to write something with him lol. Its been a while since I have wrote something, so bare with me c': I have no requests, so feel free to send some in!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

"I find it hard to believe I'm actually here," you murmur under your breath, a mix of disbelief and disinterest coloring your tone as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor. While most girls would gush with excitement at the prospect of attending a Central Cee concert in the UK alongside their best friends, Stacey and Rosalina, you find yourself unable to share in their fervor. The trio, inseparable since middle school, practically dragged you along when they scored free tickets to the concert, complete with all expenses paid. Despite their infectious enthusiasm for Central Cee, you couldn't summon the same level of excitement, feeling rather indifferent towards his music. Meanwhile, your best friends are back in the hotel room, immersed in making TikToks while belting out Central Cee's tunes. You made an excuse about needing to run down to the convenience store on the ground floor to grab a snack, eager to escape the impending festivities. As the elevator doors finally slide open, you step inside, your mind already elsewhere, contemplating the potentially underwhelming night ahead, especially given your lack of interest in the artist.

Absentmindedly humming to yourself, you press the button for the ground floor before casually leaning against the elevator wall. A brief moment of panic strikes as you pat your pockets, realizing your phone must have been left behind in the hotel room. Before you can fully process this inconvenience, the elevator lurches upward, and a figure clad entirely in black, sporting a ski mask, shades, and a hat, enters. You brush off the peculiar attire, attributing it to the chilly weather outside, but a faint sense of unease begins to gnaw at you as the elevator door closes.

The person does not press any buttons, signaling they were also going to the bottom floor like you were. You tried not to stare at the person beside you, but the clothes they were wearing screamed wealth. You look at their shoes as the elevator begins to go down. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop with a shake. You widen your eyes as anxiety kicks in, confused on what is going on. You look over at the stranger, not being able to see their expression before walking over and pressing the first-floor button again. This time, the elevator doesn't seem to budge nor is it telling you what floor you two are currently on.

“There's no way,” noticing the elevator may be stuck, your heart sinks down. The stranger walks closer to you, giving them a try themselves to press the buttons. You step back to give them room. Noticing the buttons will not budge for them either, you sigh and press the red button that signals a representative. A few minutes pass before someone speaks, “Hello? Is everything alright?,” the statically voice states.

“Yeah, ummm I think the elevator is stuck. We also can’t see what floor we are on,” you respond.

“Okay, please remain calm we are sen-,” the voice cuts off.

“Hello?,” you question, “HELLLOOOOOO?,” spamming the button again.

“Lady we can't hear YOUUU!,” You state pressing the button.

“You should stop before you break it.” The voice of the person speaks with a deep British accent, you now know they are a male. You turn to look at him, continuing to press the button a few more times before stopping. You sigh, sitting down on the floor.

“Just great,” you mumble while lowering your head in defeat. You are not someone with claustrophobia, plus the elevator was a decent size so it's not as if you were scared you were trapped. Only annoyed. While your head is low, you hear clothes shuffling causing you to look back up. The man begins to take off his coat and hat, probably also realizing we are not going to be getting out anytime soon. You shift your legs so you are now sitting criss-cross on the floor, your back against the wall as you look up at the elevator's ceiling.

“Don't worry, I bet they will come soon,” the man speaks once again with a reassuring voice. You keep your head up, “I know, it just sucks. This is my first time in the UK and I'm spending my first night trapped in an elevator with a stranger, no offense.” You hear a chuckle, ”None taken. What are you in the UK for if you don't mind me asking?” You can tell he just wanted small talk, and you didn't mind. I mean after all, you are stuck here for who knows how long.

“My Best friends and I are here for the Central Cee concert,” you respond, continuing to study the French painting that is plastered on the ceiling of the elevator.

“Are you excited to go?,” he questions, resulting in you shrugging,” I don't care too much about him. Nothing against him, but you know, not really my taste.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the intercom and the faint hum of the elevator's mechanisms.

"So, what brings you to the concert if you're not a fan?" he asks, curiosity evident in his voice.

You offer a half-smile, considering your response. "Honestly, I'm just here for my friends. Stacey and Rosalina are huge fans, and they practically begged me to come along. Figured it would be a fun night out, even if the music isn't really my thing."

He nods in understanding, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Ah, the sacrifices we make for friendship," he muses, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “Maybe after the concert you will be my fan.”

His unexpected comment catches you off guard, and you find yourself momentarily taken aback. With a furrowed brow, you glance down, your eyes widening and eyebrows raising in confusion. And there he stands, Central Cee himself, his presence suddenly filling the confined space of the elevator. His pearly white teeth glint in the dim light, a charming smile gracing his lips.

If your best friends were in your position, they probably would have passed out by now. But you? You simply let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Mmmmm I don't think so. Your music just isn't my type,” you reply, your tone casual yet resolute. You glance back up at the ceiling, your interest clearly elsewhere.

Central Cee seems momentarily taken aback by your nonchalant response. He had perhaps expected screams of excitement or frenzied fangirling – or perhaps even both. But your composed demeanor only serves to intrigue him further. He closes his lips, the smile still lingering on his face, his gaze lingering on you with newfound curiosity.

"Really now?" he questions, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly is your type, hmm?"

“Not you, so it doesn't matter,” you respond with a casual flick of your gaze, focusing on your nail as if it holds the answers to the universe. Impatience begins to creep into your movements, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the control panel, where you futilely press the buttons at random.

"Well, I would like to know," he persists, closing the distance between you with a deliberate step.

"It doesn't matter," you retort, your tone edged with determination.

"Yes, it does," he insists.

"No, it doesn't," you counter.

"Yes, it does."

"No, it do—" You cut yourself off mid-sentence, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. "Wait, why am I even going back and forth with you?" The question is more to yourself, but Central Cee decides to respond.

"Because you do like me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I—" You catch yourself falling into the same cycle, causing him to chuckle.

"You know, you're cute when you get mad," he remarks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His words elicit a soft blush from you, prompting you to turn away and face the wall. "Leave me alone," you mumble.

"Awww, I'm sorry, love. Let me make it up to you," he responds cheekily.

"Make it up to me by getting this damn elevator to work," you grumble under your breath.

"If you can admit that I am your favorite artist, then I will make that happen," he confesses, catching you off guard.

You raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. "How?"

He tilts his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Say it, and I will make it happen."

You exhale heavily, skepticism evident in your expression. "Why does it matter to you so much?" you question.

He shrugs, smiling. "Simply because."

You glare at him, his grin only widening in response. You decide to humor him, considering his celebrity status and the possibility of connections. "Fine. You are my favorite artist."

He raises his eyebrows, amused by your half-hearted admission. "I don't think that was sincere enough for me."

You let out another small breath. Stepping closer to him, you meet his gaze head-on. "Oakley, you are my favorite artist. I love your music so much; you are so talented."

His demeanor softens, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. Something about saying his real name seems to have an effect on him. Whether it's your beauty or simply the use of his name, it stirs something within him, making him feel... nice.

You find yourself studying his features, admiring the way his light tan skin complements the arch of his eyebrows and the depth of his chocolate eyes. His small smile draws your attention, and you instinctively take a step back, coughing lightly to dispel the tension.

"Uhm... okay, I said it. Now, do your magic."

"You're right," he responds, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

"YOU HAD A PHONE THIS ENTIRE TIME??" you exclaim, incredulous.

"Yes," he simply responds, unlocking his phone.

You sigh. "Why didn't you say something?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Who wouldn't want to be trapped in an elevator with a beautiful girl like you?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the fluttering sensation in your stomach leaves you speechless. Despite your indifference towards his music, you can't deny his charm.

For a few moments, you find yourself lost in thought, your gaze dropping to your shoes. His voice interrupts your reverie, causing you to lift your head.

"Damn. I don't have any service," he says, raising his arm in a futile attempt to get a signal.

You watch as Central Cee furrows his brow in frustration, tapping futilely at his phone screen in a desperate attempt to find a signal. Despite the annoyance of being stuck in an elevator, you can't help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him, a shared bond forged in the confines of this metal box.

As the seconds tick by, the silence between you grows heavier, the tension palpable in the air. You glance at Central Cee, taking in the way the dim light of the elevator accentuates the contours of his face, casting shadows that dance across his features. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can't deny the flutter of excitement that flits through your stomach at the sight of him.

"Anything yet?" you ask, breaking the silence with a voice that comes out softer than intended.

Central Cee shakes his head, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Nothing. It's like this elevator is in its own little world, cut off from the rest of the universe."

Central Cee chuckles softly, the sound echoing in the confined space. "and here I thought being a famous rapper would exempt me from getting stuck in elevators," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You smile, appreciating his attempt to inject a bit of humor into the situation. "Guess even celebrities aren't immune to elevator mishaps," you reply, your lips quivering in a half-smile.

He returns the smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "At least I'm stuck in here with someone interesting," he says, his tone laced with sincerity.

A blush rises to your cheeks at his compliment, and you quickly avert your gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Thanks," you mumble, "I guess you aren't so bad yourself.."

Central Cee's smile widens at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment," he says, his tone teasing yet genuine.

You chuckle softly, feeling a sense of ease settle over you as the tension between you dissipates. "Consider it one," you reply, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.

As the moments pass, you find yourself drawn into conversation with Central Cee, the topics ranging from trivial matters to deeper discussions about life, dreams, and everything in between. Despite the unusual circumstances that brought you together, you can't help but feel a sense of connection with him, a feeling of understanding that goes beyond mere words.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but is likely only a few hours, the elevator lurches back to life with a groan of protest, the sudden movement catching you off guard. Central Cee reaches out a hand to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.

"We're moving again," he says, a note of relief in his voice.

You nod, a sense of anticipation building within you as the elevator ascends towards the surface. “Finally,” you say, though a pang of reluctance tugs at your heart. Deep down, you wish the elevator would stay broken, prolonging the fleeting moments you've shared with him. In the brief interlude of confinement, you've come to appreciate not just Central Cee, but the person behind the persona, Oakley. As the elevator hums back to life, you resign yourself to the inevitable parting that awaits you both, returning to the separate paths your lives had veered from.

Central Cee begins to adjust his attire, meticulously covering his features with the ski mask and glasses, returning to his "disguise". “Don't worry," you assure him, offering a small smile, "I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. It'll be our little secret.” Before he can respond, the elevator doors glide open, ushering in a flood of light and fresh air. Eager to break free from the confines of the elevator, you step out quickly, wary of being trapped again.

“Hey,” Central Cee calls out to you, his voice laced with a hint of concern, “I’ll see you tomorrow,yeah?” A flicker of something indefinable passes between you, a silent understanding that transcends words. Though you yearn for a deeper connection, you suppress the urge, unsure of what you truly desire. With a small smile, you nod in acknowledgement, “Yeah.”

As you both walk away, your steps leading you in opposite directions, you can't help but feel a sense of resonance, a shared moment that binds you together in thought. Despite the divergence of your paths and the separation of your lives, in that fleeting instant, your minds are aligned, fixated on each other, entwined in a momentary bond that defies explanation.

#central cee #centralcee x female reader #central cee fanfic #centralcee imagines #central cee x y/n #central cee x reader #fanfic #imagines

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ceridescent · 1 year

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carribean summer heat — m., wanda

wanda maximoff x female!reader

summary: it's a lovely sight to see wanda maximoff sweating and blushing due to the tropical heat. sometimes it's tricky, because one moment she looks like a baby, and the next, well...you could ask the particular group of people who...but you suppose not. it's impossible they could have seen the hot flush on her cheeks as she handled you then and there, out in the open.

warning/s: top!wanda, bottom!f!reader, dom/sub dynamics, thigh riding, dirty talk, semi-public, mommy kink, use of strap-on, creampie, & teasing.

word count: 4, 300

author’s note: hiiiiii hiiii hiiii i'm so happy i finally have some content to post on my rotting account. ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ (i did have multiple drafts but i forgot tumblr existed 'cause i had off notifs the whole time since may.) it was a giddy, high school girl crush feeling of me to write this filthy fic. (/▽＼*)｡o○♡ i hope everyone's having a wonderful Hot Girl summer!! or a Hot Slutty summer, whichever you prefer. o(>ω<;)o

18+ only. men and minors do NOT interact.

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the sun rays barely strike your tanning skin, serving only as an illumination toward the breathtaking view of the caribbean sea as you situate on the patio.

three ivory-colored recliner beach chairs are included in the rental villa, wherein you occupy one whilst the woman who flew a helicopter in saint-barthélemy island, makes piña coladas in the kitchen. a few hours ago you woke up earlier than her, and it was a relieving feeling, of hearing the rise and fall of her breath. a pink blush coated her entire face, unused to the tropical weather. hair stuck on the oval of her face, grinning at how baby-ish she looked. you didn’t bother rousing her though, as you were both selfish for being the sole witness of the rising sun behind the full glass window of the villa, and considerate to allow her more time to rest.

not long after though, she woke up moaning your name, rubbing a whole limb on the empty space you left behind.

“you left me,” wanda whined, her eyes glazed and her red lips pouty.

“they gave us fresh coconuts,” you purred, showing her the fruit. helping her sit up on the white mattress, you plant a chaste kiss on her cheekbone. this feels like a true vacation, you thought to yourself, appreciating the beach elements surrounding the entire villa, and the hard-to-miss view of the sea outside. although, the other thing that left you breathless was wanda’s bare breasts, the only clothing clinging onto her body was the thong she changed into right after she showered last night.

you rested the open edge of the coconut in between her lips, “here,” tipping it upward so she could drink the coconut juice. wanda’s eyes fluttered close, a long and pronounced moan gracing your ears. she covered your hands with her own to hold the fruit, gulping the liquid into her parched mouth. she sighed as she finished, looking at you with a twinkle in her eyes.

she suggested, “we can eat the insides for breakfast, honey,” bending low toward the bedside to fetch her matching bra. you blushed at the recollection of last night. “i’m sure they have some honey in the kitchen somewhere…” you added, watching the tips of her peaks disappear into view.

wanda teased, “you like what you see?”, lightly slapping your face in the process in a playful manner. you tried to forget how her plump breasts felt in your hands as you suckled her dry, returning into the present moment of the beautiful day.

“i would like to eat,” you diverted the topic back into the fruit in your hands, which wasn’t successful as wanda raised an amused brow, pursing her lips together to fight back a smile. you pointed to the coconut to counter her silent reproach, giving her a light blush. “get your head outta gutter, ma’am,” you said and retreated to the kitchen before she could come up with a witty remark, which you’d most likely shut her up with a kiss.

wanda hums the tune from maroon 5’s sunday morning as she exits the indoor, clutching a wooden tray filled with food and replenishments. a board of charcuterie sits in the middle of the two piña coladas. you gasp at the precise detailing, “i’m not done,” blinking your eyes in anticipation, revealing a coconut with a straw strapped to the side. wanda caresses your hair, gives you a kiss on the forehead as you look up at her adoringly. “help yourself, angel,” she said before pecking your cheek. you mewl and melt at her service, appreciating the beautiful woman even more.

the drinks are astounding, satisfying your thirst for something cool in this caribbean summer heat, as well as your insufferable stomach—literal paradise—blinding your attention away from the oval-rimmed eyeglasses, but most especially, her gorgeousness in a bikini. “is that-“

wanda maximoff grins like a cheshire cat, “yes, angel, it’s the one you picked for me!” sometimes wanda does it, she sends you a fitting room pic of her in bikinis—and if you were blessed enough—lingeries—needing a different perspective of what looks flattering on her.

this particular bikini that clings onto her glistening skin is a green tie-front bandeau matched with a thin-string bikini bottom that leaves little to no imagination; highlighting the fullness of her hips down her voluminous thigh. her exposed tight stomach that has a small bruise on the side of her belly button, the heavy cups of her chest. you love how wanda never fails to wear something as if she was born with it and that it never leaves her skin.

you don’t realize until later that your mouth hangs open watching wanda cozy herself onto the beach chair next to you, laying it all out for the sea to see.

“oh,” you choke on your own spit, sight glued onto her cleavage. and if temptation could get any worse, sweat trickles down on the valley of it, getting envious (and more) of how close it is to where you want to be. stammering “you look-l-look-so look so marvelous, w-wan,” you gulp down your insistent saliva and grab the cool piña colada, biting hard on the straw as you sip in the flavor to replace the volcano on your tongue, before saying another that would jeopardize this peaceful, sunny day. (although it isn’t bad if it heads toward that direction.)

“you’re sucking so hard on it, princess,” wanda chuckles, “is it that tasty?” facing you now, leaning her weight against her right arm. her cleavage sag toward gravity, you fear it might actually fall off. short-circuiting for a moment, registering her question, her intention, and her innuendo. trying to calculate and rethink your response as you now, gently, sip the straw, sensing the coolness of your throat and skin, staring at the vast sea.

you turn your gaze on her nose, so wanda would think that you are brave enough to have a staredown with her striking olive green eyes. then you take another hard sip, hollowing your cheeks in the process, at the same time moaning loudly, rolling your eyes back. “oh yes,” you sigh, “it tastes so good, wan! would you like some?”

she grins like a proud mother, “yeah,” reaching for the other glass but you swat her hand away. “nuh-uh,” you spurn, shaking your index finger whilst you stand up from the chair. you take three slow, deliberate steps sipping on the cocktail, not breaking eye contact with her. wanda watches every move in a relaxed position, however, her eyes carry primacy and eagerness—she’s like a hawk with it.

you bat your eyes at her as you lower yourself down, dipping one knee on the beach chair in the open space of her glistening legs, at the same time resting the piña colada on the wooden tray. wanda scoots facing you, realizing what is up your sleeve. a shiver runs down your spine when she holds your love handles, positioning you in place. you swear to not have done anything but sit, like a moan, when she plops you down against her lap, her grip on your knees reluctant as if she’s trying not to clench on you too hard.

wanda’s specs tumble out of place for a second ‘cause you clip the loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear, taking your time. she whines, “i’m getting so thirsty!” jerking your body up and down, making your legs quiver, the friction of your cores heating your bundle of nerves.

sticking an index finger against her complaining lips only to pinch her jawbone to force an opening, without saying a word, you connect your mouth with hers, slowly pushing out the piña colada into her “parched” throat.

wanda flutters her eyes close and hums at the sensation, gulping it down, caressing your back in the process. sluggish and soft, fingertips against your shoulder blades. upward your hair, combing through them. and finally, your neck, massaging your nape in circular motions.

when you pull away you return a soft smile, giddy and grateful, reaching for the glass to give her some more. wanda’s wandering hands begin to become playful, toying with your bikini strap, stretching the fabric just to let it strike your skin. you hiss, slapping her hands away, yet she reprimands you with a smack on the ass. you sigh in relief for not having anything in your mouth.

more perspiration covers her milk skin, moaning at the liquid tantalizing her throat, and you who cannot help but bounce against her, the heat crawling through your body caused by not only the tropical heat of the island.

“princess, wanda whines, pushing your hips hard to stop you from bouncing like a bitch in heat, “what is it?” acting as if she doesn’t know what you’re asking for. “do you want to ride my thigh?”

or maybe she does.

nodding eagerly, you slide your hands over wanda’s arms to intertwine fingers, descending to land on her thigh. “don’t let me go,”

wanda shakes her head, relaxed, rubbing her thumb over, “how am i going to play with your nipples then, honey?”

that particular sentence made you grind hard on her, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. it’s all up to you though, so you begin to feel her voluptuous thigh at home between your legs, at home to be used by your needy pussy. “let me play with them, yeah?”

you allow wanda to let go of your hands, although it doesn’t stay dangling and out of place. she puts them around her waist, “there. so you have something to hold on to,” gathering your hair around her grip. “get on it, little girl. give me a great view.”

you do as told.

somehow, you always need wanda’s approval and permission before doing something that includes her, because it’s different with her. you utterly have faith that she would keep you safe, because most exciting things are dangerous. you become your truest, unapologetic self with her, dependent and clueless. wanda adores it, serving you, treating you like a princess.

hoarsely, “there we go, nice and slow for now, huh?” wanda stares at your whole frame, your legs automatically spreading wider, draping over the chair. she bites her lip, dragging her fingers over your thighs, as you increase your pace. you squeal, pressing your clad pussy against her thigh, “that’s what i’m talking about, baby. make yourself feel good for me,” whilst wanda encourages you with hunger.

you whimper, watching her watch you. blood rushes into your cheeks, bowing down to relieve the tension of being under wanda’s gaze, still unused to the pierce of her green eyes. you only look back when she begins fiddling with your top straps, teasing you with her next move.

you believe you know what’s about to happen and yet she lets them go, cupping your tits with her hands, kneading them into her calloused palms. you topple over at the pleasure, and she holds you up with your breasts, almost crushing them. the action causes you to let out a high-pitched whimper, casually rubbing yourself to take off the insufferable itch in your clit.

“oh god,” you sob when wanda pries the cups open without taking the top off, only setting them aside, as if she’s washing off sand from a seashell with her slender hands. “oh, oh!” feverishly you buck your hips, and “wanda!” a scream follows as she steps on her heel, her thigh going on a slope.

“that’s my pretty girl,” wanda husks, “keep moaning for me,” encouraging you. a simultaneous long moan erupts from both of you as she pinches your peaks, rolling them in between her fingers. a hungry grunt vibrates through her before diving into your tit, sucking it full with her mouth. your hand goes straight through her blonde hair, gripping it through the scalp, and then her shoulder where you find better leverage.

“that’s it-“ wanda huffs, “g-good, good, my good girl,” lost in the pleasure of sucking your chest. “yeah baby come for me-“

wanda guides your hips, setting a quick, solid rhythm. she pulses her heel up and down, and then it hits you,

“come for me, pretty girl. come for mommy-“

screaming and thrashing on top of her.

you crash against her chest, quivering all over, moan after moan tumbling out of your mouth, your hips still moving but at their own accord, with wanda’s hands resting on your buttcheeks. wanda hums when you quiet down, the vibration reaching your nipples, grazing you with a scream, cum dripping out of you. “dirty,” you mewl, referring to your soaked and sticky bikini bottom

wanda groans, “all mine,” palming your pussy through it, shoving her lips onto yours. you happily obliged, probing your tongue in her mouth, which she gladly accepted. massaging them together, suckling, and then nipping her lower lip, brushing your noses together.

