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tomriddleslove · 3 months

Note

Omg I have a THEODORE NOTT request for you

Super duper angst hurt comfort

Theo’s dad basically hurts the reader and sends her back to Theo as a warning to stay away from such mudbloods and its just heart wrenching guilt and hurt and tending to her wounds through treat

Song: Half a Man by dean lewis perhaps?

I already have.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader (request)

Summary: The one where Theo has the one person he loves the most hurt by his worst nightmare. Alternatively: He thinks he’d rather die than see you in pain.

A/N: I DID MANAGE TO DO IT BY TODAY!!! I’ll be responding to the next few requests soon. You said comfort but didn’t specify a happy ending 😺

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, blood.

Theodore Nott never expected to fall in love.

It seemed rather bleak for him, to be honest. He didn’t have the time to think about love when he was too busy wrapped up in navigating the life he had ahead of him.

One couldn't blame him though. With his family as the only example of what love could be, he certainly didn't have a good impression.

Theodore couldn’t recall a single time when he had seen his father treat his mother with kindness or respect.

Let alone love? A truly laughable notion.

Theodore's father had not shown a single ounce of love to his wife, or Theodore. Even on that godforsaken day when Theodore had witnessed his mother die, his father had simply delivered a swift strike to his face and told him to ‘man up.’

So to put it simply, The absence of love in his family cast a shadow over his perception of relationships, making it difficult for him to fathom the idea of falling in love himself.

Then you came.

You came, and god, Theodore doesn't remember how he lived without you. It wasn’t a whirlwind love, a sort of fell fast and hard, rather you entered his life like a slow and steady rain, seeping through the foundations of Theodore's life till you had consumed them completely, crumbling them down against his own will.

It rained, and you became the quiet storm, soft yet unyielding.

Love came like the easiest thing when he met you. It wasn't foreign, or a distant concept; instead, it felt like the most natural and effortless occurrence in Theodore's life. Love with you was as simple and uncomplicated as breathing, a seamless rhythm that he hadn't known was missing until you came along.

You were more than shocked when Theodore admitted he didn’t think he could ever fall in love. The boy, who loved you as though he was born to (he argues he was), who would so tenderly kiss your forehead and hold your hand, not capable of love? The one who would leave his coat for you during the winter months and bring a spare scarf because, he knew you were stubborn, and he was worried you'd get sick, not deserving of love?

You kissed him deeply and made him swear he'd never think of that ever again.

You reminisced on Theodore like some sort of lovesick fool separated by war from their lover, though it was merely only the summer holidays. Whilst Theodore would want nothing more than to come with you, his father demanded his presence back at home. You knew little about Theodore's mother, and even less about his father. Anything leading up to a conversation about them would simply result in Theodore immediately redirecting the conversation, becoming a tad more guarded for the next day or so.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you, because he wholeheartedly did. He would place his beating heart in your hands even if you had a knife in the other, for he trusted you that much.

No, in fact, it was the very opposite. Theodore knew you, and he refused to let you ever get involved in that part of his life. He swore he would never let his father even lay his eyes on you.

He would have loved for his mother to have met you. He doesn't remember her that well, but he's sure, some sort of instinctive feeling within him, that she would have loved you.

You had been back in Hogsmeade a mere 2 days before school had started, to stockpile on some supplies for school.

Students were permitted to start returning to Hogwarts three days before school began, and you would always go back early, valuing having the near-empty castle. It meant you could settle back into a school routine comfortably, and have some time alone before school resumes.

It also gave you time to do stuff for Theodore. You didn't know much about what went on at his house, but assuming from the way he’d come back absolutely exhausted with bags under his eyes, you figured it wasn't good.

It seemed to be the same routine almost every time you'd come back - he comes over to your dorm (luckily for you, all your dormmates essentially lived in their boyfriend's dorms, as they were all friends with one another, so you had it all to yourself 99% of the time). He’d kiss you hello and wordlessly take off his shoes and jacket. You’d lie on your bed and he’d come lie on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He would rest his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat soothing him, as he listened to you talk about your holidays till he fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time, unburdened by his worries.

He’d sleep, and you'd trace the furrow of his brow. You ached for the ability to just, alivieate him of everything he carried so close to him. But you knew that healing was a long journey, and you'd be there for him on the way.

You wander around a little bookstore, finding a book for you and Theodore to read. You paid for the copy, turning to leave the shop when you bump into a man.

You quickly offered a polite apology, even though his cold gaze and disdainful demeanour sent a chill down your spine.

Those eyes. They were oh so familiar to the very striking eyes of the boy you so loved. Come to think of it, the hair was the same too. Was this…..