“mhm!” you squeal as you pull away, giving wanda a radiant smile. she pinches your cheeks and pecks your nose. “okay then!” she claps her hands together, an eager woman with a plan. she kisses the side of your neck just below your ear. she pulls you away from her, settling you down in between her legs.

she gets up, get cozy, princess, mommy’s just gonna take something inside, okay?”

“mommy,” you whine, “can i come with?”

“no no, princess. it’s a surprise for you, okay? i’ll be back before you know it!” and then she’s gone.

you probably should have added “please” then she would’ve surely brought you in with her. but you do entertain yourself with the little time alone: rearranging glasses back in place, disregarding your wet bottom because wanda would take it off as usual, and finish the cocktail. you also spooned a bit of the coconut’s inside.

a loud chatter pulls you away from your little bubble, a group of people jet skiing echoing through the space. multiple arms wave in your direction, a booming “HELLO” as you wave back, blush coating your cheeks. you push your legs tight together. realizing the openness of the patio, you make a double take behind the place wanda has disappeared off, knowing that there’s more to come out of after your stunt, and most especially that you have brought her dominant side out here.

you drink wanda’s piña colada to pacify your nerves.

wanda isn’t scary, per se, she just gets super duper mega hot and towering—sometimes to the point of la petite mort—but this time the possibility of somebody else kayaking their way into your location makes you palpitate.

kayaking, the deliberate effort of rowing through this calm ocean—the agonizing trail of the canoes—it is something worse than a damn jet ski. this is driving you crazy!

“i’m sorry for the long wait, my darling. mommy couldn’t find it for a while ‘cause she’s thinking about you…”

you take a huge gulp, refusing to look at what's behind you. a hand ghosts on top of the beach chair. “it’s okay, wanda, i like the view here…”

“i know, princess. but it’ll look nicer if you see what mommy packed for you!”

this is her cue to come forward, blocking the peaceful view of the sea, showing her thick strap. you roll your eyes back, trembling all over, making her chuckle at the expected reaction, taking your hand to stroke her cock.

“i love the sound of your whimpers, baby. shows how much effect i have on you,” wanda husks, her desire of giving it to you palpable, because she dirty talks her way into your pussy as she does so. you gasp, “it’s big,” gripping the tip, feeling the faux veins coating the shaft. “you can take it, princess. i know it.”

“i don’t think so…” you dissent, shaking your head, at the same time anticipating it. but surely you can’t take it in you, it’ll hurt so bad. wanda shakes her head and palms your drenched clothed pussy before setting it aside.

she puts a finger in without warning, making you arch your back, a cry “mommy!” leaving your shocked mouth.

“now you’re calling me mommy,” she gives you a disapproving look, but urges you on smiling at the motion of you sucking her middle finger in fully without resistance. “i knew you’d be so wet, so i didn’t bring any lube.”

wanda takes her finger out and puts it in her mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of your cum. “mmm, i might just have to eat you out instead. would you want that, my princess?”

you nod your head rather aggressively, your face contorted in desperation. anything not to take her monster dick. however, wanda must’ve noticed your not-so-subtle calculation because she changes her mind, shaking her head, trying to hide her cheshire smirk.

“no,” she hum, “i think my tongue can wait for this sweet pussy. ‘cause then what’s gonna keep my baby girl’s boobs occupied?”

a squeal leaves your mouth as wanda drags your legs to the edge until it’s draping off the chair. you stick your legs together in the wind, your cum glistening on your pussy. wanda traces the slick that coats your inner thigh, just to get a rise out of you. she bites her lip in anticipation as she lubes her cock with your pussy juice, rubbing the tip over your clit.

“fuck,” she moans, “listen to it,” slapping it the toy against your pussy. “mommy,” you could only respond, already over the whole teasing fit. “please!”

“please what, princess?”

“plea-pl-“

she chuckles. wanda groans as she lines her cock in your opening, “use your words, darling. makes it easier for us,” waiting for you to vocalize.

you fling your hand forward to intertwine them with hers. “please fuck me, mommy. pleaseplease fill meplease!”

wanda whimpers.

“that’s my good girl.”

she enters you slowly, encouraging you to take deep breaths as she spreads your hole, tearing you open to get used to the size. your brows knit together at the sharp pain, mewling at the sensation. wanda peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw, distracting you from the initial process, “hey, hey, baby. it’s okay, mommy’s here–mommy will take care of you.”

your “thank you” gets swallowed by her lips, capturing yours in a languid tango, firm and warm in the tropical heat. your eyes flutter close alike battling sleep as, fighting the urge to just stay open because if you stare long enough at wanda’s eyelashes, you would be able to count them, but you settle with feeling it caressing your cheekbone. she breathes you in with each inhale, her hands coming to your cheeks to get a hold of you even more. you let out a keen for the numerous times she bites your lip, sliding her tongue in when you moan at the first thrust.

you break the kiss, “mommy,” giving her a pleading look. “please.”

she presents you a peck and nods her head, “oh yes,” beginning a pace. “is that okay, princess? does it hurt?”

“little only now, mommy. i like it,” you reply, taking her tongue in yours again.

“yeah?” she pulls away from the kiss, “you like mommy grinding down on you?” pushing in her length harder, her pace controlled. you hear the beach chair thud against the movement. your tits bounce at the same time, whimpering, tugging her hand, “faster please-“

“no, no. mommy’s gonna take her time, my love. i need to feel every inch of you before we get back. fuck! i’ve never fucked you in a bikini! it’s been in my bucket list for months now and i could finally-!”

wanda finds her pace, a grunt leaving her, pumping deeper into you, “-do this!” a cry leaving your swelling lips as your back arches in the process, her cock stuffing you full. “thank you, feels so good,” you slur, eyes rolling back, seeing the blue of cloudy skies. you think you begin to drool.

wanda makes an incoherent statement, her lower lip bitten to hold back her moans. a bucket of sweat forms on her forehead, little bubbles that slide down through her forehead and blushing face. her hair tangles in knots like a wet mop, clinging against her back.

her hands slither through your body, tracing patterns on your stomach, playing with your belly button. “you’re welcome,” she sighs, “anything for my favorite lady,” whispering over your ear, her hot puffs making your spine quiver. she nibbles your earlobe.

and your neck, sinking her teeth into flesh, planting a bruise, gripping your waist tight to pull you forward to meet her pounding. “ah fuck, wanda!” you yelp, as she stretches your pussy hole open and full. bucking her hips with no abandon, chasing that high that belongs in between your legs, her primal urge to please you—to hear you scream her name in your favorite vacation spot—to make you come apart only for her to build you back up.

“oh baby, uh,” wanda keens, clipping her hair out of the way of seeing you fucked out, “play with your tits, y/n. come on, please! show me your pretty bits,”

a high-pitched moan sounds out of you from wanda’s desperation, mimicking her movement a sex ago, setting your cups to the side. your fingers shake as you pinch and roll your nipples, your moans getting higher and prolonged the more you tug at them. your whole body spasms, thrashing under wanda who makes it her life’s mission to make you come around her cock.

you hear her chuckle close to your ear, licking a column of your neck, peppering kisses down onto your chest, replacing your fingers with her lips and tongue.

“so hard, so ha-“

“harder!” you sob, jackhammering your hips to meet hers, every snap ending with the sound of your juices thwacking around wanda’s big dick.

“hey, hey, princess look,” wanda slaps your face lightly to catch your attention, at the brink of tapping out, your brain unable to cope up with the situation anymore. you push your hoods open—screaming at the shock—the sight of wanda’s bare breasts bouncing up and down, looking so supple and fresh.

“mommy,” you whine, “i wanna suck you,”

how you managed to let that out you don’t know.

wanda whimpers, “oh baby,” purring as she downs her pace, “here princess,” taking one tit and holding in front of your mouth, “suck mommy good yeah?”

you only nod your head, speaking less to more. your mouth envelops in the hard peaks of the older woman, flicking it with your tongue before you actually suck it. wanda lets out a shaky breath, “y-yeah princess. be a good girl for mommy-“ driving her cock in your wet cunt in one swift thrust, frantic to hear you once more.

“y/n!” wanda writhes, the only leverage she has over you is her hands clenching your sides, “fuck fuckfuck me- mommy’s so close princess-!” screaming along with you.

“mommy, mommy,” you slur, attempting to wrap your legs around her waist but it’s too imposible with the energy you have. although wanda takes notice, helping you, wrapping one leg around her, whilst the other takes your hand the way you intended to in the first place. “yes, princess. mommy’s clo–come with me, please? come with me m’kay?”

repetitive words tumble out of wanda’s lips with the way her mind untangles as well, lost in the pleasure of having you fucked brainless. her tit falls off your mouth when you fling your head back, nearing into your climax. one more thrust—

a familiar loud chatter enters your hearing, pointing toward your direction, wanda noticing the same thing as she pauses for a beat, and before shame could creep into your head, she jolts her hips recklessly, fucking you with a few visitors.

“fuck yeah? we got an audience, baby. better give them our best sho-“

wanda chokes out a sob the same time as you, convulsing and trembling together at the climax. multiple expletives grunts out of her filthy mouth, complementing your sputtering.

wanda screams the same time as you do, crashing together. multiple expletives come out of her filthy mouth, complementing your whiny sounds.

“m-mommy!” you whine, drool dripping out of your mouth, “please–“ wanda grinning down at you, the loud chatter that once was powerful now weak and non-existent. “yes princess?” she purrs, washing the orgasm out of you. “i think you made them shut up, baby,” she chuckles breathlessly, her face red and wet. “but…we’re not done yet.”

you whine, exhaustion already painted all over you. “nope,” wanda pops the p and fixes your disheveled hair. you look so fucked out, not even a workout excuse is going to hide that.

“i just…” wanda takes her time to come up with something, a sugarcoated truth, maybe? or a white lie?

“…i wanna put all my cum inside you,” she lets out quietly, batting her eyes at you.

you cry with your legs spread open and shaking, ropes of cum filling your pussy hole. wanda giggles and moves her cock in a sensual pace, making sure nothing goes to waste.

“i’m so full mommy!”

“so full of my cum! how does it feel being filled with cum, huh, princess?”

you can barely open your eyes at this point, but wanda insists, slapping your face lightly to catch your short attention span. “you like it?”

“yes, mommy. makes me wanna suck you,” you whimper as wanda moans. “i’ll fuck my cum in you some more and then i’ll get to fuck your face?”

“yes, you offer breathlessly, drifting off. she takes your chin so you could face her, “no, no,” giving you a demanding look, “yes what?”

she puts her thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck. “yes, mommy.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #marvel smut #wlw smut

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tremendum · 5 months

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Me and the Devil; i

(not my gif) .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·: Paul Atreides x fem!reader prelude next

word count: 5.3k

summary: Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common. Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

warnings: blood/violence, family deaath, v brief allusions to smut/dubcon, reader is traumatized. pls lmk if i missed anything. not edited.

notes: thanks for all the love so far!!! here's the first chapter of the story - if you want to stay updated, i post on AO3 first :) just a quick first chapter to lay the scene before we jump into the engaging parts of the story. feedback is very motivating and highly valued, thank u all <33

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Penitent Crimes of Retaliation

In accordance with the legal doctrine of the 'Reprisal Accord', as sanctioned by the High Court of the Landsraad, houses are granted the right to retaliate against proven offenses committed upon them. This action shall such be labelled as "Penitent Crimes of Retaliation". Under this mandate, should sufficient evidence be presented, the aggrieved house may initiate a retaliatory strike and engage in warfare against the offending party. While reparations for damages incurred during the conflict are mandated, perpetrators shall be exempt from criminal sentences, ensuring a balanced recourse within the framework of inter-house disputes."

- From the Reprisal Accord, Office of the Padishah Emperor. Imperium, 10041.

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There was once a time when green was your favorite color.

You'd enjoyed a childhood of it; Peridot, Jades, the velvet green of winter dresses, the tall, mighty green the sacred Pine. The woven banner of your house, waving in the snow-whipped wind; A snarling green wolf upon the grey armor your parents wore to train you.

When the men of one other Houses Major arrived to retrieve your older sister, she'd been shroud in that very same pine-colored satin, an elegant dress, as she waved good-bye to you for the last time. When the ice would melt off the lower glaciers for those three months every year, the lakes would thaw to a deep emerald green, and your brother, sisters and you would play in it; servants and soldiers alike yelling and pulling you out, shivering to your bones.

Even at your sister's funeral. The green of the casket, laid to rest in the ground of a foreign planet by a man who'd never truly loved her. The women of your House, wearing a veil of mourning in that sacred pine satin as you said good-bye to her. Killed by the birth of her first; a son. Your parents had been proud - You became the oldest of your siblings that day.

You can barely stand to look at green anymore. No, instead, you mostly see black.

Black, white, and red.

They'd sent you away to make for your house a Fortune; a son, they'd wished, for your sake - and, by whispers of your Lady Mother, a daughter - but this place... it crawls with shadows and monsters and deadly smiles; most in the form of your betrothed.

Your na-Baron.

If Feyd-Rautha ever had a semblance of hesitancy, it was when you first met four years ago. You were at the end of your seventeenth year; he, freshly eighteen. He had been as cordial as you'd ever seen him, escorting you with an arm held out, eyes malicious but mouth less than offensive. He'd even called you Lady Bourbon those first few months on Giedi Prime. And, in fact, you can consider yourself lucky; perhaps for your bloodline, or for you yourself, Feyd-Rautha took special care of you. Maybe he did care for you -in the ways that he could.

After that, he taught you all you needed to know about the rest of the world. In these final days together, he has admitted furiously that he waited too long to claim you as his wife - four years was much too long for you to wait, even if your purity was claimed by him long before then.

The accusations had come from his uncle, the Baron; House Bourbon was stealing their precious refinery codes, committing treason against the trading accords along their exportation route. Perhaps, he thought, you were the one to plot it against your beloved future family.

But Feyd-Rautha knew better - knew that you'd never dare betray him. He was the one to demand a public execution of your family - but also the one to redirect your sentencing to a mere prisoner. As if you weren't one already.

Don't look away. See what we do to scum, my pet?

After all the sparring, each time you drew that precious blood from him, and you still haven't been able to kill him. If you'd had a blade, you would have, right there in the stands.

You were, in some ways, relieved when their bodies had hit the sand fast; You'd never seen your brother's skin so reflective as you did this morning. The black sun couldn't hide the blood that had seeped from him, nor from your mother's throat. You'd swallowed thickly, wishing you could look away, gasp - cry; but you had to hide your pain. Your na-Baron would've loved it too much.

Why don't you leave me with them, then? You'd hissed through your teeth.

Though he was wild and psychotic, growling with hunger at the bloodsport in front of him, he heard you for what you'd said. Feyd's fingers pulled your hair hard; forcing your chin to stare up at him. A sickly glint in the black sun, his teeth shone with hunger.

You'd have me throw you to your Wolves, and lose my prize? He'd tutted, kissing your forehead with a sickening sweetness; enough so that the servants had turned away their spider-black gazes. They didn't care much for the acts of affection you'd occasionally show one another - in a world marred by ugliness, any glimpse of beauty becomes a hauntingly grotesque show of power.

He'd snarled, slapping your cheek hard enough for you to groan. His breath hit your face, you're mine to keep - there's plenty of life left for you to serve.

He'd held your eyes open as they'd slit your father's throat; then both of your sisters, and your brother's. Your mother had fought as much as she could in her drugged state - the Harkonnens are rutheless, and Feyd-Rautha had sat calmly behind you, your head in his hands, caressing your shaking cheek - but the neckline of her gown was too high, and too thickly inlaid with encrusted heirlooms.

Bless their voided souls.

The emeralds that tore from her gown as she'd spilled her blood to the sand sent a ripple of pain out of your throat. Feyd had buried his face in your neck, teeth sharp as he sucked a mark just behind your ear, watching as you clenched your palms so hard, your own ruby blood beaded out, blackened in the sun's light.

If anybody would have bothered to look before burning the bodies, you know they'd find all the family diamonds sewn into the fabric of their clothing - centuries of your House, melted away.

Feyd-Rautha had drank up your agony with his lips, smiling as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Now, alone and away from the thick industrial air, your chambers are cold and suffocating.

There are screams coming from the hall - not the kind that you've grown to associate with your na-Baron testing his new blades, but the kind that comes with danger. With change.

As it turns out, you are not Feyd-Rautha's to keep any longer.

A loud noise outside of your quarters jolts you from your bed, whispering to yourself. They're coming for you. Pulling the sheets closer to your body, your hand finds the blade gifted to you on your nameday three years ago by your husband-to-be, still tainted with the ghost of your own blood.

Your whispers reverberate in the empty room. "I must not fear. fear is the mind-killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me."

Your voice shakes. Few things remain from your early days of training, before you were sent off to become a Harkonnen; This is one is a relic.

There is a loud noise just outside; blades.

For a moment, you imagine there is a hand on your arm. It is strong, ghost-white, and possessive. His voice rumbles in your head. Don't look so sad, my pet. I will never let them keep what is mine. I will find you again.

You almost wish he will.

When you look down to the weight on your arm, you do not find the hand of your once-betrothed, but the remainder of his ownership, a handprint of a bruise that will not fade even as the soldiers in Atreides armor deliver you to the next planet.

You rise from your bed, preparing your sore body for a fight that will surely end before it even starts. You don't stop your old prayer, in fact, you hardly notice that you're saying it at all. Even as the doors give in.

"-and when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing - only I will remain-" There are soldiers that burst through.

The way one of them fights strikes a faint memory from a lost childhood, and it fills you with rage.

Why did you wait so long to rescue me?

You lunge, snarling like the wild beast you've become in your captivity. You will fight, because that is the only thing you know how to do. It is the only thing you have left.

Your blade falls within minutes.

You're taken by the man from your past not a minute after.

You're on a ship, watching the black Opiuchi B disappear, in an hour.

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"My Lady."

You don't realize the worker addresses you until you snap out of it, flushing behind your veil as you step out of the aircraft.

The dress you wear, salvaged from your family's old castle, is dusty.

It clings to your skin, drowns you, as the rain falls. A staff of House Atreides holds an umbrella above you, shielding your elaborate dress from the water as you walk up towards where the members of the House await you. You stare down at the dress - green velvet. A texture you have not felt in years; your skin looks different not wrapped completely in black.

Your eyes strain to take in the grand entrance to the castle from the hangar which Duncan Idaho had escorted you, ignoring him as he turns to glance back at you momentarily. You can't bear the look of unfamiliarity that flickers over him when he looks at you, now.

He looks the same - maybe less tall, but that has more to do with it having been six years since you last saw the man. You, however, are not the same girl you were when he knew you on Sabberon. Fear, panic, and wrath rage within you while your gaze smolders daggers at the back of his head.

He walks just slightly in front of you and despite yourself, you slide just a bit closer - the only semblance of comfort you can allow yourself to feel as you take in the largess of the castle. The air is thicker here than you've ever felt; salty, windy, like you can taste the sea in the rain... it clings to your skin, but it feels clean. You'd been changing into your robes when you entered atmo - you've heard many things about the ocean, about Caladan.

Something within you yearns to witness it yourself. Subtly, you crane your neck outwards to catch a glimpse; nothing in the near distance but the walls of the castle and high cliffs.

You nearly trip as Duncan Idaho stops just a few paces from where the members stand at attention to greet you and your retinue.

Duke Leto Atreides, regal and composed, stands at the center of the room, his presence commanding your attention. Beside him, a woman wearing a deep cerulean gown - Lady Jessica. Easily, from behind your own veil, her gaze penetrates you; A cool sensation down your spine as you seem to feel her words in the back of your head as she watches the Reverend Mother who'd travelled with you per High Court orders.

Hello, sister.

You purse your lips, looking on - there, next to his mother; Standing tall with an aura of quiet intensity, his eyes on you, is Paul Atreides.

The son to whom you're now destined.

Even from your obstructed vision, you can see that he's handsome - lithe, hair curled and combed back to show his eyes. They are wide, penetrating like his mother's, but Maker, they are so green.

There is no hunger in his eyes, nor hatred, nor anything but a mild curiosity; it strikes a chord of fear in your gut, wishing briefly to return to the na-Baron's sight. It was easy to go unseen with the Harkonnens; They always made their intentions clear, and the na-Baron never wanted many to see you besides himself. You always knew what he wanted, and you could give it to him enough to control him.

But Paul. His stare betrays no emotion but duty. If not for the boyish pout of his pink lips and his freshly-shaven jaw, you could have mistaken him for his father. A Duke.

Your name, boomed from the voice of Leto Atreides, pulls you back to the surface of Caladan. "Welcome." Duke Leto's voice resonates through the hall with authority as he addresses you, his tone measured yet warm. Your stomach twists and turns as the man nods courteously to you. Coaxing your body to move, you bow to him.

"We are honored by your presence." His voice is surprisingly humane, exceedingly polite towards you; someone who was just come from the protection (a laughable phrase) of their sworn enemy.

Your throat tightens at this. There is no honor to your presence, not anymore.

Though you feel the prickling behind your eyes, you force your head to tilt in acknowledgment, schooling your expression to respectful - perhaps they can't quite make out your face, but Lady Jessica watches closely. She sees.

You take a sharp breath, swallowing away the lump of emotion in your throat.

"Thank you, Duke Leto, my lord." Your voice carries steel beneath its polite, quiet veneer, though you try to calm your heart. You turn to Lady Jessica to greet her.

"My Lady, it is a pleasure." You say, equally even. Lady Jessica offers a tight smile, something akin to understanding swimming among her irises. It's been quite some time since you were permitted to talk to a woman; Your servants on Giedi Prime were, of course, tongue-less, as na-Baron wished. "Thank you for welcoming me to your home."

"We understand that these are trying times for you." She says softly, her words a gesture of solidarity as your legs stagger. You feel dizzy and tired, but you force yourself to nod, bowing again. Your chained headdress overlaying your veil chimes slightly with the movement, swaying with the rain.

For such an acclaimed House, you're surprised by the gentleness of their welcome. Perhaps, they'd thought that the groaning and echoing hallways of Giedi Prime might break you, that they'd be taking in some injured little dove, wings clipped by the ferocious boy who'd gifted her with a knife plunged between her ribs on her nameday.

The scar that lies just below your breast on your right side serves not as a reminder, but as fuel. It did not quell your spark. It ignited it, with a bloodthirsty rage for revenge.

Months of being thrown into a pit under the glaring black sun; Not the arena that assassinated your family, no - this pit was smaller, with one large seat for the na-Baron himself, and drugged concubines and servants with blades to service his na-Baroness. A place to watch his pets play.

Destruction: the only thing you and Feyd-Rautha may have ever had in common.

Unfortunately, you endured. You learned how to live with the Harkonnens, to be one of them- and with a clip of fear, you worry you may never be able to unlearn.

Lady Jessica is correct, these are trying times for you. You swallow as you straighten your back. Despite everything, there's a minor comfort in the Atreides' insistence of providing you with the necessities for you to perform your traditional customary mourning traditions. Your family may be gone, but you can still have this part of them; as a way of saying good-bye. It's what they would have wanted.

You turn to the young man who stands next to Lady Jessica.

The Harkonnens had tried to show you the dangers of house Atreides; The poison of appearance, of trust. You are not foolish enough to have believed the Baron Vladimir and his webs of deception, but you are sharp enough to know that in times like these, nobody can be trusted.

Your betrothed watches you, as if trying to see through your mourning veil. The green of his eyes sends a warmth through your stomach as you avert your eyes. "My Lord," you bow to him, your heart thumping in your chest, remembering how you might be rewarded for looking your formerly betrothed in the eyes during ceremony. Trying not to flinch, you wait to see what Paul's hands may do. But they do not strike you, nor grasp your jaw sharply. He barely moves.

"My Lady." His voice is softer than you expected, and it strikes your heart with a cool unease. Distrust slithers around you like a daunting snake. He bows back to you.

It's silent for a thick moment before Duncan Idaho - the man from a distant past - speaks from beside you. "We have much to discuss."

Cutting to the chase, as always. Your eyes fall to the Duke, who nods. "Do you need to see treatment?" He asks the Swordsman, eyes assessing the soldier.

Duncan laughs at this, gesturing to his arm, where beads of blood still slowly peeks through his the tunic he'd slipped on after changing out of his armor.

"Harkonnen blades are sharp. So are Lady Bourbon's nails."

The prickling of four pairs of eyes strike you as he continues, turning this time to address you full-on. "Your fighting is much different than I remember, Little Bourbon."

What he doesn't say is clear to you: Much more savage than he remembers. Something between shame and pride licks at your cheeks and you avert your eyes; It had been a force of habit - rabid hounds don't tuck tail when cornered, do they?

You clench your hand, your nails digging into your palms; you learned early on that sharper claws could keep Feyd tame for longer.

The force of Duncan's old nickname for you, when you'd been young - it nearly knocks the air out of your chest. It's been over half a decade since you'd seen the man; too much has happened since then. Nonetheless, you smile toothless behind the veil, trying not to think of the life you'd just left behind. Of what cold life lies ahead.

When you respond, your voice is frigid.

"Sometimes adaptation is survival, Duncan Idaho. Threats demand evolution."

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The rain is gone by the next day.

In the morning room, forks scrape over blue-plated China. There must be a clock somewhere near, as the seconds pass in quiet, insistent ticks. A cleared throat, a swallow of water.

Your eyes burn from exhaustion.

Your arrival last night held no such time for small talk - you were whisked away by the service staff to make sure your quarters were comfortable; Your old clothing and that of your sisters and mother - the few things the Atreides soldiers had salvaged from the ransacked Castle at Sabberon - had been washed thrice of rubble and smoke and were hanging, waiting for you, in the wardrobes.

Barely awake, late in the evening, you'd attended a meeting in a small conference hall. There, sat across from Lord Paul, Masters of War and Swords and Strategy, a Mentat, and the Lady Jessica, the Duke had asked you questions, ensuring you were not harmed - more importantly, trying to ensure there was no malicious intent to your presence. Your eyes could not ignore the Lady Jessica, who stood behind the Duke, her fingers twitching to the others when you responded to a question asked of you. They had some kind of language, you'd realized, as they responded in their own subtle hand gestures.

You'd only been there for ten minutes before you were escorted by a handmaid back to your chambers, where you sat without rest through the night.

Truthfully, you're breaking fast with Lady Jessica and Lord Paul out of courtesy; You were up far before the sun had found the horizon this morning, staring emotionless at the ghost who stood in the corner of your new chambers.

You'd sat watching, cradling your chest with wide eyes, as the ghost slid onto his knees. How he'd crawled, smirking at the foot of your mattress, whispering to you with sharp teeth and beckoning fingers. The sweet promise in his eyes laid with blood and pain, coaxing you forward despite yourself - until something in the corner of your vision moved, and you'd screamed.

That had woken one of the servants.

She came in with her head tilted down, holding a pitcher of water, and you'd asked her to stay.

Her name is Hestia; she must barely be twenty. You insisted on sharing a pot of tea with her, sitting in the silence but sipping shortly on your teacups. You didn't talk much, but instead breathed and felt the safety and of a woman's company, even if she is a few years younger than you.

It wasn't until she'd brought you breakfast a few minutes later that you realized the staff must have been informed of your courting customs before your arrival - she said nothing as you ate silently, staring out towards the coast of rocky cliffs and rolling moors you could just barely make out from your chamber windows.

And now you sit similarly - in the morning dining room, your hands perched in your lap, unsure what to do with yourself.

Your future husband, no older than yourself, sits across the table from you now, pushing his omelet around on his fork. The table shakes just slightly, jilting your glass full of water - he must have a restless knee. He chews at his lip, avoiding your stare, sharing slight conversation with his Lady mother. Her attempts to bring you into the conversation are met with polite answers and more silence, your voice shaky and cold.

After a while, a woman enters, whispers something to the Lady at the end of the table. Nodding, Lady Jessica takes her leave with a pointed look at Paul, suggesting he might escort you around the castle to settle you in.

Though your stomach coils, you nod, "-if you have time, my Lord, I'd appreciate it."

His eyes find yours from behind the veil and you clear your throat. He's quiet but chivalrous; A nod, a glance sent back to his mother as she leaves. A short gust of air through the room and suddenly you can smell him. His hair, clean and glossy - healthy - glints as he faces a window, exposing the early morning sun to his bright eyes.

It's silent for a few moments as only the two of you remain; Your food untouched and his half-eaten.

"Are you one of them?"

Them?

You stare at him from behind the thin pine veil that covers you. It occurs to you that Paul may assume you are just as bald and sick as each Harkonnen; years of adapting, surviving off of instinct and placation, are over. With a jolt, you realize you are not a Harkonnen. And you will not be wed to one.

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of chains upon the crown of your head today, ignoring the melancholy feeling in your gut.

"I have hair." You state simply, looking down at the skin of your arm; The skin that boasts arm hair, none of the sickly pale skin that knew of no clean air nor healthy sunlight - your skin, glowing with real melanin like the House of Bourbon.

You'd never spoken this freely on Giedi Prime besides in the sole company of Feyd-Rautha - stars, you'd never have spoken this freely at home on Sabberon, either - but there is no home anymore. And if you've learned one thing in your years since coming of age, its that the Great and Noble Houses of the Landsraad are crawling with perjurers, fabricators.

Paul is likely the same.

If the Atreides boy must be wed to you, you cannot help that, just as you couldn't help with Feyd-Rautha. They can dress you, insist in your traditional customs - but you will not go down easy. No matter how cold the home, you can be colder. You are more than the bones which hold you up; Meaner than the demons that kept you in their ghostly-grip for four years.

His cheeks flush a peculiar pink, bottom lip captured between pearly teeth. "No," he starts again, eyes searching - trying to find you, beneath the layers of green that wrap around you. "Not Harkonnen-" he quiets after he says the name, as if worried to offend you. "I meant-" his eyes swim, "Bene Gesserit."

Your stomach chills as you meet his eyes.

After some hesitation, you shake your head. "No, my Lord."

When he blinks at your words, you feel compelled to continue. "I suppose I was..." you move your hand to pull on the sleeve of your robes.

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"or, I was supposed to be." your unemotional tone rings through the room. Paul doesn't say anything to that, biting back the suspicion that climbs up his throat.

He stands when you rise from your seat; Your mourning dress, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, flows like the leaves of a weeping willow as you push your chair in behind you. When he offers a stiff arm to escort you out of the room, you hesitate before looping yourself loosely to him.

She is telling the truth.

His mother had indicated, with flicks of her hand, during the meeting the evening before; you, sat before the Atreides' council, unaware that his mother was reading your honesty.

But that could be a trick; you've admitted to being partially trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, perhaps you found a way to deceive his mother. As much as he trusts Duncan and his father, he can't shake the suspicion that you're a mere pawn in the Harkonnens' game.

But his father's words burn sharply into his mind.

Duty often requires us to navigate paths we may not have chosen for ourselves, Paul. You may not always like her, but you will treat her with the respect and care befitting of a future spouse. Love may come in other ways - but you will marry her, and together you will sire an heir when the time comes.

By decree, it was ordered you be wed to Paul, but he can't find it within himself to lose the feeling of distrust. He has spent hours learning about the Harkonnens - how they think, their strategy; and yet, from Duncan's account, the Baron and his nephew just let you go. It makes no sense to him.

"I was supposed to be a lot of things."

Your voice is undeniably beautiful; strong, much more resolute than he'd expected. But you are extremely cold, and evidently unwilling. Polite, yes - it seems you've been trained just as he and every other young noble of the Great Houses have - but you are calculating, aggressive.

He saw the claw marks you'd left upon Duncan; a man you've known since you were a young girl.

You walk with your chest out, back straight like a soldier; your words are cordial yet laced with steel and indifference - it only serves to deepen his unease. He guides you through the castle, murmuring quietly as he shows you along, introducing you to various members of staff who stop and bow in recognition.

You don't say much until he escorts you to a path that winds down out of your sights; Below the castle, between jagged rocks, Paul finds himself concerned to no longer be surrounded by castle walls. Beside him, you take a deep breath, your footsteps faltering as you slow to stare at moss that sprawls across the cobblestone.

Curiously, Paul slows to a stop beside you.

For a moment, you stare down at the dirt and fallen tree limbs, the grassy fields and rocks. Soon, as though an invisible string pulls you upwards, you snap your head, voice sheepish behind your veil. "Apologies, my Lord." You start to turn away. "I've read of plants like this, but never seen them before in person."

Paul is suddenly struck by the realization that you may not have seen much of any flora nor fauna on Caladan. He knows what Giedi Prime is like; and your homeworld, from what he'd read last night before bed, was mostly full of Glaciers, forests, and high altitudes. Perhaps you are interested in such things; the idea surprises him.

So instead of moving along, he finds himself bending to pull off a bit of the moss from a fallen trunk. The earthy dirt spreads between his nimble fingers, the green bright against his skin. You watch him silently.

"It absorbs up to twenty times its dry weight in water." He says it quietly, repeating what he'd learned in an ecological lesson, pushing on the spongy material with his thumb. "Banks of it grow just around the brackish tidepools outside the castle."

Your interest, piqued, causes your head to crane slightly from your short height - he can tell, even without seeing any part of your face, that you are fascinated. "Am I allowed to see?" You ask stiffly, your arms by your sides.

An initial wave of protectiveness over his home washes over him; remembering his father's words, he forces his shoulders to relax. He lets the moss fall back to the stump, brows furrowing.

"You are to be Lady Atreides, one day." He tries to school his voice evenly, avoiding any hint of resistance to this fact. "You do not have to ask permission to see your own land."

The wind from the sea whips around you; his stray curls fly in his vision. There are no words from you for several very long breaths, in which you clear your throat.

"I do not feel well, my Lord." You say moments later, voice cordial but thick with the desire to be alone, "I believe I am sick from travel. Please, if you would excuse me."

He is unsure if he had made you uncomfortable or if you are truly feeling sick; nonetheless, Paul escorts you to your chambers silently, calling one of the handmaids - Hestia, her name is - to check on you. He insists she bring you some bread and cheese, to draw you a bath if you please.

His jaw clenches; he's to train with his mother soon, but he needs release. His muscles clench in repressed frustration and so Paul lets his feet carry him swiftly to the training quarters.

His fingers itch for a blade; his mind itches to forget about the last day, about the cold life that lies ahead of him.

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follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

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#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #paul atreides i need you so bad #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #me and the devil; series #feyd x you #feyd smut #dune fanfiction #dune smut

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redroomreflections · 3 months

Text

Not Easily Broken Chapter Eight

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

8/10

w/c:6.4k

Note: I hope y'all like this

It’s funny how you can be in the middle of something, and a completely random memory will strike. You’re at a red stop light, bobbing your head along to the low sounds of music, as you look into your rearview. Ryan is doing pretty much the same thing as he taps his fingers along the car door. He looks so much like Natasha when he smiles. She may not have carried him, but their similarities always amaze you. You think back to the time he was a tiny toddler, tapping his fingers along the car door much like he does now.

A small smile tugs at your lips as the memory warms your heart. Those early days were a whirlwind of sleepless nights and endless diaper changes, but they were also filled with moments like this—simple, yet profoundly beautiful. Ryan, with his curly hair and bright eyes, had always been a curious child, absorbing everything around him with an intensity that mirrored Natasha’s.

The light turns green, and you gently press the accelerator, your mind still lingering on the past. The familiar route to Emma’s dance school is lined with trees, their leaves swaying in the breeze. Ryan’s soft voice from the backseat pulls you back to the present. He’s telling you about his day at school yesterday, excitedly recounting a game he played with his friends. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself genuinely engaged in his story.

“And I think another tooth is going to fall out if he’s not careful,” Ryan continues as he describes his time with Miles on the playground yesterday.

“Oh yeah,” You say, reaching over to turn the radio down. “How’d he lose the other one?”

Ryan grins, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “He was trying to show off on the monkey bars and slipped. It was pretty funny, but he’s okay.”

You whistle, shaking your head. “Boys will be boys, I guess. Just make sure you’re being careful too, okay?”

“I will, Mommy,” Ryan replies, giving you a reassuring smile.

"We still have a bit before Emma’s class is over," You say, checking the clock on the dashboard. There’s quite a bit of time left. "We could go to the bakery and grab some sweets. What do you say?"

"I like that idea," Ryan nods. "You always have good ideas."

"I don’t know about always," You shrug, "but I’m glad you think so highly of me." You quickly find a parking spot close to the shopping area. Emma’s dance school is only a few blocks away, just in case things let out early.

As you step out of the car, the warm aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries wafts through the air, making your mouth water. The bakery’s quaint storefront, with its colorful awning and display of delicious treats, invites you in. You help Ryan out of the car and he rushes to the door.

"Let’s see what they have today," Ryan says, opening the door for you.

“I’m raising such a gentleman,” You chuckle as he struggles to continue holding it open for you.

Inside, the bakery is filled with customers, but it’s a cozy kind of busy. The display cases are filled with an assortment of cookies, cakes, and pastries. A friendly cashier greets you with a smile.

"What looks good to you?" You ask Ryan, scanning the options.

"I’m thinking maybe a couple of those chocolate croissants," he says, pointing to the flaky, golden pastries.

"Good choice," You agree. "And I think I’ll get a lemon tart. Emma loves those, so we can surprise her with one. What do you think Mama would like?”

“Dark chocolate truffles,” Ryan insists, tapping at the display case.

“Got it,” You nod. You place your order and wait while the cashier carefully boxes up your treats. As you leave the bakery, you notice a small park nearby with benches and flowering trees.

"Want to sit for a bit and enjoy these?" He suggests and he seems to be hopeful that you’ll say yes. You see his attempt at spending more time together for what it is. You won’t deny it.

"Sure, sounds perfect," You reply.

You find a shady spot under a tree and sit down, savoring the moment. Ryan sits next to you, practically curling into your body as you eat the treats. It had been a long time since you’d spent this much one-on-one time with him, and the realization tugged at your heart. Ryan’s small hand rested on your lap, his love for you evident in his need for physical touch. You figured now was as good a time as any to talk.

“How have you been feeling, Ry,” You dust your hands-free of crumbs. “About me and Mama getting back together?”

Ryan looks down at his lap, fidgeting with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Hey, baby, you can tell me anything,” You assure him. You take his hand in yours. “Even if you think it will make me sad or upset. You never have to hide your feelings from me.”

“I’m nervous,” He admits quietly, avoiding your gaze. “I want us all to be happy, but I just don’t want you to change your mind and break Mama’s heart again.”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reassure him. “I understand, buddy. It’s a big change, and it’s okay to feel nervous. I promise you, I’m doing everything I can to make sure things work out this time.”

He looks up at you, his eyes wide and searching for reassurance. “But what if it doesn’t? What if something happens again?”

You gently squeeze his hand. “We’re all working hard to make things better. Your Mama and I are talking more, listening to each other, and trying to fix the things that went wrong before. It’s not going to be perfect overnight, but we’re committed to making it work.”

Ryan nods slowly, his grip on your hand tightening. “Okay. I just want us to be a family.”

“And we are a family, Ry, no matter what,” You say, pulling him into a comforting hug. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Ryan rests his head against your shoulder, his worries eased for the moment.

“Can we talk more about why you’ve been so angry?” You ask, wanting to continue the conversation and give him the space he needs to express himself. “I know we’ve talked before about you hitting Mama. From my understanding that hasn’t happened again right?”

“No, I promise,” Ryan shifts slightly, still leaning against you but with a furrowed brow. “I guess I just feel scared,” he says after a moment. “When you and Mama were fighting a lot, it was really hard. And when you left, it felt like everything was falling apart. Like my heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces every day. I was sad and I didn’t know what to do.”

You nod, listening intently. “That must have been tough for you, Ry. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I left you in the dark about a lot. I shouldn’t have been that way with you and your sister.”

“It’s just… I thought maybe things would never get better,” he continues, his voice small. “And I was so mad because I didn’t understand why you and Mama had to get a divorce. I didn’t know if you were coming back, or if Mama was okay. It was like I couldn’t do anything to help.”

Your heart aches to hear his pain. “I can see why you’d feel that way. It’s okay to be angry and scared, especially when things feel out of control. But I want you to know that none of what happened was your fault, and you don’t have to fix it all by yourself.”

Ryan looks up at you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and lingering worry. “I just want to believe that it’s going to be okay. That you and Mama won’t hurt each other anymore.”

You wrap your arm around him, holding him close. “We’re doing our best to make sure that doesn’t happen again. We’ve learned from our mistakes, and we’re working on being better for each other and for you and Emma. It’s going to take time, but we’re committed to making it work.”

Ryan takes a deep breath, seeming to absorb your words. “Okay,” he says softly. “I believe you. I just needed to hear it.”

“I’m glad we talked about this,” You say, kissing the top of his head. “You can always tell me how you’re feeling, no matter what. We’re in this together.”

Ryan nods, a small smile forming on his lips. “Thanks, I love you.”

“I love you too, Ry,” You reply, feeling a sense of calm wash over you both. “Now, how about we finish these treats and then head to pick up Emma?”

Ryan nods enthusiastically, the heaviness of the conversation lifting as he reaches for another chocolate croissant.

**************

Seeing the smile on Emma’s face when she spots you standing near the entrance of her dance class is priceless. She looks so sophisticated and grown up as she prances over to you in her tutu. You catch her in your arms, offering her a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Mommy, are we going home?” Emma asks, and you nod.

“Of course, baby. I’m going to spend some time with you, Ryan, and Mama before we go back to my apartment tonight,” You inform her.

“Does it have to be just you and Mama?” Emma pouts as you carry her over to her dance bag. You set her gently on her feet, gathering her stuff, as she doesn’t offer to help.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain. “Emma, Mama and I are trying to fix things between us. We love you and Ryan so much, and we want to make sure we’re doing the best we can for our family. Sometimes that means we need to talk and spend time together, just the two of us, to figure things out.”

Emma’s pout deepens, and she looks down at her feet. “But I don’t want you to go back to your apartment. I want us all to be together and have a sleepover.”

Your heart aches at her words, understanding her desire for you to be home. “I know, sweetie,” you say softly, kneeling to her level. “I want that too, more than anything. But for now, Mama and I have to take things slowly to make sure we’re doing everything right.”

Emma’s eyes fill with unshed tears as she looks up at you. “But why can’t we just be together?”

You gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. “It’s because Mama and I need to talk and work on some things. We love you and Ryan so much, and we want to make sure we’re the best parents we can be. Sometimes that means spending some time apart to figure things out.”

Emma sniffles, her lip trembling. “I just miss you, Mommy.”

You pull her into a comforting hug. “I miss you too, baby. And I promise, we’re doing everything we can to be together as a family again. How about this: we’ll have a special sleepover at Mama’s house this weekend, all of us together. Would you like that?”

Emma pulls back slightly, her eyes brightening a bit. “Really? A special sleepover?”

“Really,” You affirm, smiling. “We can watch movies, eat popcorn, and even have a bonfire or something. What do you think?”

She nods eagerly, a small smile breaking through. “Okay, that sounds fun.”

“Great,” You say, standing up and taking her hand. You stand to see another parent eyeing you from a few feet away. You connect eyes with her and offer her an awkward smile.

“Hi, you’re Emma’s other mom, right?” She asks.

“Yes, that’s right,” You respond, trying to maintain a friendly demeanor. “I’m Emma’s Mommy. Nice to meet you.”

The woman smiles, her curiosity evident. “I’ve seen Emma with her other mom a few times. I’m Claire, by the way. My daughter, Lily, is in the same class.”

“Nice to meet you, Claire,” You say, shaking her hand. “I think I’ve heard Emma talk about Lily a few times. They seem to be great friends.”

Claire nods, glancing at Emma, who’s now talking with Lily nearby. “They are. It’s nice to see them so happy. It’s great to see you around here.”

“Thank you, it’s great to be back,” You say before bidding her a good day. You know she had more questions than other parents usually did, and you didn’t mind answering just not right now. With the divorce, you had unfortunately distanced yourself from the children's activities. You hadn’t been present in their everyday lives, and the impact was evident. You almost wonder why Natasha didn’t push for full custody—she likely would have had a strong case.

Natasha, understandably, took on more responsibilities and became the primary caregiver during that time. She was actively involved in their school events, extracurricular activities, and day-to-day upbringing.