"Watch where you're going, girl," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the anger that threatened to surface. Keeping your composure, you replied evenly, "I apologize if I inconvenienced you, sir."

His eyes then flickered to the books in your hands, a sceptical look crossing his face. "You are a student at Hogwarts? What year?" he sneered.

You took a deep breath before responding, "Final year, sir."

Seeing an opportunity to shift the dynamics, you gestured towards Theodore's family resemblance. "You must be Theodore's father. The resemblance is striking."

His eyes narrowed, and he asked with an air of suspicion, "How do you know Theodore?"

You hesitated for a moment but decided to be honest. "We're dating."

Theodore's father raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and derision on his face. "Dating, are you?" he scoffed. "Tell me, girl, who are your parents? Perhaps I've heard of them."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you shake your head, responding. "I doubt you would know them. They're Muggles."

His expression darkened, and a look of pure contempt appeared on his face. "Muggles? Muggles?" He snarls, taking a step closer to you.

Theodore's father's face contorted with disgust, and his voice dripped with venom as he continued, "You, a pathetic Muggle, dare to pollute my son's bloodline? You're nothing but filth, tarnishing the Nott family name with your presence."

You felt a surge of anger and fear. This is what Theodore was trying to keep from you. That his family were prejudiced against your very existence.

Without warning, he roughly grabbed your arm, his grip tightening painfully. The pain shot through you, and you winced.

"Listen closely, Mudblood," he hissed, tightening his hold. "You're nothing more than a passing fancy for my son. If you have any sense, you'll sever ties with him before you bring further shame upon yourself."

Without a second to let you answer, he releases his grip on you, spinning on his heel as he storms out of the store. It takes you a second to recuperate and process what the fuck had just gone on before you turn and quickly dash out of the store, trying to catch a glimpse of his father. Sure enough, you spot him disappearing down a narrow alley.

Before you can stop to think, you chase after him, shouting as you do.

“Hey!” You snap, closing in on the distance.

Theodore was correct in one thing. He knew you well. And he knew that if you ever knew of his father, you’d get involved.

His father’s long black cloak billowed behind him, disappearing down a narrow alleyway that seemed to swallow his wrath. Fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger, you hurried after him, determined to address the injustice he had just unleashed.

Desperation laced your anger-fuelled shouts as you closed the distance. His brisk pace showed no signs of slowing, and as you reached out to grab his arm, the narrowness of the alley made it easy for him to turn around swiftly.

"How dare you touch me, you wretched Mudblood!" he hissed, his eyes ablaze with hatred.

Before you could react, he unleashed a hex.

It hit you with an intensity that sent a shockwave of pain radiating through your body. The force of the curse flung you backwards, and you collided with the cold stone wall, gasping for breath. A searing pain radiates throughout your body, and you cough, looking down. It was akin to some sort of slash, as though he had hit you with an invisible thing, a clean cut on your thigh, and arm. You see a drop of blood drip down onto your skirt and, dazed, bring your hand up to your face. You feel something wet, and when you pull your hand back it has a crimson red glistening on your fingertips, and-

oh.

There was a cut on your face too.

As you steadied yourself, you felt the searing pain intensify, a burning sensation spreading from the point of impact on your arm. Theodore's father approached with a malevolent satisfaction etched across his face. He looms over you, glaring down at you.

"You'd do well to heed my warning, Mudblood," he sneers, his voice low and menacing. "Stay away from my son, or next time, the consequences will be even more severe."

He cast a disdainful glance at your injured form before straightening up, his dark cloak billowing as he walked away without a second thought.

You took a deep breath, shuddering as you braced your palms against the cobblestone floor of the alleyway. You push yourself up, wincing as you try to ignore the throbbing pain in your body as you gingerly get up.

You gather your scattered belongings and look around, seeing nothing but the near-empty village. Summoning every ounce of strength, you began to limp back towards the castle, the weight of humiliation pressing down on your shoulders.

You felt exposed. The idea that Theodore had hidden such a massive thing from you, made you feel all the more humiliated.

You keep your head down and soon enough appear at Hogwarts. It doesn't give you the happiness it usually does, rather you just want to go back to your room and change, and sleep.

It was at this moment that you were rather glad that you decided to come back early, for you can only imagine the looks you'd get if it was packed full of students.

Exhausted, and simply just over it, you make your way up to the dorm. There are only two other students you spotted on the way, but they were far too busy snogging the daylights out of one another to notice you.

It reminded you of…

Theodore.

How would you face Theodore? Did you want to face Theodore?