Reflecting on it now, you realize that your absence might have painted a picture of disengagement. It wasn’t intentional neglect; rather, the overwhelming emotions and challenges of the divorce had pulled your focus away from what mattered most—being there for Emma and Ryan.

“Alright kiddos, let’s go,” You lead them out of the studio with much to think about.

*********************

“Mama, we got you dark chocolate truffles!” Emma exclaimed, offering the box to the redhead as she stepped through the front door of the house. Natasha gently put down her laundry bag, ready to catch Emma, who seemed very fond of running into her parents' arms.

“Did you now?” Natasha responded with a smile, scooping Emma up into a warm hug. “Thank you, sweetie.”

“Yeah, she ate a few on the way here,” You mutter with a headshake, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Natasha laughs softly, glancing at you. “Well, I can’t blame her. These are my favorite. How did you know?” she asked Emma, giving her another squeeze.

“Mommy said they were,” Emma replied, beaming with pride.

Natasha’s gaze softened as she looked at you. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “It means a lot.”

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease. “We thought it would be a nice surprise. Plus, it was all really Ryan’s idea.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. “Oh, was it now? Ryan’s got good taste.”

“Yeah, he’s quite the planner,” You say with a chuckle, glancing over at Ryan, who is now watching Emma with a pleased expression.

Ryan, overhearing the conversation, walks over and stands next to you, looking a bit bashful but proud. “I just wanted to make Mama happy,” he says softly.

Natasha kneels down to Ryan’s level, pulling him into a gentle hug. “You always make me happy, Ry. Thank you for thinking of me.”

Ryan beams, his earlier nervousness fading away. “You’re welcome, Mama. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Natasha replies, kissing him on the forehead before standing back up. “I have lunch ready for us today. I always know Printsessa is extremely hungry after dance.”

“I am,” Emma says, rubbing her tummy. “But first, can I show Mommy my room?”

“I’ve seen your room before, Emma,” You join in the conversation with a raised eyebrow. “Is there something new in there?”

Emma nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Yes! Mama and I decorated it differently, and I got some new stuffies. Come see!”

You glance at Natasha, who nods encouragingly. “Go ahead. I’ll finish setting up lunch.”

“I can help you,” Ryan volunteers.

“Alright, lead the way,” You say to Emma, who grabs your hand and starts pulling you toward her room.

As you walk up the stairs to her bedroom, Emma chatters excitedly about the changes. “We got new fairy lights and a big rainbow pillow! And Mama put up a shelf for all my books.”

Entering Emma’s room, you immediately notice the transformation. The fairy lights cast a soft glow, and a colorful rainbow pillow sits proudly on her bed. The new shelf is neatly organized with her favorite books and toys.

“What do you think, Mommy?” Emma asks, looking up at you with anticipation.

“It’s beautiful, Emma,” You say, genuinely impressed. “You and Mama did a great job. It looks so cozy and fun.”

Emma beams with pride. “Thanks! I love it so much. And look, here are my new stuffies!” She runs over to her bed, picking up a few plush animals to show you. “This is Eloise, and Gertrude, and Penelope.”

“Whoa, where did you get these names?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in amusement. They truly sound like elderly-sounding names. Not that you would tell her that.

Emma giggles, holding up Eloise, a fluffy bunny. “Mama helped me pick them. We wanted names that sounded fancy.”

“They’re fancy,” You say with a smile, taking one of the stuffed animals from her. “And they’re all very cute.”

Emma nods enthusiastically. “I like to pretend they’re having tea parties and going on adventures together. They’re my best friends.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. Maybe we can have a tea party with them sometime.”

“Yes, please!” Emma says, clapping her hands together. “You can be the guest of honor, Mommy.”

“It’s a date,” You agree, hugging her. “But for now, we should head to the kitchen before lunch gets cold.”

“Okay!” Emma replies, bounding toward the door with one of her new stuffies in hand.

You follow her back to the kitchen, feeling a warm glow from the simple yet meaningful moments you’re sharing. Natasha has set the table with grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. One of Emma’s favorites.

“This looks good, babe,” You compliment without really thinking. You take a seat closer to her chair.

Natasha's eyes flicker with a hint of surprise, followed by a soft smile. “Thanks,” she says, a touch of warmth in her voice. “I’m glad you’re here to enjoy it with us.”

Emma, oblivious to the brief exchange, eagerly reaches for a sandwich. “Mama makes the best lunches!” she declares proudly.

Ryan nods in agreement, already munching on a piece of fruit. “Yeah, this is great, Mama.”

You settle into your seat, feeling a mix of nostalgia and hope. “It really does look amazing. Thanks for making lunch, Natasha.”

Natasha smiles, her eyes meeting yours. “You’re welcome. It’s nice to have everyone together.”

As you start eating, the conversation flows easily. Emma and Ryan share stories from their day, and you and Natasha listen attentively, adding your comments and questions.

“So, Emma showed me her room,” You say, glancing at Natasha. “You both did a fantastic job decorating it.”

Natasha’s face lights up with pride. “Thanks. We had a lot of fun doing it together, didn’t we, Emma?”

Emma nods vigorously. “Yeah! And Mommy said we can have a tea party with my stuffies sometime.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Natasha agrees, giving Emma a fond look. “We should plan it soon.”

After lunch, as you help clear the table, Natasha catches your eye. “Thanks for the compliment earlier,” she says quietly, a genuine smile on her face.

“Of course,” you reply, returning the smile. “I meant it. It’s really good to be here with you all.”

Natasha nods, and for a moment, there’s an understanding between you—a shared acknowledgment of the effort you’re both putting in to rebuild your family.

“I was thinking we could head over to your apartment at five?” Natasha mentions. “I have a babysitter coming over. Yelena is still kind of on the fritz so I didn’t dare ask her.”

“Sounds good,” you nod in agreement. “Is she still ignoring your calls? I didn’t know us getting back together would cause so much grief with your sister.”

Natasha sighs, a hint of frustration crossing her face. “Yeah, she’s still not picking up. Yelena’s protective. She saw what the divorce did to all of us, especially the kids, and she’s worried about me getting hurt again.”

You nod thoughtfully. “I get that. I didn’t realize she was taking it so hard. I thought she’d be happy we’re trying to work things out.”

“She’s just cautious,” Natasha explains. “She wants to make sure we’re not rushing into anything and that the kids don’t get caught in the middle again.”

“I understand,” You say, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’ll reach out to her too. Maybe if she hears from both of us, it’ll help.”

Natasha gives you a small smile. “That might be a good idea. She just needs some time.”

As the conversation shifts, you both start preparing for the evening. Natasha ensures the house is ready for the babysitter, while you spend time with Emma and Ryan, making sure they feel comfortable with the plans for the night.

At five, the babysitter arrives—a friendly woman named Sarah, who immediately puts the kids at ease with her warm smile and easygoing demeanor. She doesn’t need an introduction to the kids' routines as Natasha’s used her services before.

“We’ll be back soon,” Natasha tells the kids, giving each of them a hug. “Be good for Sarah, okay?”

“We will,” Emma and Ryan promise in unison.

As you and Natasha step out of the house and head to your car, you can’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The evening ahead holds the promise of important conversations and the possibility of taking more steps toward healing and rebuilding your relationship.

*****************

The drive to your apartment is filled with a comfortable silence, both of you lost in thought. Once you arrive, you take a deep breath and turn to Natasha. “Ready?”

She nods, giving you a reassuring smile. “Ready. What are you so nervous about?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly prepare for you to come,” You shrug. “I mean, it’s not like it’s dirty or anything. It’s just really bare bones and bachelor-y.”

Natasha chuckles softly. “I’m sure it’s fine. You always were a minimalist.”

You lead her inside, feeling a bit self-conscious about the simplicity of your apartment compared to the cozy warmth of your old home. This place has never felt like you belonged in it. It feels too much like how you’ve felt inside. Lonely. As you step into the living room, Natasha glances around with interest. It is an open living area with polished hardwood floors and large windows offering city views and tons of natural light. There’s a plush sectional sofa and a sleek coffee table in the center of the room.

The dining area nearby features a stylish table set under a minimalist chandelier, adding a touch of elegance. The kitchen, equipped with high-end appliances and marble countertops, exudes functionality but lacks personal touches.

The bedrooms are spacious and well-furnished, with the master bedroom featuring a king-sized bed and simple, crisp sheets. The overall vibe is one of luxury and comfort, although the space feels more curated than lived-in, with minimal personal decor.

“It’s nice,” she comments, walking over to look out the window living room window. “Very you.”

You chuckle nervously, hoping she doesn’t find the lack of decorations or homey touches too off-putting. “I know it’s not as homey as your place.”

Natasha turns to face you, her expression gentle. “It doesn’t have to be. This is your space.”

You relax a little, grateful for her understanding. “Thanks. Let me just get us something to drink.”

While you busy yourself in the kitchen, Natasha wanders around the living room, examining a few books on the shelf and the simple decor. When you return with drinks, she’s sitting comfortably on the couch, looking at a framed photo of you and the kids.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” she says softly, setting down her glass.

“Me too,” you admit, sitting beside her. “I’ve missed having you here.”

Natasha meets your gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. “I’ve missed being here.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. Despite the nerves and the uncertainties, being together like this feels right. It’s a small step, but an important one, towards reconnecting and rebuilding what was lost.

“What’s this?” Natasha spots the photograph on the table tucked under a bunch of notebooks and your laptop. It’s an intimate photo of the two of you on your honeymoon. You’re holding Natasha in your arms, her back turned away from the camera, kissing your cheek. Both of you look incredibly happy.

“I’ve been looking for this photo. You’ve had it all this time,” Natasha says, her voice filled with surprise and a hint of nostalgia.

You smile softly, picking up the photo and holding it between your fingers. “Yeah, I kept a lot of our photos.”

Natasha studies the image, a mixture of emotions crossing her face. “I remember this day,” she says quietly. “We were so young.”

“Seems like a lifetime ago,” You reply, memories flooding back as you gaze at the picture together.

Natasha nods, setting the photo down gently. “Thank you for keeping these.”

“They’re memories I couldn’t bear to part with,” You admit, your voice softening with emotion. “Even during the tough times, they reminded me of the good.”

Natasha reaches out, placing her hand over yours. “I’m glad you kept them,” she says sincerely.

“Come here,” You say softly, pulling her closer to you on the couch. The evening had started feeling more like a cordial business meeting than a date with your ex-wife.

Natasha moves closer, resting her head against your shoulder. The feel of the room shifts as you both sit quietly, the weight of unspoken words and shared memories hanging in the air. Despite the initial nerves and uncertainty, being close like this feels natural, comforting even.

“You know,” Natasha starts, her voice gentle, “I’ve missed this.”

“Me too,” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed us.”

Natasha nods, her fingers intertwining with yours. “So, what do you do in here all day? Read books? I can guarantee you haven’t opened any of those on that shelf.”

“I have read some,” you cringe, feeling a pang of guilt.

You hesitate, not wanting to admit that you've mostly been occupied with work and the gym. The truth is, you often didn't spend much time in this apartment to avoid feeling lonely.

Natasha squeezes your hand gently, sensing your discomfort. “It’s okay, you know,” she says softly. “You were doing what you needed to do.”

You sigh, grateful for her understanding. “I just didn’t want to be alone here.”

“I understand,” Natasha replies, her voice warm with empathy. “But you’re not alone anymore.”

“You know, I keep telling myself that I…” you begin, your voice trailing off. “I kind of isolated myself from everything and everyone. No one told me divorce would be so hard. I mean, I knew, but…”

Natasha listens, her eyes soft with understanding. “But living through it is something else entirely,” she finishes for you.

“Exactly,” You sigh, feeling the weight of the past few months settle heavily. “I threw myself into work and the gym, anything to keep from being alone in this place. It was too quiet, too empty.”

Natasha squeezes your hand gently. “I get it. It’s hard to face that kind of loneliness.”

“I didn’t want to admit it,” You continue. “But being without you and the kids… it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Natasha nods, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and regret. “I felt it too. It’s why I pushed so hard for us to try again. I believe we can do this.”

“I believe it too,” you say softly, kissing her head. “What do you say we try out this cooking thing? I had all of the groceries delivered this morning. You had a pretty extensive list.”

Natasha laughs lightly, the sound bringing warmth to the room. “I do tend to go all out with my lists. What’s on the menu?”

You stand up, offering her a hand. “Let’s find out. I didn’t peek too much, so it’ll be a surprise for both of us.”

Natasha takes your hand, and you both head to the kitchen. You open the fridge to take out all of the ingredients you have.

“Okay,” she says, rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

You start unpacking the bags together, revealing fresh vegetables, herbs, various spices, and a selection of meats. It’s a well-thought-out collection.

“Looks like we’re making a feast,” you comment, holding up a bunch of fresh basil. “What should we start with?”

Natasha glances over the ingredients, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “How about a nice stroganoff dish? We can make a salad to go with it.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree, feeling a sense of anticipation. Cooking together feels like a new step in rekindling your relationship, it’s one of the things you used to delight in doing together.

As you chop vegetables and prepare the meal, the kitchen fills with the delicious smell of fresh ingredients and simmering sauce. The act of cooking together, sharing tasks, and the laughter, brings a sense of normalcy and joy.

It feels intimate and cozy as you navigate the kitchen together. Natasha’s subtle touches against your skin make you feel even more worthy of her being here. Each brush of her hand, every shared glance, adds to the warmth of the evening.

“Hand me the mushrooms?” Natasha asks, her fingers lightly grazing yours as she takes the bowl.

“Sure thing,” You reply, enjoying the simple task of cooking side by side. The smell of the beef stroganoff simmering on the stove and the roasted beets wafting from the oven fills the room.

As you roll out the pie crust for an apple pie, Natasha leans over your shoulder, her breath warm against your ear. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“Thanks,” You say, smiling. “It’s nice to have someone to cook for.”

When everything is ready, you set the table together, this is the first time in weeks you’ve actually sat at this dining table.

“This is amazing,” Natasha says, savoring a forkful of the beef. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Only because I had the best partner,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you.

“We do make a great team,” Natasha agrees, sipping from her wine glass. The comfortable silence that follows is filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the faint noises of the city outside.

You take a moment to appreciate the moment before deciding to dive deeper into conversation. “So, what have you been up to at work lately?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Natasha sets her glass down, her expression is thoughtful. “Work’s been busy, as always. We’ve had a few high-profile cases come in. It’s been challenging, but I enjoy it. Keeps me on my toes.”

“That sounds intense,” You say, nodding. “But you’ve always thrived in that environment. I’m on sabbatical, as you know, so it’s a bit different for me.”

“How are you handling that?” Natasha asks.

“It’s been an adjustment,” You admit. “I’m not used to having so much free time. I’ve been trying to stay busy, hitting the gym a lot. Visiting my parents. Tony’s been surprisingly understanding about it, though. He knows I needed the break.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Natasha takes another bite of her meal. Her smile fades slightly as she looks down at her plate. She hesitates before speaking again. “Can I ask you something that’s been on my mind?”

“Of course,” You say, your heart rate quickening slightly at her serious tone.

“Have you… seen anyone else during our time apart?” She asks, her voice soft but steady.

You take a deep breath, appreciating her honesty. “No, I haven’t,” you say, meeting her gaze. “I couldn’t even think about it. I’ve been too focused on everything else, and honestly, I wasn’t ready.”

Natasha looks relieved, her shoulders relaxing. “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been worried about it.”

“I understand,” You say, squeezing her hand gently. “It’s natural to wonder. What about you?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I couldn’t either. I just… needed time to process everything.”

You both fall silent for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling in. But there’s a sense of relief too, knowing that despite the time apart, neither of you sought comfort elsewhere.

“Thank you for being honest,” you say, breaking the silence. “It means a lot to me.”

“Thank you too,” Natasha replies, her eyes softening. “I’m really glad we’re talking about this.”

“I know we’ve talked a little bit here and there but,” You wipe your mouth with a napkin. “I never stopped loving you. I just..I was confused. We were hurting each other. I needed it to stop. It had gone on for so long and-

Natasha reaches out, her hand covering yours. “I understand,” she says softly. “It was hard for both of us. We were caught in a cycle of pain and neither of us knew how to break free.”

You nod, feeling a lump in your throat. “Exactly. I thought maybe some distance would help, give us both a chance to breathe and figure things out. But it didn’t change how I felt about you. It never could.”

Natasha’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “I never stopped loving you either. Even when things were at their worst, a part of me always held on to the hope that we could find our way back to each other.”

You squeeze her hand, drawing strength from her words. “I’m glad we’re trying again. I want to make things right, to be better for you, for our family.”

She nods, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “We’ll take it one day at a time. We’ve both changed, and that’s okay. We just need to be patient with each other and ourselves.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “Agreed. And for what it’s worth, I think we’re off to a good start.”

Natasha smiles a genuine, warm smile that reaches her eyes. “I think so too.”

As you clear the dishes together, the comfortable silence between you feels reassuring. There’s no rush, no pressure, just the quiet understanding that you’re both committed to making this work. It’s a start, and for now, that’s enough.

“I don’t want you to go home just yet…” you mention as you both sit against the couch, much in the same position as earlier.

Natasha looks at you, her expression softening. “I don’t want to go home yet either,” she admits. “It feels good to be here with you.”

"Stay a little longer.”

Natasha smiles, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I’d like that.”

The only thing is, with you and Natasha, things never remain simple or quiet for that matter. You turn your head slightly, meeting her eyes, and in that moment, the unspoken words between you become clear.

Before you can overthink it, you lean in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Natasha responds immediately, her hand moving to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. It’s a kiss filled with longing, love, and a promise of a renewed connection.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless. Natasha rests her forehead against yours, her eyes closed. “I want you,” she whispers.

“I want you too,” You reply, your voice equally soft. Your lips meet in another kiss that has Natasha moaning into your mouth. The heat between you is tangible as if it could be felt despite the slight chill in the room. Natasha’s hands trail down your body, tracing the skin under your shirt, as you nibble her bottom lip. You lean back against the pillows of the couch.

Your fingers brush against the soft skin of her neck, causing her to shiver with pleasure. She makes a move to lift your shirt over your head and you waste no time throwing it on the opposite side of the room. She uses her nimble fingers to release your breasts from their confines revealing your bare chest. You look into her darkened eyes, finding lust and desire coursing through them.

You lift your head further, your hands finding her waist, as she leans into your touch. You kiss her again, her lips parting slightly as your tongue slips into her mouth. Your bodies fit together perfectly as if they were made for each other.

“Bedroom?” Natasha suggests as your kisses lead further down her neck. You offer a gentle bite against her clavicle, delighting in the hiss you receive from her. “Y/n?” She presses gently against your shoulder when she doesn’t receive an answer.

“Yes, right,” You place one last kiss against her neck before she stands.

Natasha takes your hand, leading you towards the bedroom. The room is dimly lit, with just enough light from outside to create a warm, intimate atmosphere. Your bed is scattered with pillows and blankets, inviting you both to fall into it and lose yourselves in each other's arms.

As you step inside the room, Natasha turns to face you. Her green eyes are shining with excitement, and she bites her lower lip lightly.

“Where do you want me?” She asks.

“On the bed,” You gesture.

“Here?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She sits patiently, her legs slightly spread, as you unbutton and push your jeans down your body. You step between her legs, your hips swinging provocatively as you come closer.

Natasha reaches up, her fingers brushing against your cheek as she leans in to kiss you. The kiss is slow and sensual, igniting a fire in your core. As she deepens the kiss, her hands wander down your body.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” You murmur. “Wanted you.”

“You have me,” Natasha responds. You gently press against her chest, pushing her down against the bed. She rests against her elbows, watching as you unbutton her pants, and slide them down her legs. The smell of her arousal hits you and you close your eyes as you rest your nose against her pelvis.

“You smell so good, baby,” You land several kisses against her mound before kissing a trail up to her lips.

“I want you to fuck me,” Natasha says bluntly. “We can do slow and gentle later. Right now I need you to fuck me.” She practically begs as her chest heaves.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you #redroomreflections #natsxaddiction #natasha romanoff smut

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ddarker-dreams · 11 months

Text

a little fluff blurb for bladie from my google docs !! reader here is fem.

Blade almost took it personally when you failed to notice him.

His presence in your room certainly stands out. Everything about him contradicts the soft pastel colors, abundant flora, and cute finishing touches. Nothing in the universe aside from your kitchenette registers. You hum along with the song playing in your ears, waiting for your tea’s timer to go off.

He walked in when the countdown read five minutes. Presently, it’s at two.

You’re wearing dangerously short pajama shorts and an old t-shirt, the band’s logo faded out from years in the wash. He’d considered making himself known, but watching you frolic about proved too tempting. You have your back turned toward him, entirely oblivious, stuck in a little world of your own making.

Creepy as it may be, Blade considers it soothing to stare at you. Therapeutic, even. A way to unwind from the blood-filled jobs that beckon his mara out to play.

A wicked idea forms in his head. Going without you for so much as a day is enough to seriously dampen his mood. Normally, it’s his enemies that reap the consequences. He’ll miss their vitals just enough that they’re left to go into shock and bleed out, rather than a swift, merciful death. What can he say? It’s their fault for existing and cutting into his time with you. That’s on them.

He stalks over, movements akin to a mountain lion that’s located its unsuspecting prey.

You’re lifting the teabag out a few moments early. He’s close enough to double as your shadow, the corners of his lips twitching upward from anticipation.

The second your timer goes off, he strikes, large hands settling on either side of your hips. This unexpected contact earns immediate retaliation. You actually squeak, much to his surprise (and amusement). Your response doesn’t end there. From instinct, you twist your torso around, ready to ward off the threat.

Maybe it’s because you have an object in your hand, or maybe it’s because your subconscious knows you’re in no real danger, but you don’t materialize your weapon.

Instead, you try thwacking him with your dripping teabag.

He easily catches your wrist, thwarting your assault. It takes you all of a millisecond to understand the situation. You use your free hand to slowly remove your in-ears. He can’t help it — your pinched-together eyebrows and scrunched-up nose makes him chuckle. This worsens his crimes from your perspective, which you make evident by a non-threatening glare.

“Nice weapon,” he drawls.

“Hey, that’s— that’s unfair,” you complain. “I wasn’t expecting an ambush.”

Blade raises an eyebrow. “Is it an ambush if you expect it?”

“Yes? No. Maybe. Quit looking at me like that, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Mhm.”

He plucks the teabag from your grasp and throws it away. Meanwhile, you remain frozen in time, only moving enough to cross your arms over your chest. The wrath you try directing his way is largely ineffective. Your miffed countenance is akin to a bunny scowling.

“I was looking forward to your return, but I’ve since changed my mind.”

“Mm.”

He hoists you up onto the kitchenette’s countertop. The way the soft flesh of your thighs expands against the marble tempts him, but he knows he won’t be getting anything until your faux frustration is appeased. It won’t take much — or long. He just gazes into your pretty eyes, his bandaged hand cupping your face, the pad of his thumb massaging your cheekbone. You melt for him almost immediately.

“Everything alright?” You ask, your arms finding their place around his neck.

To Blade, everything’s more than ‘alright,’ because you’re here. Treating him with care he doesn’t deserve, and love he deserves even less. He used to worry he’d taint you, like clear waters turning opaque from filth. However, it’s as Kafka once said, likely pitying his lovelorn self.

“Shouldn’t you let her decide that for herself?”

For reasons genuinely beyond his comprehension, you decided he was worth the trouble.

His gloved hand settles on your thigh. The irony of how he caresses you with the same hand responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths isn't lost on him. Since regaining a semblance of consciousness, that's all he thought he was good for. Bloodshed and slaughter.

He observes how you shudder through lidded eyes.

You don't look at him as if he's a monster. You should, he often thinks, because he is. There's no sugarcoating the truth. He's become everything he once swore to eradicate. Mad, vengeful, immortal. A product of the Abundance's perversion of the lines separating life and death.

And yet, all those centuries, all that suffering led him to you.

You aren't the light at the end of the tunnel — you're light in its entirety.

Blade is greedy when he slots his lips against yours. He's greedy when he pulls you closer, his bandaged hand tilting your head up, allowing him to devour you with ease. Your scent, your taste, your little laugh at how unabashedly eager he is, everything blurs together and threatens to leave him breathless.

How can he pull away when your legs wrap around his waist? When you thread your hands through his hair, reciprocating his ardor like he's worth even an ounce of your affection? He isn't, he's nothing compared to you, a ghost of a man who can't cross over into the afterlife.

Sometimes, he no longer wants to. Not if you're on this side of eternity.

"Well?" You pull back a few inches from him to ask. As pretty as your smile is, he likes your lips best when they're against his. "You gonna answer my question?"

He furrows his eyebrows together and tries kissing you again. Talking about emotions in any context isn't his forte, you both know that. He's always preferred to express himself through actions than words. However, when you deny him the pleasure of your lips a second time, impatience coils inside his chest.

He huffs.

"The best," he deadpans. You roll your eyes yet laugh anyway.

"You almost pout more than I do," you tease. For this infraction, he gives your thigh a pinch, enjoying the feeling of your soft flesh a little too much. "I just worry, y'know? You become such a sourpuss when we're apart for any length of time."

You aren't wrong, but he'll keep that to himself.

“Okay, okay, stop glaring. C’mere.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. He takes you up on your offer the second you’ve finished making it.

Blade might not know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but that doesn’t mean he can show you.

#blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade brainrot #my stuff

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nattikay · 3 months

Text

wooooo they have proper refsheets

massive lore dump under the cut

Might as well start with Neynari. Probably the most striking thing about her visually is that she has a condition called leucism, which causes an underproduction of pigment. In Neynari's case, her leucism is a random mutation that resulted in the malfunction of her pigment-producing cells, rather than a genetic trait inherited from her family. Needless to say the clan was quite surprised when she was born hrh

Speaking of which, Neynari was born in the Aranahe clan to a couple by the names of Seylana and Vontxu. She was an only child and has an especially close relationship with her mother. Her father, Vontxu, was very quiet and reserved; he rarely spoke and was difficult to get to know. Seylana found his soft demeanor charming, but while Neynari loves her father and knows he loves her too, his personality made it harder for her to bond with him, so she was never quite as close to him as she was to her mother.

Her pale skin makes her a poor hunter--prey can see her coming from a mile away--but she more than makes up for her lack of hunting ability with excellent craftsmanship. Growing up in the Aranahe clan she is of course well versed in weaving and dyeing, but her true passion is beading. She absolutely loves making beads of all varieties and incorporating them into her weaving projects. Vontxu is actually the one who first taught her how to make them, and it was one of the few activities she felt she and her father could bond over. She used to sit for hours in the weaver's den with him, not speaking, just carving beads to their hearts' content.

One day a group of Aranahe artisans, Neynari among them, set off on a trading route to visit the Anurai clan. Neynari knew the Anurai clan also had a reputation as skilled artisans and was keen to compare their crafts. It was on this trip that she met Se'txelu...

(rewinds tape recorder) alright let's talk about Se'txelu now hrh. I mentioned how Neynari has a condition called leucism. Well, Se'txelu has the opposite: melanism (or I guess for a Na'vi it would be called cyanism). So while Neynari's body underproduces pigment, Se'txelu's overproduces it. Unlike Neynari whose condition was a random mutation, Se'txelu's is one that I headcanon as a rare but established recessive trait among his clan, the Anurai (actually google tells me that irl melanism is dominant but shhhhhh this is imaginary alien version I can do what I want with it lol). This Pandoran version of the condition, in my headcanon, requires just the right combo of genes to show up in the phenotype, so while several of the Anurai are carriers of the gene(s), it's very rare to have more than two or three indivduals who actually display it living in the clan at the same time, and sometimes there are none at all. At the time of this "story" there are only two: Se'txelu himself, and the current tsahìk, Awlun (who happens to be his great-aunt.) Before them, the most recent person to have it was Se'txelu's great-grandfather.

The Anurai don't use human terms like melanism or cyanism of course; they refer to this condition as txonleng (shortened from txonä ta'leng, meaning "skin of night"), and because the dark color resembles the hide of the mighty palulukan which the Anurai canonically revere, it is generally believed that individuals born with txonleng are blessed by Eywa and destined to be legendary hunters, especially nocturnal hunters...which there may be a sliver of truth to, since they are naturally better at blending into the shadows.

In Se'txelu's case, though....well, he is good at camouflage, but alas, he's also kinda clumsy, which kinda cancels out any stealth bonus granted by his condition 😅 Despite his clumsiness, he is still a decent hunter at least, albeit a long ways off from "legendary" status (uh oh, potential source of angst for this usually happy-go-lucky dork).

When the Aranahe artisans visited his clan to trade, Neynari immediately caught Se'txelu's attention. He'd never seen anyone who looked like her before, and on top of that, she was quite beautiful. He was infatuated immediately. Lucky for him, she took notice of him too (they both kinda stand out in a crowd lol). Now, while Se'txelu had never seen anyone with leucism like Neynari, he had met two other people with his own condition, txonleng—his great-grandfather (although his memories of him are hazy since he was quite young when he died (of old age)), and Awlun (who of course is still alive and kicking)—so though his condition was rare he had never really felt alone because of it. Neynari, on the other hand, had never seen another Na'vi who wasn't standard blue, so meeting someone else who stood out like that was shocking and intriguing.

The Aranahe trading party stayed with the Anurai for about a week. Se'txelu tried to work up the nerve to actually talk to Neynari. One day, she noticed him up in a tree and waved at him. Remember when I said Se'txelu was clumsy? Well, he tried to wave back...but in doing so let go of the branch he was gripping and fell out of the tree. Onto his face. And lost a tooth in the process.

Neynari felt awful because she felt like the accident was her fault, and she came to check on Se'txelu once his bloody mouth had been cleaned up. But despite the initial awkward guilt, with that incident the ice, much like Se'txelu's face, was broken lol. They ended up talking for a long time after that, and clicked pretty hard. Neynari even gave him the joking nickname Sre'tìkelu ("tooth-lack") in reference to the now permanent gap in his smile. They continued to bond over the next few days, and when it came time for the Aranahe party to return home, Neynari found herself not wanting to join them...

Neynari's closest friend back home had always been her mother, Seylana. But tragically, Seylana had passed away of sickness about two years prior to Neynari's trip to the Anurai. With the loss of her mother back home, but the promise of a potential future with Se'txelu here, Neynari was wondering if she should stay and ask to join the Anurai clan...but would that be fair to her ancestors, and to the clan who had raised and loved her?

The night before the Aranahe were meant to leave, Neynari asked Se'txelu to take her to the nearest spirit tree. She connected to Eywa and spoke with Seylana's spirit, pouring her heart out to the memory of her mother and explaining her dilemma. Seylana comforted her daughter and encouraged her to stay with the Anurai. She wanted her daughter to have a bright and happy future and if she found that in another clan, so be it.

Now with her mother's blessing, Neynari spoke with Awlun, the Anurai tsahìk, as well as with the leader of the Aranahe trading party, and explained the whole situation. She was allowed to join the Anurai, and she and Se'txelu began courting officially, and became mates not long after.

But wait! All these words and we haven't even mentioned Rolukx yet! Rolukx is Se'txelu's older brother, by roughly five or six years. When the boys were young, their father, Tanu, was involved in a hunting accident and almost died. He survived and is fine now, save a few scars, but there was a period of time where his condition was critical and his survival unclear. Se'txelu doesn't really remember this incident because he was too young, but Rolukx does, and it really affected him. Up until that point, he, like many young children, thought of his dad as invincible...this brush with death shattered that innocent belief for poor Rolukx; he became a lot more nervous and paranoid about safety and, well, mortality. One way he dealt with this trauma was becoming very protective of his little brother, even after they became adults (and to be fair, his worries over Se'txelu's safety aren't entirely unfounded because, again, clumsy dork lol).

Though he spends a lot of his time keeping an eye on his brother, Rolukx is actually a musician and instrument maker by trade, and he's very good at it. The knife he carries is not (usually) used for hunting or cooking, but rather for whittling bone (and other materials, but Anurai clan so mostly bone lol) into intricate flutes and whistles. He plays them beautifully as well, but unfortunately suffers from stage fright and dislikes playing in front of others. The only person he'll consistently play for is his mother Lunaya, who was always very encouraging of his talents (he's a bit of a mama's boy).

Rolukx was a little wary of Neynari at first, as he felt like Se'txelu was rushing into this relationship with some random girl from another clan way too fast. But Se'txelu seemed happy, and when Neynari showed genuine interest in Rolukx's whittling skills, offering to teach him some Aranahe beading and weaving tips in exchange for some whittling and music ones, he warmed up to her and they wound up being pretty good friends, so Rolukx approves of his brother's relationship.

Lunaya, the boys' mother, happens to also love beaded accessories and hit it off with Neynari right away. Neynari appreciates having her around because she reminds her of her own mother, even if Lunaya is much more extroverted and eccentric than Seylana was.

(deep breath) sooooooooooo.....I think that covers most of it. those are my dumb dumbs, enjoy

#avatar #na'vi oc #neynari #se'txelu #rolukx #oeyä ayskxawngtsyìp #my art #shoutout to my friend tìrey for giving me an excuse to actually type all that out recently lol

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jarofstyles · 11 months

Text

Indigo- Sapphire

Hello my loves, here they are! Your favorite tattoo artist and his girlie. Let me know what you think plz plz plz

Series Masterlist

Patreon

Warnings- tattooing, mention of anxiety and needles etc

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Y/N had a lot of thoughts.

The first one was that tattoos hurt, yes, but in a different way than she had originally thought. Harry had been right in telling her it was more so uncomfortable than anything else, because while it wasn’t a sharp, blazing pain, it was dull. Throbbing. Like she was being scratched by her cat in the same spot. It was bearable, though. Way less discomfort than she had thought. It was nice to feel capable, to not worry that she was going to embarrass herself in front of Harry.

Which brought her to thought number two.

Harry was stupidly, ridiculously, infuriatingly gorgeous.

Y/N had been peeping at him as they spoke, his eyes glued to the piece as he spoke which gave her more of a sense of comfort. Like she was getting away with staring. It would be hard not to with him up so close to her, his warmth radiating through the plastic-y gloves. The first thing she had noticed was how nice his hair was. A warm chestnut hue with some natural caramel highlights- at least, she was pretty sure they were natural. It was longer and curled, little ringlets near his ears making her fingers itch to tuck it back for him. It was clipped up in the front, and that made sense considering he had a habit of running his hand through his hair, but she wanted to see it down again. The full effect.

In another way, she was happy that it was pulled out of the way because she could really get a good look at him. His jaw was sharp, but not so much that it was necessarily stone like. He looked like a statue, but one that was carved with the human likeness that made people feel uneasy. His cheeks were high and his brows were straight, not a ton of arch to them, but he kept himself well groomed. There was a tiny hint of stubble on his upper lip along with a cute little birthmark that she hadn’t noticed before. That had brought her attention to his mouth.

It was almost embarrassing, how distracted she had gotten watching his lips move while he talked. They were a raspberry pink, slightly wet from his habit of occasionally licking over the bottom one before starting a sentence. A pronounced cupid’s bow dipped in the middle of the top, making her want to trace it. They were a little bigger than she had normally noticed, but then again- she didn’t typically spend this much time observing a man in such detail.

He had a few blemishes, a few cuts that looked like he may have gotten himself while shaving, but it just made him human. Reminded her that he was just like her in that way. Just… gorgeous. His eyelashes were something she was incredibly jealous of, the irritating trait of men getting the good eyelashes striking yet again. She had to wonder how they’d look if he used her lengthening mascara? A wandering thought to think about later.

They’d been chatting about this and that, a bit of gossip about Niall and his new girlfriend who he had recently introduced to the group, some about her work, some about his. What really caught her off guard though, was how easy it was to talk to him.

Silences aren't awkward. Sometimes they fell into them and it stayed that way for a moment before moving on naturally and she didn’t feel like crawling out of her skin. Y/N had a bad habit of wanting to fill those silences so she would babble, and considering she still had a decent amount of nerves because her crush on Harry was growing in size by the minute, she really liked this detail. He was being sweet and inquisitive without prying all that much, asking the basic friend questions- and some odd ones.

What’s your favorite color? His was Yellow, he responded.

Did she have any pets? No, her old roommate did and she catsits sometimes. He didn’t, but he wanted one.

What was her favorite gift she got as a kid? A knock off barbie dreamhouse. She hadn’t cared that it wasn’t the same as the rest of her friends, her mom had been so happy to give it to her that it had become the most cherished thing. She had it in her attic to this day for her future kids, should she choose to have any. His was a high quality art set.

Did she believe in the paranormal? Yes, she did. He was undecided. A healthy skeptic, he’d said.

It was lighthearted but also not necessarily small talk, which usually made Harry itch. He’d confessed that earlier to her, making her see a bit further into him. It was obvious that he was curious about some of the things about her and considering what had happened the night before, she had to wonder what the intention was.

He had said he got nervous around her because she was so pretty it intimidated him. That he said and did stupid things when he was around a girl like her. Insinuating maybe a returned crush? Confirming it? She didn’t know. She also didn’t know what he wanted out of this. Was it going to turn into a nice friendship where they laugh about his crush on her later on down the line, or would this develop into something more?

Y/N didn’t want to get ahead of herself. They’d just started talking, but having been repressed from allowing herself to feel that attraction to him, it had just hit her like a truck. He was so sweet, so gentle with her. The opposite of what people may assume about his exterior. When they went out, despite how charming he was, he was quiet most of the time. Outside their friend group, she had seen him revert back into a cool mask, stony and giving the impression that people shouldn’t come up to him. Not quite as intense as the one he had worn with her but enough for her to see that his resting face definitely gave him the reputation he had. Sometimes she wished she had that ability, considering all sorts of people came up to her to talk when she didn’t even know them.

If this was the real him, the one who had theorized with her if ghosts were real, she wanted to know more about him.

“How are you doing?” He had stopped to wipe some excess ink, looking up at her from the stool.

Harry had felt her staring. It had become increasingly harder to keep his cool when he’d thought about it, so he had tried his best to focus on the piece. It was easier said than done. He could feel her eyes scanning him, seeing it from the corner of his eye. It intimidated him. Him out of all people! That’s how he knew this was actually deep for him. Sure, he had crushes before. It was just- Y/N made him feel a lot of new things to him, and that’s why he had fumbled so hard early on.

This was her first tattoo and she had entrusted him with it. His art was currently inked on to her skin and the linework was done, finally moving on to shading. She’d taken it like a champ, sitting better than a lot of other people did. There had been no squirming, no complaining, just a request to move her arm a bit which he had happily done. Her skin took the ink well, the lines standing out against the tone of it. Still, he wanted to check in again.

“I’m good.” Her tiny smile came up again. It flipped his stomach. “Great, actually. I expected it to hurt a lot worse. I mean, it isn’t great but I wasn’t sure how my pain tolerance was going to hold up. It was just like you said, the scratches!” There was a bit of babbling from her, making his own lip quirk up. Too fucking cute.

“Great. You’re doing fantastic. I’ve had veterans sit in my chair and bitch about it hurting, so you’ve got them beat.” He knocked her knee with his hand before moving to switch out the needles. “M’gonna switch to doing a bit of shading now. This is going to feel a tiny bit different but let me know if you need a break again.” Eyes looked towards her water bottle he had given her sitting between her legs. “And take a sip of that, please.”

Y/N gave a little salute, nodding to him and doing as asked as he switched the things out. It was little cute things like that salute that made him want to cuddle into her. She was just stupidly fucking adorable and he had now gotten to a point where he was seeing deeper parts of her personality. It drove him mad. He had to pace himself, aware that not even 24 hours ago she had been nervous around him for a completely different reason.

The new set was finished being set up, Harry turning back towards her when he heard the water bottle crinkle again. Holding it up, she shook it slightly to show that she had drank down to another divet in the bottle, making him chuckle quietly. “Good job, sweetheart.” He praised, gloving up. “Thank you for listening t’me. Now we have to get started so we can get proper food in your stomach.”

Y/N was happy he couldn’t read thoughts because hers were going wild.

Sweetheart? Good job? The fact that he was going to feed her after?

Her thighs subtly pressed together. The words had gone straight to a hot, gooey, sticky place in her stomach and jolted right down between her thighs. It was depraved on her part really, considering it had all been chaste. He had praised her for listening, for drinking water. He’d only used a nickname… and that smooth voice that had her toes curling in her shoes. Heat burned her ears as he turned back to her with the buzzing gun in hand. Yeah, he would definitely have some thoughts if he could see how much just a simple praise affected her.

Sure, she knew she had a praise kink. It wasn’t a shock to her, but the ease of Harry being able to trigger it was a real problem. It had always been something that she melted with, being called a good girl, doing a good job, taking it so well. Praise kink 101, beginner stuff. Adding in the strikingly handsome and mysterious to her man with a semi admitted crush on her, his hands on her body and his willingness to take care of her? She was a goddamn goner. Finished. All he had to do was continue to stroke her ego a little bit and she would slide down to her knees. Pathetic? Perhaps. She never claimed to be anything otherwise.

His hands were warm through the gloves, holding her arm in place as the needles stippled her skin. Eyes went back to his face, his septum piercing corrected from being out of place earlier. Only this time, she caught him licking over his lip and swore she saw a flash of… something. Did he….?

Her mouth opened before her brain could tell her not to ask because it would be a blatant admittance to staring, but it was too late.

“You- Do you have a tongue piercing?”

Y/N winced slightly at her own tone. It sounded incredulous, but it was more so shocking that it had taken her a bit to notice that had her so surprised. More than judgemental, she was curious. “Sorry, sorry. That was a weird tone. M’not judging you! I swear. I just didn’t notice it and I thought I would have.” In her head, she facepalmed severely. Probably would have physically if it wouldn't have jostled her arm that was tattooed. “God, ignore me. I just didn’t know you had one and for some reason it surprised me.”

Her flustered nature made Harry grin. It was fucking cute. He hadn’t even remembered that he had one because he’d had it for a while but he had changed it recently. “Hey- It’s cool.” He let himself laugh, squeezing over her arm as he shot her a look. “I do. I know you aren’t judgin’ me. I changed it recently. It used to be pink, so not as noticable, I don’t blame you for not noticing. I wanted to go back to silver though.” He poked his tongue out a bit so she could see as he wiped away some ink, watching in amusement as her eyes widened.

“Oh. I feel like I keep rambling at you.” She laughed, her own embarrassment evident on her face. “That’s so cool. I thought about getting my nose pierced at some point but I don’t think it would suit me.” It still did sit in the back of her mind sometimes, though. It looked good on Harry, his occasional hoop and the stud he had most of the time always having been attractive to her. “I’m going to ask the overasked question- Did it hurt?”

Her curiosity was only natural. If anything, it made him feel nice to know she actually had an interest in that sort of thing. He hadn’t been hiding his piercing on purpose, but if he had realized she would be so interested in it earlier then maybe he would have switched a while back. “Eh, not that bad. It swelled up a bit so I had to be careful for a bit but luckily mouth stuff tends to heal seemingly quicker. I stuck with a soft food diet for a bit- got one of those punch cards at the smoothie place down the block, had 2 free ones by the time I was done.” He laughed at the memory. It was still a place he frequented every week. “Couldn’t do anything with it and had to be careful so I didn’t bite my tongue. It swells a bit and it’s partially why it’s recommended not to eat hard or spicy foods.”

Harry had given plenty of piercings before and the tongue wasn’t the worst, but the healing was defintely one of the more annoying ones. You couldn’t really forget about the swelling in your mouth, and the iron taste stuck around for a few days. Luckily for him, he wasn’t a chatterbox and people barely knew he had even had it done.

“Wow. I think you have a bigger pain tolerance than me.” Y/N laughed, feeling her cheeks cool down slightly. Harry hadn’t seemed offput by the questions, rather eager to answer it. But one more remained. “So is there a reason you got it? Y’know, the aesthetics and stuff like that? I’d be worried about a tooth chipping or something.” Y/N babied her teeth so any piercing in the mouth 24/7 would worry her.