No, you resolved, you didn’t. You couldn't comprehend keeping such a key detail from someone, let alone the person you loved. Why he did that to you, you’d never understand.

You unlock your dorm room door, dropping your bag at the door, You look up and to your utter confusion, see Theodore sitting on your bed. He looks up at you, the smile on his face very quickly replaced with a deep frown.

He gets up, and-

oh.

Never mind.

You did want to be near him.

You really wanted to be near him.

It was stupid really. You didn’t feel like crying at all, but the second you saw Theodore, that feeling very quickly resolved into the urge to bury your face into your chest, and not stop.

So you did.

Theodore's arms envelop you, and he holds you impossibly tight. He swears every sob that comes from you chips away at his being and he soothes you, rubbing your back as he holds you.

Theodore can count the number of times he's felt pure anger on one hand. Sheer rage. The type that consumes you from the inside out. Once when he was 8, and his mother passed away. He remembers hearing his father disregard the whole thing with such cruel indifference he felt as though a fire was blazing him from the inside out. As with many young wizards his age, he did not know how to control this magic.

He ended up setting fire to the library that day.

The second time, in 1st year, when Alicia Thornsby had made a cruel remark about Theodore’s home life.

“Well, my mother said that Theodore must have a horrible holiday. What, with his father being-” She starts, but she didn’t get to finish.

The teachers couldn’t comprehend under what vindication a child learnt a stinging hex strong enough to permanently mar the skin of the girl, but it was the first and last time anyone dared utter a word against Theodore.

That was the 2nd, and last time Theodore had felt unbridled rage, in his 18 years of life.

That was, until today.

Because, the sight of you, with blood on your cheek, sobbing into his chest, was enough to reignite that dormant flame of anger within Theodore.

“Who?” He manages to utter, voice strained.

You remain quiet, the silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle as you remain hidden in his chest.

He pulls back, lifting your chin. Your eyes are fixated on where the once-dried blood had washed onto his shirt, and he is fixated on you.

“Who?” He emphasises again, his eyes flickering down to the cut on your face. He runs his finger gently along the cut, and when he watches you wince he pauses, a flicker of pain crossing his face. The sight of you wincing, even at his gentle touch, shatters something within Theodore.

You hesitate before you speak, but ultimately, the words slip out of your mouth.

“Your father.”

The weight of those two words, "Your father," hung in the air, and for a moment, Theodore felt as if the very ground beneath him had crumbled.

His eyes widen momentarily, and he can't speak.

No, because there's a horrible feeling of fear, guilt, regret, perhaps a combination of all three, and it's lodged in his throat. It’s almost suffocating him, he can barely breathe, and it's constricting his airways.

The image of you, the person he held dearest, broken and bloodied, collided with the nightmare he had feared for years. He couldn't comprehend the cruelty his own flesh and blood had inflicted upon you, someone he cherished beyond measure. He speaks, and his voice is so heartbreakingly soft, a mere whisper weighed down by the burden of the truth that unfolded before him.

“I'm so, so sorry.” He utters, as though he prompted the hand that came down to hit you.

He believed he did. Because it was only by association, that you had been hurt by his father. That was why you were hurt, right?

His fault. All his fault. All his fault.

He has to take a deep breath and force himself to calm down and think.

Think.

His first priority was you. Always you. He leads you down to your bed and forces you to take a seat on the edge. You watch him as he disappears into the bathroom, reemerging with a damp washcloth in his hand. He kneels down in front of you, hesitating as he slowly lifts the hem of your skirt upwards slightly. He catches a glimpse of the gash on your thigh and that horrible feeling remerges again.

He gently wipes the cloth over the cut, leaning down to press a kiss on your skin. He mutters a few words, and with a small sharp pinch, the skin on your thigh begins to stitch up slightly. Not enough to fully heal, but to ensure it would in the future.

You don’t question how he knows exactly how to heal these wounds.

You know.

He does the same for your arm. Every second he stares at the cut, he feels his resolve shatter further and further, till he can tell whether he wants to cry or ensure the murder of his father with his own hands.

His hands come up to your face, and he lets out a shaky breath. He is ashamed to even look you in the face,

His own reflection of guilt and regret is etched into his features. He keeps his eyes focused on the task at hand, tending to the wounds inflicted upon you by the person who Theodore swore would never even set his gaze on you.

The room is filled with an anguished silence as Theodore continues his ministrations.

As he tends to your injuries, Theodore's mind is a battleground of self-recrimination. The echoes of your sobbing, the memory of your blood on his shirt, haunt him like a relentless ghost. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispers again, the words heavy with remorse as if he could somehow atone for the sins of his family.