“No, no. It’s far back enough that it doesn’t rest on the teeth, the roof of my mouth. There is a piercing I refuse to do that is a bar through the tip of the tongue. If you do it incorrectly you can cause severe nerve damage, and it’s known to chip teeth. But a regular piercing on your tongue isn’t much of a risk. Not in my experience.” He hummed. Again, he felt a little flustered at this one because the reason for the piercing was for aesthetics, yes… but. “Real talk? I thought it looked cool and there are… benefits to having one.” At her raised brow he knew she wanted the proper answer, making him exhale deeply. “Uh- It’s like… It enhances oral sex. Some people think it feels better.”

Harry was a self proclaimed pussy lover. He liked dicks just fine too, he didn’t limit himself, but there was just something about licking up a pretty cunt that had gotten dripping just for him. His hookups were short but there was always a longing to give more of that. It was something that plagued his fantasies, as shameful as he felt, thinking about the girl sitting right in front of him.

Sitting between her thighs with his arm locked around her hips, keeping her nice and still despite the twitches she would give off involuntarily as his tongue swiped up her folds, nose bumping her clit as he greedily lapped her up. He could beg for the chance to have her sprawled out for him and her thighs locked around his head as he took his time tasting her. He had been very respectful and wasn’t planning on doing anything to make her uncomfortable, but she had asked. He wouldnt lie to her.

“Oh!” She squeaked. “Damn it. See… I looked up tons of stuff about tattoos and nose piercings but I’m showing my lack of knowledge here.” A nervous giggle erupted, Harry noticing as she squeezed her thighs together. It was subtle- if he hadn’t been paying attention he wouldn’t have seen it. It was caught and he felt downright smug. She was thinking about it and obviously, she didn’t hate the idea.

“S’alright, pet.” He replied, looking up to give her a smile. “You’re sweet. Not a problem to ask me things you want to know. You don’t have to know it all, m’happt yo teach you anything.”

There was a slight shift, a heavier more charged energy in the room as Y/N sat quietly. She found Harry exceedingly handsome, his sex appeal not only oozing from his pores but his heart. She was trying very hard not to get ahead of herself here, knowing she definitely could fall into it if she allowed herself to do the thing she actually wanted. Shyness was her savior, at this point.

They continued talking until he was finished, helping Y/N up and standing with her a moment to make sure she was steady. One too may clients passed out after standing up after a session and he didn’t want that to be her experience. Once she was all clear, he led her over to the mirror to look at her tattoo reflected in the glass. How it looked on her body. She looked it over with a wide smile, flexing her arm to mimic the movement he had told her about before to see the stem did indeed stay where it was supposed to be.

“Harry.. I can’t even thank you enough.” Her words were raspy, awe showing through as she let him wrap it up. He had given her the lecture, the talk about keeping it from the sun, the moisturizing it, not itching, the whole nine yards. She knew most of what he said, but she had still managed to be surprised at how much he seemed to care about the integrity of the tattoo. “It’s incredible. Everything I could have hoped for, both in the tattoo and the experience. I’m so happy with it.” Big eyes were shining up at him, giving him the most awed glint to them. Without warning, she tossed herself into his arms, wrapping them around hus shoulders to take him in for a hug.

He froze for a moment, their embrace catching him off guard. She hadn’t seemed to initiate much touch except for last night when she was tipsy and leaning into him, so he had been surprised at her willingness to do so- but he wasn’t about to waste this. Arms wrapped around her torso, a chuckle leaving his throat as she squeezed herself to him all while being mindful of her tattoo.

She smelled really fucking good. A hint of sweet but defintely something floral. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she whispered thanks to him again, pulling back much too soon for his liking. She was beaming, a beam he had put on her face and a picture he wanted to photograph in his mind forever. He had made her smile like that. It had altered his breathing a little bit, watching as she gave him the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Yeah, he was effectively fucked.

“You don’t have t’thank me, Y/N. I’m really happy you chose me to do it. It makes me feel good that you trusted me enough even before we cleared things up.” He knew he would be making up for that for a long time. Not because she would hold it against him, but becaus he hated that his awkwardness had caused any sort of negative feeling for the sweet girl.

“Of course I did. If anything, I knew you’d be professional.” There was a pause before she lightly nudged his foot with her own. “I do prefer us like this, though. I had a lot of fun talking to you.” He had interesting stories, despite being quieter than her, and his voice was utterly delectable. She would eat it up anytime.

“Me as well.” He returned the shy smile to her, walking back towards his office. All her stuff was in there along with his own. Their hands bumped as they walked side by side, his heart rattling in it’s ribbed caged, the slight hook of her pinky as they entered the room making it pause before it was dropped. He had a lump in his throat, one that was begging him to ask for more from her, but it wasn’t the right time.

The right time didn’t come until after they’d grabbed some food down the street. Playing a slight game of knocking feet under the table and gentle flirations, both of them having hated cheeks and in harry’s case, heated ears as they spoke softly to one another the entire time. It was far different than being out with their friends, his attention solely focused on her and the quieter atmosphere allowing her to hear his quieter chuckles and little hums he made in the middle of her sentences as a reply. He let her talk his ear off about her hunt for a certain eyeliner brand at the shops lately and how she’d made friends with employees who text her when it came in, she was only missing the Sapphire and Indigo variations.

Harry sat and responded appropriately, even adding in some things, but he wa content to hear her sweet recalling of the baby penguins she wanted to go see at the museum desperately, her nosy next door neighbor, anything really. It was one of the best meals he’d ever had and he hated that it even had to end.

He could see himself more than happy listening to her rambling every night as they ate. It was a bit shocking considering how much Harry loved his solitude and quiet, but Y/N just tickled a part of him that had never been open for access before. There was no way he could fumble this, no way he could waste an opportunity to take a chance on this. He had to man up and simply ask.

The walk back to the shop was similar to the hallway, their hands knocking until Harry took initiative this time and let their pinkies link. Y/N continued talking, stumbling over her words once as she felt their fingers connect but her pace in words only increased. The smile wider. He took it as a good sign. The journey had been far too short for his liking, the fact he had to take his hand away from hers as she unlocked her car making him frown. Hands stuffed themselves in his pockets to keep from reaching from her again, watching her toss her bag to the passenger seat before turning to him.

“Thank you for-” “Go on a date with me.” Harry’s words tumbled from his lips without being able to stop them, interrupting her mid sentence. Working up the nerve to ask her not allowing him to wait a second more or he would lose the confidence. “Shit- sorry. I meant, would you? Want to go om a date with me?” He watched as she blinked up at him, those pretty eyes rounded and shocked as her mouth opened and closed. It was his turn to ramble. “I had a really good time with you today, and I like you. I know I probably hurt your feelings in the past but I will make it up to you. I took you out tonight but this wasn’t a date- I just…”

Oh, god. This was why he tended to stay the quiet and mysterious type.

“Harry.” Y/N’s hands braced on his forearms, squeezing as she laughed through the utter of his name. “Harry. Relax. It’s okay. I… I would really, really like that.” She watched him deflate slightly from his tense stance, head tilting to the right. “I had an amazing time with you. You don’t have to make anything up to me at all. It was an accident. I’m sensitive. But I like you too.” The admittance was quieter than the rest of her words, shyer. A grown woman feeling like a kid all over again. He liked her.

Liked liked her.

“Yeah?” He asked again, “I’m really happy t’hear that. I wanted to ask you before we went to dinner but I got nervous.” His hand returned to anxiously rub the back of his neck, shooting her his own relieved smile. “I won’t let you regret it. I promise..”

He stepped forward, holding her car door open for her while getting closer to her. It was getting dark and she had stuff to fo tomorrow which she had told him about, her whole itinerary actually. It was- you guessed it- fucking cute. “Need you to get home safe, so text me when you walk in the door, and then we can plan our date. Sound like a plan?”

Y/N nodded, not hesitating before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. This hug wasn less awkward, Harry’s hand falling to her back to rub gently a few times before she pulled back. He’d dwell on how nice she felt pressed against him later. Again, the girl decided to shock him, reaching up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek before sitting down in her driver’s seat.

“Bye Harry. I can’t wait to talk to you again.”

His cheek burned with the heat of her kiss the entire time he watched her drink off. It was cool but very much there as he drove home. The lipgloss stain burned yet again as soon as he got a text once he got inside his own place, shoes kicked off and arm over his head trying to relive the feeling of her lips on his skin yet again.

Y/N: I’m home, inkmaster :-)

H: All in one piece, I hope.

He wasn’t. Surely, a tiny bit of his heart was still stuck in her palm.

Y/N: Yep, lost my sunglasses though. Think they’re in your office. Good thing I’ll be seeing you soon

Y/N: So… our date?

438 notes · View notes

webslingingslasher · 2 years

Text

It's Better On Top

i relate cause this was me a few months ago.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: small smut scene, overprotective brothers and a small spiral of panic

Summary: you've always wanted to sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed, it was sacrier than you thought and you need your boyfriend to help you get down

There was a child-like wonder to Peter’s room.

The wall’s were a muted tone, chosen by whichever maintenance man who hated the idea of color. To make up for the lack of personality he’s added his own. Posters from being a tween till now, you could make out the older ones by the wrinkles in the edges. Pictures from all ages bounced around the room, ones with May, Ned and you. You always liked to fawn over his childhood ones, he looked so small and loving. He’d gladly follow you in the back of the van to see your new puppy, a favorite is one where he’s perched on May’s shoulders so happy to be up high.

Awards and certificates of his genius covered any empty spots, only small peeks of the bland wall poked through. He had trinkets all around, figurines and collectables. He kept his prized ones on a shelf where he dusted once a week, the others floated on shelves, windowsills, or his desk. And the legos, he had sets everywhere, he hated breaking them apart after. It wasn’t about maintaining a pretty thing, it was about appreciating his frustration, concentration, and pride.

He can do hard things because they turn out beautiful in the end.

You caught the loose pieces, tucked in a plastic tub under his bed.

His bed. Your favorite part of his room, he had something you’ve always wanted before. You begged your parents for years but they never delivered, you never had friends with one either. They just looked so fun, a permanent sleepover. Something to open the room, more space to play. When you first came over to his house you stood in awe, he had one. It was too soon to ask, and you waited until the moment striked.

Tonight was the night you would finally fulfill your childhood dreams and sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed.

“Question.”

Peter looked up from his desk for a moment, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth slunk back in. He answered your words with a raised eyebrow, he grunted looking at his suit sewing up the shoulder.

“Can I sleep on the top bunk tonight?”

His eyes flickered up to the top, then back to his suit.

“Why do you wanna do that? I sleep on the bottom bunk, you know.” He tugged the thread tightly.

You do know, you’ve never been on top though. It felt like a summer camp, as you imagine. You’ve never been to one, you wonder if Peter has. To sleep in the same room as Peter, arm lengths away, to have him softly snoring underneath you as you count the stress fractures on his ceiling sounded blissful.

“I’ve never slept on a bunk bed.”

Peter looks at you and grins, “You sleep on it with me.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah but I’ve never had the sleepover bunk bed experience.”

He drops his hands for a moment, “You never told me that, we could’ve done that ages ago baby.”

You perk up, “So tonight?”

Peter smiles softly, “I don’t know the last time the sheets were washed, I’ll set it up for you and I promise next time you can.”

You bounce up and down on his bed, you can’t help yourself. You’re just so excited, you leap up to cross the room to press kisses to his face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He laughed as he lightly pushed you off him, “If I had known it would make you this happy I would’ve had you up there a million times by now.”

You squeeze at him before clasping your hands, “It’s gonna be so fun, Petey. It’ll be like summer camp!”

He raised an eyebrow, “Does that make me your counselor?”

You ran your index finger down his chest and lowered your voice, “Shit sexy, you could be my camp director.”

He matched your energy, “I’ll direct your camp.”

You tried to bite back a smile, right before you broke it he sucked a breath through his teeth.

“That was bad.”

“It was.”

“Swing and a miss.”

“If you’re on my mound you won’t be missing.”

Peter fake gagged, “You’re just as bad as me, get away you’re radiating bad flirting vibes and it’s affecting me.”

You gasp and smack his shoulder, “Take it back! I’m not a bad flirt!”

He nods and puts on a dumb voice, “Okay.”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, Peter takes in your movements and gasps.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I will if you don’t take it back.”

“It’s not my fault you’re radiating bad flirting vibes.”

“That’s it, you have two seconds or the legislation is being enacted.”

Peter holds his breath and winces, he’s not breaking. Neither are you.

“I tried being reasonable, Parker. You’ve lost kissing privileges until you repent for your sins against hot, excellent flirter girlfriends.”

He holds a fist in the air and cries out, “Noooooo!”

“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me, me and my lonely lips are going back to your bed, where they will stay until I get a heartfelt apology.”

Peter pulled at the thread on his needle with his teeth snapping it. He tossed his suit on his desk and pulled at your arm as you walked away from him, spinning you around he pulled you into his lap and kissed you repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Each apology wrapped with a kiss. You giggled and kicked your feet and you pushed at his jaw but he insisted on kissing your jaw and neck.

“Okay, okay! Sins repented!”

“Did I do enough hail mary’s, my priest?” A wet kiss placed at your jawline.

“What kind of roleplay is this?” Peter jumped slightly, May was leaning in the doorway.

“I had to repent for my sins, May. I was just making sure I was in the clear.”

“He said I had bad flirting vibes, May. The boy had to be punished.”

May ran one index finger over the over in a ‘shame’ motion, “Shame.”

Peter groaned, “I repented! The priest gives me the pass, go back to Jeopardy, May.”

May raised her hands, “Alright, children of god. Dinner in an hour.”

She turned slowly as she walked away, “No more sinning under my roof, Peter. You’re on thin ice as is.”

He turned to whisper to you, “Did she just tell me I was going to hell?”

You nodded quickly and matched his tone, “Yeah baby, she did.”

Peter scoffed and looked at his suit with a sigh, “And just when a guy thinks he’s won enough good karma he’s tossed back in the hole.”

“I bet it's lonely down there.”

“And cold.”

“I picture rain.”

“Yeah, but it’s only on me so I can’t escape it.”

“Like one of those cartoons with the clouds above their head?”

“Exactly.”

“Damn. Well, I’ll send a postcard from heaven.”

“That is literally so toxic, get off of me.”

You threw your head back laughing as Peter lightly pushed at your thighs.

—----------------------

You couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed your face, Peter Parker was many things but number one on the list is best boyfriend ever.

He had sent you a picture of the top bunk, it was taken from the ladder. A new set of sheets and your favorite throw blanket you kept on the couch was tucked in the corners of the bed. His childhood teddy bear was tucked in the railing against the wall, a small paper he wrote on was taped to the wall, you couldn’t read it over the phone.

‘Guess who’s gonna have the best sleepover of their life.’ Was the text sent with it, you couldn’t help but send one back of your cheesy grin. ‘Did I ever mention how much I love you?’

‘Once or twice, it doesn't hurt to hear it again.’

‘I love my handsome, thoughtful boyfriend.’

He sent a questioning emoji, ‘You have another boyfriend?’

‘It’s amazing how you can be lovely and toxic at the same time.’

‘Like a fuckin mirror babe.’

You grunted at the phone with narrowed eyes.

‘Be safe tonight, don’t die pls.’

‘I have a very important sleepover and my girlfriend is losing her bunk bed virginity, (twice) so I can’t die, the gods have spoken it into existence.’

‘Just for that comment, I lied. I wasn’t a virgin.’

‘Trust me, you were.’

You sent a grumpy face, ‘I’ll see you tonight, I love you.’

‘Love you too, baby.’

You could hardly count the minutes down until Peter got back from patrol and sent you the come over text, as silly as it was it felt like it was healing your inner childhood. Not to mention, unknown to you, Peter totally leaned into it and was committed to give you the best sleepover ever, snacks and drinks and take out and movies and everything you could want at a sleepover was carefully planned.

Staring at your dresser you contemplated showing up in pajamas or bringing a bag, you figured you should bring some real clothes just in case but you were committed to wearing one of his shirts with some pajama shorts, ones he would say were delicious on you. They were too short for you to bravely wear them on the bus so you begged your brother to take you, it only cost you twenty bucks, he let you off easy.

You knew he was busy swinging and you always hated the idea of sending him a text while he was possibly in the middle of kicking someone's ass and throwing him off, however, this was life or death.

‘Are we eating at yours or should I eat here?’

‘I planned on chinese, I should be home in an hour or two.’

"Sounds yummy, let me know when you’re on the way home, it only cost me a twenty to get a ride.’

‘Highway robbery, man up and strap some webshooters to those wrists.’

‘I’d die and you would be happy.’

‘Cash in on that life insurance.’

‘I knew you were with me for my money.’

‘And dat ass.’

‘I’m taking a shower.’

“Ooh, take a picture.’

—--------------------------------

You resorted to painting your toenails and watch a quick murder mystery video on youtube while you waited for Peter to call, the waiting was always the hardest part, you were selfish and wanted him when you wanted him, you just had to remind yourself it’s just like he has a normal job but with better flexibility.

It didn’t make it easier, you still wanted Peter more than the city deserved Spider-Man. You would never tell him that.

You steady your hand as you applied the second coat, you took the shower first and wouldn’t be able to wash away the color that went out of line.

Your phone lit up with a picture of Peter, he was rubbing at his eye with a soft grin, caught before a yawn. It was the morning of a sleepover and you caught him before he made you breakfast and smothered you in kisses between May’s wandering eyes.

“Hello lover.” You drawled out the words like you weren’t waiting for his call.

“Hey trouble.” His voice was as smooth as aged scotch on the rocks

You heard him breathe in quickly as the air wooshed by him, he was heading home you assume.

“I’m gonna stop and get us dinner, head over in ten, okay baby?”

“Get me soup too, please!”

“Got it. Wait, should I get your brother something?”

“Are you trying to wine and dine my sibling?” You giggle into the phone.

“I’m trying to make him like me.”

“Crab rangoons are a start.”

“He’s gonna be my bitch in five years, just you wait.”

“Playing the long game are you?”

“You know, if you want to slip how good of a boyfriend I am for fulfilling your childhood dream on that car ride I wouldn’t object.”

“Petey, honey. He doesn’t give a shit about my childhood dreams.”

“Siblings are brutal. Thank god I’m an only child.”

“I’ll get him to come inside, you can bro hug or whatever and give him his rangoons and he’s guaranteed gonna tell me you’re cool later in private.”

“You’re the bestest, see you soon, trouble.”

“Love youuuuu.”

The second you hung up you nearly kicked the door in at your brother's room and told him he had five minutes before he had to tote you across town, per agreement.

Minutes later you were riding in silence as he blasted a new playlist, you would never admit it but you found some good songs from him. At a red light he rested his hand on his gear shift, picking at his bottom lip he tried subtle conversation.

“Are you gonna need a ride home tomorrow or will the kid take care of it?”

“If you don’t feel like picking me up then Peter, my boyfriend, will take me home.” Then follow up with, “Or maybe stay another night.”

He shakes his head quickly, “I’ll pick you up, just text me when.”

“He’s coming on the trip this year, you have to be nice. He’s nice, he’s good to me.” You say his name softly, he’s told you before that it’s just him fearing for your heartbreak, something Peter could cause and he would have to watch you heal from that. He knows how true heartbreak feels and he would never want you to feel that too, he thought he was dying.

He accelerated at the green light.

“I don’t hate the kid, I just don’t like him.”

You sigh, “You can call him by his name, you won’t summon him I promise.”

“He’s nice, I’ll throw you that bone.”

“Just nice?”

“He seems to treat you alright, rare to have a freakishly chivalrous guy this day in age.”

“I’m telling Peter you said that, he’s so anxious about you hating him. He is so desperate for your approval it’s kinda sad.”

“Don’t! Intimidation is the only thing I have over him.”

You know he jokes about messing Peter up if he dares dump you but you know it’s all talk.

“You really think Peter’s gonna dump me?”

“Between the two of you? Yeah. You could never do it.”

You snort, “He said the exact same about himself.”

Your brother just hums and turns the music back up, there was no need to ask for directions, he’s been on this route hundreds of times in the past almost year.

When he pulled to the curb you made a puppy dog face, “will you please come up? I have something you need to bring home and I don’t want to have to go up and down twice.”

He pulled his eyebrows in, “You can’t bring it home tomorrow?”

Shit.

“No, mom needs it now. I forgot to ask Peter to bring it over earlier.”

“What is it?”

“C’mon, please! It’ll take five minutes.”

He stared at you before groaning and throwing his seat belt off, ripping the key from the ignition. Without waiting on you he opened his door and started walking to the entrance making you scramble to escape the seat and power walking to catch up.

You walked in on him mass spamming the elevator button as if it would make it come faster, “what floor is the kid on again?”

“Peter.” you enunciated, “Lives on floor seven.”

“Right.”

He knocked, no, pounded on the door. Peter swung the door open fast, half worried you were desperate to get in but rather met with your brother's face. He quickly reset himself and smiled before opening the door for you to enter, Peter held out his hand for a shake with a nod of his name.

Your brother shook his hand firmly, “Pecker.”

“Peter!” you corrected, loudly.

Peter waved it off, “close enough.” Then made his way to you leaning in for a quick kiss, “Hi, trouble.” You couldn’t help the smile. “Hi, handsome.” He gave you a squeezing hug and mumbled in your ear as he softly swayed you, “I missed you,”

Your brother let out a gag, “alright what did you need me to bring home, this place reeks of Parker.”

“Ah! I got you these,” he hopped into the kitchen to grab the small take away box. “Crab rangoons.” Peter nodded at the container as he handed it out, your brother took it wearily, “I don’t normally accept bribes but this one slides, that’s-“ he made eye contact with you, “very nice of you.”

You nodded your head and couldn’t help the growing grin, then he realized your game and gave a nod at Peter then turned to leave he pointed at you, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I can bring her home.”

Your brother looked over his shoulder at him, then repeated himself “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

When the door shut loudly Peter looked at you with an excited face, “that went well, right? He only referred to me as a penis once!” You smiled before grabbing at his shoulders moving him to the couch and straddling him, Peter rested his palms on your thighs lightly tapping them, his eyebrows raised waiting for you to talk.

“He didn’t want me to tell you this but because I love you, and I’m starting to feel extreme pity for you-“

“Thanks, baby.” A squeeze.

“-Welcome, he told me in the car that he thinks you’re nice and you treat me freakishly well, so in his words, “I don’t hate the kid, I just don’t like him.””

“At this rate he may even tolerate me by the time we go on vacation.”

You squeeze his shoulders and place a chaste kiss to his mouth, “The rangoons just put you at not complaining if you come over for dinner level.”

Peter threw his head back, “Let’s goooooo.”

You let out a small sigh, he tried so hard. “It’s not personal Pete, he just doesn’t want you to hurt me and not that he would admit it, I think a part of him doesn’t want to like you because if we were to ever split he would miss you too.”

He pulls a dumb face, “okay but has he considered we won’t break up, like ever?”

You shrug, “Yeah, about that..”

Peter rolls his eyes and flips you to pin you to the couch, “you stop it, woman. I am going to wine, dine and bed you before banishing you from mine tonight.”

“Don’t wanna make the bed rock from up top?”

“And have my head whack the ceiling a million times? No.”

“I could be on top.”

“And have you whack your head on the ceiling? Absolutely not.”

“You’re such a gentleman, do you have any objections to making the couch rock?”

Peter dropped his jaw and scoffed, he looked over your face looking for your bluff, you weren’t kidding. He supported himself with one hand as the other slipped under his— your shirt, “You know May uses this couch.”

You nod as you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him in, “I know.”

He groans when you grind against him, “It would be dirty of us, we shouldn’t.”

You look in his eyes as he watches you pull up slightly pulling your shirt off, he glances at your chest before looking back at you. “We shouldn’t,” you agree with him as you shuffle your pajama shorts down your thighs, Peter lets out a room quieting gasp when you pull him from his pants.

“Fuck you’re eager.”

You lean up to place a kiss below his ear, “I’m just showing how much I missed you.”

He let out another curse when you rolled your hips into his, “You’re dirty, so so dirty.” ————————-

Peter had woken you up from the couch around one in the morning, he had let you sleep through the last half of the movie you had started. And you were sleepy until he woke you up and started to push you towards his room and seeing his bedside lamp light up the room woke you up more.

Rubbing at your eye you speak through a yawn, Peter still understands.��

“Course you can still sleep up top.”

He pulls down his own sheet and shakes his own yawn, you start to climb up the ladder and notice the higher you got the shakier your knees became, then you slightly duck because you’re closer to the ceiling than you estimated.

With a slight turn over your shoulder your tongue melts in your mouth, it’s higher up than what you thought. And sure, you’re not a kid and it’s just a bunk bed but it feels like all rational thinking went out the window, it was high up and you can’t help but think about the fall down.

“Help?”

Peter looked at you with a tilted head and his hands on his hips, he was about to ask ‘help with what?’ but rather used his detective skills and nodded his head. He crossed the room and followed you up the ladder, as he followed up you were able to comfortably sit on the top bunk.

You crossed your legs with a small smile, like you didn’t just panic and ask for him to follow you up in case you somehow fell backwards. Peter’s eyebrows rise to ask if everything's okay, you open your arms for him to follow you down on the bed, you close him in with a tight hug.

“I love you.”

He laughs and places a kiss on your neck, “I love you too baby.”

“Okay, I’m ready. Tuck me in and call it a night, dad.”

Peter watched you shuffle under your blanket with a grunt at the title, he leaned over you to tuck in the sides so you were snuggled in. He pushed some hair out of your face and pressed a soft, longing kiss to your mouth.

“Goodnight, trouble.”

You bit your lip to suppress a grin, only a whisper left your mouth, “night.”

Only lasting five minutes of silence in the dark room, which was your preference by the way, Peter didn’t mind if a light was on but you claimed you couldn’t sleep in the light.

“It makes my eyelids see through, Peter.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

You called out to Peter.

“Pst, Peter.”

He has a stage whisper, “yeah?”

“Have you ever been to summer camp?”

He shuffles in bed, you think he’s pulling the blanket up.

“I’m poor.”

“I’ve never been either.”

“Notice you didn’t say you’re poor too?”

“Money is a mindset, Peter.”

“Sounds like you’re poor.”

A sigh, “I am.”

You hear him roll over, your own bed shakes with his jostle, you grip your sheets. Your slight edge sparked Peter’s senses.

“You okay up there?”

You wouldn’t object if he begged you to come sleep with him, but you were going to see out this childhood dream.

“Yeah. I miss you.”

He snorts, “Reach your hand down.”

You follow his instructions and wiggle your arm through the side bars, his hand encases your own. For a moment everything settles and you almost ask for him to come join you, but you’re terrified of the bed shaking.

“Couldn’t be further from you if I tried.”

“Will you do this all night?”

“And risk a frozen shoulder for you?” He shoots out, then adds, “Of course I would.”

“Aw, you’re such a good friend!”

His hand squeezes yours, “what kind of a friend?”

You giggle, “the bestest!”

“Wrong B word, dear.”

You gasp, “ I don’t think you’re a bitch, Peter!”

He groans, “That’s it, fend for yourself. Goodnight, traitor.”

Peter’s hand drops from yours and he turns towards the wall, you whine when he pulls away from you. “Fine then, goodnight, Parker.”

You hear him mumble to himself and grin while you let sleep take over.

——————————

Your phone said it was four twenty three in the morning.

You wonder when Peter will wake up, if he would rise when the sun did or, more likely, sleep until you wake him up when you get too bored of entertaining yourself like you usually do.

You have to pee, bad.

You got as far as one step on the ladder then felt yourself slightly sway, you tried to find the next step but were too scared to extend your foot all the way to reach it.

You tried looking back and cursed yourself for sleeping in the pitch black tonight, you were in limbo between sending it and hopping down and crawling back up and waving a white flag.

Deciding you were a grown badass you forced yourself to take the next step and nearly slipped, Peter’s foot was resting right between the steps and his blanket made the step slick. You nearly fell backwards, in a rush you climbed back up and checked the time to see if you could wait it out.

You were able to wait for ten minutes, then a cramp hit and all you can think about is the toilet ten steps away.

Calling quits you realize your only hope was Peter, and he was dead asleep judging by his snores. Nevertheless, you start to plead.

“Peter?” A whisper.

“Peter.” A little louder.

He snores loudly at that one.

“Peter!” A whisper shout.

He’s not answering.

He’s not answering, and he’s not awake, and you can’t get down, and you have to pee and you were the one that wanted this.

You blink back tears, why do you want to cry?

“Peter!” You spoke in a regular but quiet voice.

He stays silent, you start to chant his name over and over, he doesn’t respond.

On the fourth call your tears break through, you sigh heavily. Tears dripped down your chin into your hands, you called out one more time, begging.

“Peter, please.”

You sniffle, then let out a breath of fresh air.

“Baby?” It’s raspy and spoken through a sharp inhale, he feels like cold water has been dumped on him.

He stares at the slats above him like he has x-ray vision to see through them to you.

“Peter! I can’t- I don’t know how- I have to-“ You start to breath heavy, your eyes flooding with panic and embarrassment, and you really fucking have to pee.

Peter untangled himself to stand up, he pulled down a leg of his boxer briefs that had risen with his tossing and turning.

“What’s wrong?”

You gasp for air, you feel the bed shake when he pulls at the ladder to pull himself up. You wrap your hands around your head, “I wanna get down, I wanna get down!”

You repeat the words over and over until you feel hands over your own, the bed dips where Peter has his knees on either side of you. He wraps you tight in his arms, “It’s okay, you’re okay. We can get you down, it’s okay.” You wind your arms around his, tucking yourself in your neck to start to cry.

Peter’s heart hurts, you’re scared.

“You’re safe. I’m here, okay?”

He feels your warm breath wash over his chest, you try and calm yourself down, it’s not as scary when Peter has you surrounded.

“I couldn’t get down and you wouldn’t wake up.”

Peter frowns between your studders, he hates that you were calling out for him and he didn’t hear it.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m here now, okay? Wanna get down?”

You nod into his neck, “I have to pee so bad.”

Peter breathed through a smile and kissed the top of your head, “okay, let’s go pee.” He pulled himself away and started to go down the ladder, you watched him with wide eyes trying to memorize his steps so you could match.

You looked up and noticed how close you were to the ceiling, your throat felt like it closed up. You could feel how shaky your knees were even looking at the space to go down, you figured you would wet the bed tonight.

“I’m right here, trouble. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

You shake your head, “I can’t. I tried and I can’t.”

Peter hums and looks around the room, he can’t carry you down. The physics wouldn’t allow him too, his only option was catching you.

“Can you sit on the railing for me, baby?”

You reached out a hand to wiggle it, it seemed sturdy.

“Okay.”

You white knuckled the banister when it creaked under your weight, “Peter, get me down, please get me down. I’m gonna freak out.”

“I need you to trust me, sweetheart. Just drop.”

You hold on tighter, your voice squeaks. “Drop?!”

“I gotta catch you, I can’t carry you down, baby.”

You look over to the window, the moon was lighting up one side of the room, you can barely make out his figure on the side of the bed.

“Can you see me?”

He lets out a small laugh, “Yes, baby, I can see you.”

You buffer and hold up a hand, “How many fingers am I holding up?” The other hand has a vice grip to steady you.

“Four.”

You whine, “I’m scared.”

Peter’s heart hurts again.

“I know you are, I promise I’ll catch you, okay?”

“Okay.” You don’t sound very confident.

“I’m gonna let go.”

“I’m ready.”

You loosen your grip then immediately double down.

“Okay, I’m gonna drop now.”

“Got it.”

You stay there for another second.

“Baby, you gotta let go.”

“Be honest, will you be mad if I wet the bed?”

“No, but how are you gonna get down after that?”

You breathe in deeply, “I’m gonna actually do it, you promise you’ll catch me?”

“I promise.”

You loosen your hold to push off, “I’m about to let go.”

“I’m right here.”

You hold your breath and push off as hard as you could, your hair breezes and your body feels weightless for just a moment. Then you’re caught, hands wrap around your back and thighs, you feel yourself bounce in his hold then level out.

“Caught you.” Peter’s voice is a whisper in your ear, you kick your legs to be let down. You immediately turn to wrap him in a hug, “thank you, I love you.” Then push him back to sprint to the bathroom.

When you come back in he’s back in bed, his blanket open for you to join. You couldn’t help but feel like a little kid, but it was dark and high up and to be fair you couldn’t see where you were going.

Sliding next to him his eyes open, “the first time I was on top bunk I was like, seven and I had a nightmare and I couldn’t get down and was screaming so loud May woke up and had to come rescue me.”

“I didn’t realize I'd feel so trapped up there.”

He hums, “It does feel like that, huh?”

“You were my hero tonight, you’re good at that. Maybe you should look into a job doing that.”

“I may have to look into it, I’m tired of being New York City’s Spider-Menace.” Then decides to add, “I’m sorry you were scared and needed me and I wasn’t waking up. You must’ve been petrified.”

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna go up there again.”

He laughs, “that’s okay.”

You roll over to stick your face against his arm. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“Your tears were coming through the slats, it was chinese water torture.” You open your mouth to bite at him, he grunts. “I’ll let you get away with that, you had a scary night.”

“Remember earlier when we were talking about B words?”

Peter hums, he’s falling back asleep. He never used to fall asleep so fast until he met you, having you tucked into his side always made him sleep soundly.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He opens his arm to pull you into him, “you make it easy.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm fic #peter parker fic #my writing

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vnards · 5 months

Text

Bear!Price pt 6

Price made light conversation during the ride to his place. He tries to ignore that itch under his skin to touch you. But he keeps things polite. He’s stays gentle with you.

He pulls up to his den house and turns off the car. He hoped you like the place. We’ll change whatever you want. Price tried to breathe through his nose and keep his focus. He counted to three before he got out the car.

“I like your place.”

John put his hands in his pockets to distract himself from rumbling happily, “I’ve been fixing it up a bit since I’ve moved up here.”

You looked back at him and smiled, “It’s nice.” Price was fucked.

“We should start our lesson.” He saw you beginning to stretch and get your hair out of your face. He could of swore you were doing it on purpose, but he couldn’t call you out on it. So he tried to look as politely as possible.

John walked to the porch of the house and took his jacket off. He felt eyes on his back and he tried not to preen under your attention like he did a few days ago. But this time was different. This time his purpose is to teach you to fight. Just in case.

“First things first,” He walked back over to you, rolling up his sleeves, “If anything happens where you feel unsafe, you call me.”

Your forehead creased, “Call you?”

He gives a firm nod, “Absolutely.” You must have saw how serious he was about this; about your safety. You showed you understood, your playful manner dropped for the moment. “If you ever feeling in trouble, I’ll take care of you.” That was more of a promise than he could ever mean.

There was a moment between you, a silent acceptance.

Price smiled, content and pleased. You followed suit. “Now,” He changes the subject and steps back, preparing his stance, “Show me what you got.” He teased.

Your smile turned devilish and a spark of adrenaline shot through Price unexpectedly. His vision became focused and fully on you.

You ready your own stance, much different than his, but he’ll correct that later. He spots your hand, noting the way you are about to throw that punch, uneven and unsteady. You swing and he feigns easily. “You gotta try better than that, sweetheart.”

Your smile becomes devilish as you try again. This time, your punch was faster, held more weight behind it. “Good girl. Again” He doesn’t think as he praises you, but your cheeks still tinge with color.

The next time you throw a punch, you connect it with a combo. If Price hadn’t ducked, you may have landed your strike. I smile in triumph as you notice his delightful surprise.

“My girl’s got some bite to her, huh?” Price taunts, dropping his guard for you. “Give me what you got.”

You accept the challenge with stride, going for a left fake-out combined with a low right, aiming for the body. She knows how to attack. Price’s breathing gets heavier the more you force him to dodge. He can’t deny the burst of energy that burns through him. He notices his senses becoming clear and in-tuned to you. A quick glance down to his knuckles, lets him know he still has his usual fingers, furless. Good.

You take advantage of his distraction, almost catching him off guard as you go for a body shot. You were fast. Price was faster. He was able to grab your wrists and bring you closer, pinning your hands to his chest. You smelled so much better up close. “Cheeky, I see.”

You shrug as you tilt your head up to look at him. “I’m a fast learner.”

Price tries to keep his cool and lets go of you, letting you step away and reset. The space between you both lets him breathe fresh air for a second before you notice how you’ve affected him. “The one thing you’ll learn from me is to fix your stance.” When you look down, Price pushes your shoulder and you stumble. “Your center of gravity is off.” He places his hand on your side to keep you upright. “If you’re gonna attack you need to know your defense is strong.”

You nod, giving him your full attention. Those eyes had him trapped. But, he stepped back, trying to remember this lesson is for you, not him. He almost could see you deflate before he continued, “Get back in your stance.” You do as instructed.

John takes in your stance again, this time beginning to circle to evaluate. You feel like you’re on display, a predator sizing up their prey. Price notices the shift, “You can relax, deer.” And you listen beautifully.

Price is pleased when you become more confident in your stance. “Good girl.”

<-previous part

masterlist ->

#captain john price #cod mw2 #bear!price #vnardshoard #john price #shifter!price

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the-ultimate-puppeteer · 2 months

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May I request Belle (zzz) finding a long-lost gn!younger sibling that's super oblivious and airheaded while she's doing proxy work?

Belle finds her and Wise's younger sibling while she's doing proxy work

I usually don't do gn stuff anymore unless the mood hits me but I like this idea a lot so let's get to it~

•Not many people knew it, but Belle and Wise actually have a younger sibling. Unfortunately, you were missing at the moment

•The reason being is that during the collapse of the old Eridu, they ended up being separated from you

•Hell a reason they actually started doing proxy work because they thought it might actually help find their lost sibling

•They knew the chances if you being found were slim and you actually surviving were even slimmer

•Especially since you weren't exactly the brightest person out there, you were airheaded and could be pretty oblivious at times

•That didn't stop them from holding out hope for you, though, since while you were airheaded, you are also weirdly competent and could always get yourself out of a bind

•And thankfully the siblings faith in you was rewarded

•It's took places a few months before they lost their Phaethon account

•Belle was in doing proxy work with the Cunning hares when they came across a random Agent in the middle if fighting several Ethereals

•And while normally they wouldn't interfere in such a mess, given that they didn't know who you were or if you were with Public security they still ended up watching

•Why well it was because of how despite the odds the fight was so incredible one-sided

•You skillfully and swiftly dispatched ethereals left and right dispatching them all in short time

•That when you start acting in a way completely different from when you dispatched those ethereal

•You were acting like an energetic kid, even bragging out loud about how cool you were, It was a stranger familiar feeling to Belle

•That's when you surprised everyone by suddenly popping out of nowhere right next to them and just started asking about directions

•Needless to say, everyone was confused at that point and caught off guard, with the exception of Anby who seemed to just be going with the flow seemed to be striking up a conversation with you

•That's when Belle noticed your way of speaking being extremely familiar, that being talking in the third person and your familiar hair color being a silver that fades into a dark blue

•That's when finally you stated what your name was in that energetic and ditzy way is when it finally hit her like a truck, lead to her to actually repeat your name out loud through Eos

•The way Belle had said your name caused the Cunning hares, to look at Eos with a questioning look, that's when she said your full name shocking you and asking a typical airheaded question of if she was psychic

•That's when she exclaimed in an emotional voice how you hadn't changed a bit and then called you by your childhood nickname that only your siblings knew you by leaving you stunned

•That's when you said her name out loud, shocking the cunning hares, asking if that was you

•Of course the moment ended up being broken when you asked how he ended up inside a bangboo.

•Being used to how you acted, Belle took the question in stride and introduced who you were to everyone else there

•That's when she asked the Cunning hares if they could put the current mission on hold promising them a discount on this and future missions as long as you got back safely, she wanted to get you back to random play as soon as possible to see you in person and to tell Wise the good news

•They'd finally be reunited with their younger sibling after so long, and when you finally showed up on their front door, a long and tearful reunion took place

#zzz belle #phaethon #zzz x reader #cunning hares #belle x reader #platonic #zenless zone zero x reader #zenless zone zero #zzzero

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annawrites444 · 10 months

Text

Bat Boys Relationship Headcanons

⚠️DO NOT REPOST ON ANY WEBSITE OR PLATFORM WITHOUT PROPER CREDIT⚠️

Azriel

he is definitely the type of guy to memorize the smallest details in your everyday life and take note of things you might only mention once.

OH NO! You're having a rough day at work?-he will drop off your favorite food or drink to give you a little boost during a hard shift or meeting.

If you have a bad day, Azriel will make you your favorite foods for dinner as he comforts you in his arms.

When you go on your nightly strolls down the lamplit streets of Velaris, you might mention a book series you were currently reading or talk about wanting to try a certain pastry from your favorite bakery that just came out with new flavors. Azriel being the ever kind partner he is, will not only get you the next book in your series but buy you a whole box of pastries from that bakery you both love, including the new flavors you wanted to try.

All in all, Azriel loves to show his love and dedication to you in the small things :)

Cassian

Cassian strikes me as more of an impulsive male. While we know he is very strategic and careful, he does love to have his share of fun with his family and especially with you.

You might be expecting a romantic candle lit dinner from the High Lord's general, but NO not Cassian. He would 100% grab his date and burst up into flight (with your consent of course) to show you the views of Velaris the City of Stars. You would go soaring in his arms, catching the golden beams of the lingering sunset and watching as the city below you drown in the remaining colors of gold before melting into the many colors of dusk.

Cassian might end this impromptu flight by landing you on a nearby terrace and wrapping his arms around you, telling you how much you mean to him, how much more you mean than all the stars you'd see in the darkening night sky.

Cassian is just as much the romantic as any of the other bat boys, but I see him opting for more activity based dates, and wanting to try something new with his partner.

Rhysand

Ahhh the most handsome highlord himself- Rhysand.

Now compared to the other two Rhysand to me is more vocal about his partners and is the type to brag on you quite a lot. (Out of love though <3)

"Oh YOUR partner is an excellent fighter?? Well MY partner is able to take down a hoard of men with just a few hits..."

Besides the proud bragging about his partner Rhysand really is loving, he will always be there for you with a shoulder to cry on if needed, listening to any rant or issue you may have weighing heavily on your mind.

He gives me the vibe that he loves to hear about any Tea or Drama going on in your life -"and then she got exposed for cheating." and then Rhysand would go- "OH N0O SHE DIDNT???!!!"

He would definiteley listen to everything you might want to ever say, should you be interrupted by anyone he would 100% stop the conversation and make everyone shut up and listen to you speak. "Excuse you, I don't believe y/n was ever done talking?? Continue darling".

All of this said, the three of them try their hardest to show their love to you in different ways, each one making you feel more loved and special. <3

#acotar x reader #acotar #batboys #cassian #rhysand #azriel #headcannons #fluff #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader

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ash5monster01 · 5 months

Text

Streetlife Serenade

Chapter Three - Weekend Song 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, money struggles, emotional vulnerability, mentions of sleeping together, minor language, just two kids in love.

Summary: You and Steve finally both get a weekend off of work and Steve wastes no time taking you on a little getaway for just the two of you. It may not be much but it’s enough.

word count: 2.5k

Two ←→ Four

Masterlist

Winter 1986

If I'm gonna lose it I might as well be doin' it right

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the clock. It had been like this his entire shift. Robin had already yelled at him twice for not helping her restock but how could he? How could he do something as mundane as putting movies on a shelf when he knew in just two hours you will be standing at your door and ready to go?

He had been working to hard anyway, picking up shifts just to fill the time when Robin and the kids were at school, and to spend more time with you. It had been back breaking and the overtime had run him down. The only thing even keeping him alive was doing a nine to five shift and knowing it was one step closer to getting enough money to share a life with you.

When the clock finally strikes five he’s out the door as fast as Cinderella at midnight, leaving Robin in his dust who just rolls her eyes because her best friend is dumb and in love. He knew he didn’t have the money to go on a trip but for the first time since starting at Family Video you both had the weekend off, so he was going to take his girl on a get away trip. Whether you picked him up, met him at the station, or rode in his car for hours. He couldn’t afford a vacation but he could take the strain if it meant going with you.

“Hey baby, you ready?” he calls out, pushing the door open to your home. When he sees you scurry down the stairs, bag hung over your shoulder he can’t help but smile.

“How was work?” you beam at him, arms coiling around his neck the minute his wrap around your waist. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips before providing an answer.

“Long, you ready?” he asks, desperate to hit the road and have you to himself all weekend.

“Yes Mr. Eager” you say, poking at his sides and he lightly flinches and pulls away.

“I’m just excited baby, we got some money to spend tonight” he grins that Steve Harrington grin at you and you just roll your eyes, used to effect he had on you.

“No we don’t but I suppose we can treat ourselves this one time” you smile back at him, knowing this was a big step in your relationship. This was your first trip together and even if it was small it meant things were getting even more serious between you.

“Yes, let’s do this thing” he claps and you roll your eyes, moving to put on your shoes. Steve shakes away his weekday blues as he lets the anticipation of the weekend envelop him. He knew pretty soon he’d be leaving with the wages he was receiving but at the very least he could treat you to something fun.

“Come on baby, take me away” he says as your hand interlocks his and you step out the door. You roll your eyes at his excitement despite secretly loving it.

You had been excited for this trip all day too, preparing and watching the clock for when Steve would arrive. Making sure you had a meal, shower, and change of clothes for the small getaway trip. When he finally came through that door it was like a breath of fresh air to your lungs. In just a few hours you’d be in Indianapolis, in a small motel, and seeing the city for the very first time.

Taking off down the road, dusk falling upon you, you fumble through the cassettes in Steve’s center console. Searching for the perfect road trip album. Just as your fingers find the colorful album art you grab it quickly and pop it into the stereo. Streetlife Serenader starting through the speakers. Suddenly Steve chuckles to himself and you give him a curious look.

“What?” you pry, hand curling around his arm on the gearshift.

“Nothing, I just think it’s funny I find a way to burn my money as quick as I earned it” he says, flashing you a smile that holds no regret. As much as you both had been saving up to get out of that crummy job, small set backs like this made it all worth it. You can’t have a future together if you don’t spend time together now.

“You’ll earn it back next week” you tell him, eyes glancing over his form. The boy you had come to love so much in the last year.

“I’d just broke even tonight, but I know it’ll be alright. There is no one else I’d rather be doing this with than you” he says, leaning over to offer a quick kiss before facing the road.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a big city. What do you think the canal is like?” you muse, excited to be somewhere other than small town Hawkins for once.

“Big, what do you think the motel bed will look like?” he asks, daring a glance at you and you gasp softly, hand reaching to smack his chest.

“Steven, it’s vacation. We can’t stay in the room the whole time” you tell him with the shake of your head and he laughs.

“I know Rosy but I just worked an eight hour day at the video store and am now driving for God knows how long. I’m dreaming of that bed and more specifically you in it” he tells you earnestly and your ears burn pink, proving that nickname even further. Steve just smiles at your reaction and lets go of the gearshift to lace his fingers with your own.

“We’ll be there soon enough” you tell him, lifting his hand to press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

It was shocking how the closer you got to the city, the more you could see the bright light in the distance. You had heard how cities were always awake and until now you never really understood what that meant. It’s not until the car finally meets road between sky high buildings, lit up like Christmas trees, do you understand exactly what that means. By this time now in Hawkins the street lights would barely be providing enough light to make it down the road but here, the street was clear as day.

“It’s so beautiful” you tell Steve, an excited grin plastered across your face. You can’t tear your eyes away from the people walking the streets, laughing and talking into the night air. Something you’d never see in small street Hawkins. The only night life there was in Hawkins was high school parties in the woods.

“I’ve seen better” Steve says, mischief dripping from his tone as he eyes you in the front seat. You just roll your eyes until Steve needs help navigating the hotel. After two missed turns since you weren’t paying attention to the map, do you finally pull into the two story motel.

“Hurry up, I want to see the room” you urge him when he takes to long to collect the bags and Steve just laughs.

“Says the girl who just picked on me for wanting to see the bed” he says, shutting the trunk and holding each of your bags in each arm.

“Don’t dwell on it now, let’s move it mister” you jump excitedly and he shakes his head even though he loves you and your excitement.

Quickly checking in you discover you’re on the second floor and facing the street, your excitement carries your feet swiftly up the stairs and Steve right behind you. Using the key to unlock the door you’re met with a small room, pink sheets, and brown carpet. It’s nothing special but it’s perfect. You’ve turned and thrown yourself in Steve’s arms before he even has a chance to set down the bags and the boy laughs.

“Happy?” he asks and you nod before pulling back and kissing him as hard as you can.

“Why don’t we freshen up and get some dinner?” you offer as you pull away and steve nods with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan” he agrees easily. He didn’t have the money to be spending on dinner but based on the way his stomach rumbled and the smile on your face, he would do it. He doesn’t wanna stand here and sound accusing since everybody does their share of losing, but if he’s gonna lose, he might as well be doing it right.

When you return from the bathroom content and ready to go, you find Steve has already begun to unpack your bags. Grabbing the sweet boy and his hand, you drag him out into the cool night air, illuminated by city lights and the glow of your love for on another. You never would’ve thought approaching the cute guy in the record store would lead you to this. You couldn’t imagine your life without Steve now, there was just something that made sense. You two just worked.

“Could you ever see yourself in the city?” Steve muses, shoving a french fry in his mouth as he watches you from across the table in a small diner.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so” you respond with the shake of your head, eyes glancing over the various customers here on a late night. As much as the city was beautiful there was no community.

“Why’s that?” he questions further and you shrug, eyes cast on your half ate burger.

“As much as it’s exciting, no one knows anybody here. They’re all strangers and in a way it’s really lonely. When I go somewhere in Hawkins I know everybody. I like having those relationships. Makes me feel like I belong. I don’t think anyone could ever really belong to a city” you finally tell him, eyes shining into his own and Steve smiles.

“Same, even with all the bad things that have happened in Hawkins over the years I couldn’t really see myself leaving everyone, especially the kids” Steve tells you, hand running through his hair and you grin when one strand falls right back into place, stubborn as ever.

“King Steve hasn’t dreamed of living somewhere grander?” you tease and Steve rolls his eyes at the nickname you know he hates. You use it anyway, knowing with you he’d never have a chance to mind.

“Just with you” he answers simply, stunning you silent and you can’t help the cheesy grin that crosses your face.

“Steve Harrington would move out of his parents big luxurious house to just to bum it with a girl” you say but Steve’s stare never falters, eyes locked into your own as he tries to convey every emotion he’s ever had towards you.

“Not just any girl, you” he smiles, voice just barely above a whisper, and you have to glance away from the intensity of his stare. Your cheeks burn pink, reiterating the nickname he had gifted you all that time ago.

“I’m nothing special” you say with the shake of your head, hands reaching to tuck some hair behind your ears. Steve sighs, eyes glancing along the neon lights of the small diner, taking in the smell of grease heavy in the air, and the buzz of the milkshake machine.

“Rosy, before you I never thought I’d be happy again. That I was just one of those guys who peaked in high school and never really found anyone who would love him. Then on a particularly sad day when I wanted to feel close to my Grandpa, I ended up finding you” he tells you earnestly and finally you lift your eyes to meet his own again, a smile covering your face.

“You think it was fate?” you grin, hand reaching across the table to meet his own and Steve just smiles back, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Maybe but that day I told you my Grandpas favorite Billy Joel song was the one that described how he felt about my Grandmother and how the right women could turn you around and heal you when you least expect it. You did that to me Rosy, you healed me” he says and the seriousness in his eyes only furthers his point. Your heart is hammering in your chest because you had been waiting a year for Steve to tell you he loves you and this is the closest you had ever gotten. You knew that he did but sometimes it was all you wanted.

“So I’ve got the way?” you ask and Steve smiles, lifting your hand to his lips. Pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles.

“You got more than that baby, you got my whole heart” he tells you and you quickly let go of his hand, rushing over to his side of the booth and practically landing in his lap.

“I’m not hungry anymore, let’s go back to the hotel” you tell him and he laughs, eyes crinkling as he does and you have the urge to kiss him now more than ever.

“Now someone is finally coming around to spending time in bed” he telased you, finger poking into your side, and you roll your eyes as he pulls some cash out of his wallet.

“Whatever, let’s just go” you say, pulling him up and out of the booth to make the short walk back. The city is still just as alive as it was thirty minutes ago and Steve’s confession has made you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt. His pace is swift, eager to be back in the motel, and particularly in bed with you.

“Ooh, postcards!” you grin, eyes catching the new stand that you couldn’t believe was still open this late at night.

“Oh come on, don’t get distracted now” Steve pouts and you can’t help the giggle that escapes past your lips, letting go of his hand to file through the different cards.

“Hey, I promised Dustin I would send one every day we were here” you tell him and Steve shakes his head, arms hooking around your waist as he pulls you close, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Rosy we’re here to three days, barely” he tells you but you’re still just as determined as ever. Loving the kids that came along with being his girlfriend.

“I promised” you pout, finally landing on the one you loved and Steve just chuckles as you pay for it, scribbling a quick message, and sending it off. Preparing to walk away you don’t expect Steve to stop you, hand pulling you back from leaving just quite yet.

“Wait, I gotta write one too” he says, hands grasping a colorful postcard that says ‘Greetings From Indianapolis’.

“For who?” you question but he just hides it, scribbling the pen and address on the card quickly as he hands it to the man behind the stand.

“Don’t worry about it” he tells you and you let it go since you’re desperate to get back to the motel and spend the rest of the weekend with the boy you love.

Which in three days when you return home, you find the postcard amongst your mail with three scribbled words on it.

I love you.

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alkaisen · 2 months

Note

Maybe you run a flower shop which had William’s favorite flowers for sell! :3

: this was a really cute request, thank you :)

: fluff, slice of life, william j. moriarty x gn!reader, kinda ooc?

the bell above the door jingles as you, owner of a well known flower shop in your town enter, carrying a floral arrangement. it is early, you're getting ready to open up for today and you can hear the chirping of morning birds.

you hum to yourself as you put the finishing touches on the arrangement, carefully arranging baby's breath amongst blue tulips. satisfied with your works you step back with a smile and place the vase on the counter, just as the sun beams in through the large storefront window.

a few locals stop in for their weekly bouquet purchases. you chat with them while putting together their orders. mrs. murphy orders lilies for her kitchen table while the johnsons need assorted flowers for their son's wedding this weekend.

as you box up the johnson's order, the bell above the door jingles once more, and you look up to greet the new customer. "good morning and welcome! how can I help y..." your voice trails off when you notice who walked in.

it's william james moriarty, one of the noble brothers that had moved in town recently. you'd seen him walking to work recently, but were hesitant on whether to introduce yourself.

he smiles at you, "hello, i just moved in with my brothers and was hoping to find some flowers to brighten up the new place."

you feel your cheeks flush pink. you'd heard that he was handsome, but not to this extent. you wipe your hands on your apron and step around the counter. "well, william, let me show you our selections. i think I have just the thing."

you lead him over to the rose display. "our roses are always a good choice for a new home. the reds and pinks give a nice pop of color."

william gazes admiringly at the roses. "they're beautiful, my favourite flowers as well. but i was hoping for something a little lower maintenance. my green thumb is more brown."

you laugh at that. "no problem at all." you walk william to the back corner where miniature rose bushes sit in terracotta pots. "roses are your favourite, aren't they? well, these mini roses are perfect for beginning gardeners. they don't require much care but the blooms last for weeks. they come in a variety of colors as well — red, pink, yellow..."

he runs his fingers along the velvety petals of a soft yellow rose. "these are lovely. i'll take one of each color, please."

"excellent choice!" you beam. gently, you lift the pots and carry them to the counter. as you're ringing him up, william strikes up a conversation. "have you owned this place for a very long time?" he asks curiously.

"about five years now." you reply, smiling at him. "i've always had a passion for flowers so when I saw the shop was for sale, i took a chance."

"it seems to be working out well for you." he notes, glancing around at the thriving shop. "do you live near here too?"

"just around the corner, actually." you hand william his bag of roses. your fingers brush slightly as you doe and you feel a flutter in your heart. clearing your throat, you speak: "let me know if you need any gardening tips for the roses. and.. free to stop by anytime."

"i think i just might take you up on that offer." william smiles warmly, bidding goodbye and leaves the shop with roses.

you sigh happily, watching him leave.

having a good looking neighbour doesn't sound too bad...

a few weeks have passed. it's a busy saturday morning at the flower shop. you're putting together floral arrangements while also helping customers. as you finish boxing up a large wedding order, the bell above the door jingles.

you look up hopefully, wishing to see a certain neighbor... and sure enough, it's william.

"good morning william," you say, hoping you sound calm and not too giddy. "what can i do for you today?"

william holds up a potted rose bush, it's blooms now drooping. "i'm afraid i may have over-watered rosie here. i was hoping you could give me some tips on reviving her?"

you raise an eyebrow; "you named a flower?"

william smiles shyly, shrugging.

you grin. "of course, let me take a look." you examine the soil, which is soggy & heavy. "hmm.. too much water does seem to be the culprit. don't worry though, it's an easy fix."

you lead him to the backyard greenhouse, "we'll transplant little rosie to fresh soil and trim away any rotted stems." a pause. "a dose of fertilizer should do the trick, too."

you work in comfortable silence together. you feel your pulse quicken at williams's close proximity and wonder whether it's just you that's feeling this way. when they finish replanting, your eyes meet and both share a shy smile.

"there we go... that should do it." you stand up and brush the dirt from your hands. "be sure not to over-water again! one good soak per week is plenty."

william reaches for his wallet but you stop him. "ah, nono. please. it's fine. i didn't do much anyway."

he pauses, hand still in his pocket. "are you sure?"

"mhm." you nod. "completely."

"well, then. thank you very much for your help, (name)." william says sincerely, eyes creasing at the end as he smiles down at you. "i'm not sure what I'd do without my favorite florist. is there... any way i can repay you?"

you feel yourself fluster at the title. before you can second guess yourself, you speak: "you know, the grounds are looking a bit overgrown. i could use an extra pair of hands weeding. any interest in helping out for a bit?"

you watch as his face lights up. "i'd be happy to."

you spend the afternoon with him, laughing and chatting as you work side by side in the garden. william is a willing pupil, and he soaks up whatever you have to say. when the sun starts to set, you realize hours have passed.

"i think that about does it. thanks so much for your help today, william." you say with a smile, although a twinge of disappointment is apparent now that the time is over.

"my pleasure." he replies sincerely. there's a beat of awkward silence before he speaks again. "(name), i was wondering...would you like to get lunch with me sometime?"

you beam. wow, was this really happening? "i'd love to," a pause." if you bring me a bouquet of those roses you like."

#📼 — received requests #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #william james moriarty x you #mtp x you #mtp x reader #ynm x you #ynm x reader

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hyuukais · 1 year

Text

Waiting

Finally, after many busy weeks, you’d be getting to see your boyfriend again. Beomgyu was coming home for an entire weekend. However, you were still stuck at the worst part of his return, the waiting.

word count: 1.5k

genres: beomgyu x streamer!reader, slice of life, fluff, insinuations of angst

warnings: language, mentions of executive dysfunction, reader plays zelda specifically botw because i do not have totk 👎👎👎👎

author: FINALLY SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY !! hopefully i will have more content coming soon im just in a major slump atm 😔 also shoutout to @ssunnae & @bobariki sunny and rue thank you both so so much for beta-reading this !!

The colorful LEDs shift along the floorboards, currently a fog of purple misting the floor. Trickles of soft mood music set the low-light room into its sleepy atmosphere. Two large monitors illuminate your face in blue light, aided by a small ring light situated to your left. Amid the calm, an underwhelming rage slowly fizzles up in your throat.

“Oh come on; not right now, please!” The sudden battle music picking up in your headphones sends you into a panic as an enemy health bar appears at the top of the screen. Rain crashes on Link, lightning streaking across in pixels. Your fingers smash around frantically, trying to run away as the Lynel begins to draw its bow.

“Please please please please, don’t-” Unable to draw a weapon or get away, a hard strike lighting descends on the character. The hearts filling the top left of the screen go dark.

“God-fuck!” Red light blinds your eyes with the large “Game Over” fading onto the screen. Your head slams down onto the desk, the top of it all that’s left in view of the camera. The long-winded groan that leaves you is still picked up well by your mic. Chat messages fly fast along your monitor; many expressing their simple sympathy for your defeat, others instead laughing at the situation.

Slowly drawing yourself back up, you catch on the monitor displaying the stream and take a moment to look at everything. “Man…I know I said today was only gonna be Zelda but…this is already the 7th time I’ve died.” Your words trail into a whining laugh. More comments flood the chat. Some call out your terrible playing, some suggest other ideas for the rest of the stream, and many are just extremely off-topic.

“I’m not usually this bad! I don’t know what’s happening to me.” You were out of it today, unfocused, and part of you knew why. “I guess…I dunno, I think I’m just tired!”

This space-y feeling had been following you all day. It was the sort of distance your brain felt when experiencing executive dysfunction. Stuck in a loop of boredom; waiting for something, anything. Struggling to do anything, but still wanting to. Oftentimes, it was hard to discern a particular reason for the feeling, maybe burnout or simply worms in your brain. Today, however, you could easily guess the reason. Today, there was something to wait for. After more than a few weeks apart, Beomgyu would finally be coming over.

You and your boyfriend were both busy people; both public figures in your own right. Although, his schedule as an idol was arguably stricter than yours as a streamer. Between the end of the North America leg of the tour, preparing for their Japanese comeback, and the new single, you hadn’t seen Beomgyu face-to-face in close to a month. It was like spending a month in hell. A month without having his hands in yours, body wrapped in your arms, lips painting your skin, heartbeat beneath your fingers; the reminders that he was real and he was all yours. So, now that you’ll finally get him all to yourself for a whole weekend, your brain was searching for any way to skip to having him back in your arms. Hence, why Link has died more than five times by your incompetence.

“Maybe-uh-why don’t we switch gears? Maybe Zelda was a bad idea.” Considering your head space, streaming today in general may not have been the best of your ideas; you still felt bad for skimping out on a regularly scheduled stream. You also kind of hoped streaming would give you some distraction from sitting by the front door like a puppy.

You click around, filling the screen up with your face as you exit the game. “Hmm…what about…animal crossing? Minecraft? Thoughts, chat?”

You watched message after message fly by, all varying that you don’t actually reach a consensus with them.

“I think…hmm…” You watch a moment more, “Okay, I think we’re gonna do Minecraft.”

Once again, your face cam is moved to the corner as your PC feed takes up the stream. The ambient music takes over for your voice, filling up the silence as things load. Grass blocks and wood load in first before the sudden appearance of buildings. You spawn near a small farm you last left off building.

This wasn’t the world you usually streamed from; preferring the action a survival world provided for content. Actually, this was a world you’d created and built with Gyu, and some of the other members much after you invited them. Although, your audience didn’t need to know any of that. “I’m just going to stick to creative this time, chat. Something…calmer, y’know.”

Soon enough, you find yourself sinking into a rhythm with the music. You keep working on the farm you left unfinished, fixing it up with the build of a greenhouse. Little commentary is provided; small tidbits here and there as you casually speak to yourself. Humming to the music at times and finding some focus on small tasks.

Your headspace shifting from inattentive to hyper-fixated, you’re not particularly tuned into any noise besides what’s pumping in your head. Perhaps that’s why you don’t notice the usual creak of the hallway floorboards or the awful squeaking of your office door. You don’t even see all of the chat messages taking note of those very things. Rarely looking away from the game, there’s no note in your mind of the torso slowly creeping up behind your chair; head just out of camera view, hands sneaking up to your headset.

It’s sudden, the relieving of pressure against your ears, the disappearance of your soft tunes, the realization that there is a person in your home and they are standing behind you.

Your scream is shrill and unending. The whiplash from how fast your turn around would have your head spinning if not for the new pumps of adrenaline coursing through you.

There, standing behind you, wearing the stupidest little cocky smile, is the cause of all your problems. Beomgyu was smart enough to keep his face just outside of the camera, hiding his identity from any viewers. Still, with pretty much the rest of him in frame, this is the largest glimpse your audience has ever gotten of your boyfriend. The chat reacts accordingly to such a realization.

You scramble around to mute your microphone and cover your camera; cutting off your connection as more and more chat messages fly faster along the screen. Nothing else matters though, as you spin your chair around to face the man looking down at you. He’s smiling still, eyes crinkled up and lips split wide. The way you leap at him sends him stumbling back.

Beomgyu’s hands come to cradle your back as you take him in your arms; feel him, his heat, his breath, the shake in his chest when he chuckles. His head settles upon yours. You squeeze his middle tighter and tighter and take in the depth of his scent. Head pressed against his chest, his heart beats softly in your ear.

“That…” You pull yourself away to get a look at his face, “was mean.”

He laughs as you slap at his arm; languorously boisterous, infectious with the happiness of his simple presence. A smile breaches your cheeks, soon enough, as well. Beomgyu’s hands tickle along your waist; keep you close, skin touching skin.

“It was a surprise.”

“More like a jumpscare!”

“Same difference.” His breath brushing your skin all this time finally comes ever closer. Douses you in his everything. A sweet peck on your lips, interrupted by a smile and a whisper. “I missed you.”

The fire of his words floods the pit of your stomach. His lips were barely pulled away from yours and yet that was too far. Your hands cupping his cheeks, pull him closer, filling your space with his. Breaths mingling with heavy words.

“I missed you, too.” You bring his mouth to yours; sway in his presence and feeling. Almost pulling away before more. “So much.”

Head tilted back, chest pressed into his, lips meeting in reverie. Beomgyu’s arms encase your waist; your fingers twirl in his hair. So soft, delicate, fluffy—so like him. Such is the kiss. Deep and sweet, nothing further than adoration. It’s intoxicating sugar; he’s delicious and addicting. His taste sticks to your lips as they leave his. Eyes still fluttered shut, taking in the disappearing feeling.

“I…have to finish off my stream.” You can barely stand to push him away, losing the soft brush of his thumb beneath the hem of your shirt, “You get yourself situated and I’ll be right there.”

The pout on his lips is nothing short of goading after losing your kiss. Still, he responds, although not without an eye roll. “Okay, but if you’re not done in 10 minutes, I get to choose the movie tonight!”

He plants a quick peck on your cheek before leaving you in the office. You have to laugh at how proud he is of that challenge as if you weren’t going to let him pick anyways. Though now, you may just have to get your own bit of payback and not leave him waiting.

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