With each stitch on your wounds, he feels the seams of his composure unravelling.

When he finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, the vulnerability in his eyes is palpable. The shame he feels is evident.

You muster a weak smile, a hand coming up to cup his face. Your thumb brushes against his cheek lovingly as you speak, your voice calm.

“It's not your fault,”

He wants to cry.

It is. It is his fault.

Theodore pulls you into an embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. The warmth of his embrace is both comforting and suffocating, a paradox of love and guilt; a conflict that threatens to tear him apart.

As Theodore lies down with you, the weight of his guilt still hangs in the air. He holds you as if trying to shield you from the world. He utters words of apology, repeating the words like a mantra.

“I love you.”

But amidst the soothing cadence of his voice, there's an undercurrent of resolution. The conflict within Theodore reaches its zenith, and a painful decision emerges. He knows he can't risk his father ever hurting you again. The love he feels for you clashes with the harsh reality of his future.

Theodore's grip tightens for a moment as if trying to hold onto the fleeting moments of solace. Yet, with a heavy heart, the decision he has to make is almost clear.

“It isn't your fault. Don't apologise.” You whisper, curled into his arms.

“It is. It's all my fault. I got you involved in this,” He utters, as though the admission is poison on his tongue.

“I’m not a good person. I have a horrible family, and he’ll want me to do horrible things, and I’ll have to do them.” He admits, voice breaking.

“No, you don’t. I’m here. I love you, Theodore. I won’t ever leave, and I swear you won’t deal with that alone.” You repeat, voice laced with conviction.

“I'm beyond help. Don’t give your heart to me.” He croaks.

You lift your head up from where it was resting, eyes gazing directly into his. You remain silent for a beat, then two, before you speak.

“I already have.” You respond.

Theodore should feel relief at those words, but he doesn't. Rather, he feels sick. Because he can’t, he won't risk you getting hurt again. He kisses you and pulls you back in, laying next to one another as he wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly, if only for one last night.

Because there was only one thing Theodore could do to make sure his father would never hurt you again.

He had to leave you.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #harry potter #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic

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chellestrash · 6 months

Text

Please, Mr. Ghost Face

Frank Castle x F!Reader Halloween Special (18+)

Warnings: explicit language, explicit smut, semi-public, unprotected sex, roughy sex, brat! reader, frank being kinda bitchy, oral (f!receiving) knife play, mention of blood play, teasing.

Summary: look at the title, look at the warnings, you know what it is, enjoy!!

Word count: 7.2k

AN: Oh my god okay, thank you @chelseasdagger and @suitsofwo3 for getting me to actually finish writing this (i literally felt like i was loosing my god damn mind trying to push through). I dont know why it turned out so long I dont normaly write things that are over 3k so this...yeah I really hope at least some of you will enjoy. I love reading your thoughs and feedback on my fic so please, feel free to share them. Reblogs are very appriciated as always :) HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

You're not sure how Frank managed to get his entire Halloween costume ready before you finished the few quick fixes to your makeup. Even considering the fact that it took you around an hour to get the whole look together, and he repeatedly told you no matter when he started getting ready, he'd still be finished before you. He was right. Was it annoying? Slightly, yes, but for once, him being right was actually a good thing since you were already late to a house party one of your friends decided to throw at the end of the week once most of you were finally done with work.

You fix up your lipstick and try the fake fangs on one more time before messing with your hair a bit and taking a couple steps back to check the outfit out in the mirror. Nothing too creative, just a simple well-fitted black dress, slightly shorter than what you'd usually wear, a couple of bright red details and some silver jewelry. A last minute vampire, sure, it'll do.

You straighten up the fabric and look up and down at your reflection one more time.

“Right, I think I'm ready!”

You raise your voice, making sure he’d hear you, before grabbing the last few things and turning to the door.

“So, what did you decide to go as?”

You shout again, curious about how much effort he decided to put into the whole thing this year. Halloween wasn't necessarily a holiday Frank enjoyed, but he'd do this and that occasionally just to make you happy.

“Did you figure it out?”

Another question since he didn't answer the previous one. You step out of the room, digging through your small bag in search of your phone before you walk directly into your boyfriend’s chest.

“Shit, sorry.”

You mumble and Frank grabs your arm, helping you regain the balance before you end up with your ass on the wooden floor.

“Christ, easy, 'you okay?”

Frank’s deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body, and you take a moment to fix up the dress before finally tracing your eyes up his body. You bite the inside of your cheek and it feels like the words get stuck in your throat before you can answer him.

Frank stands in front of you with his usual outfit on. Combat boots, the ones you rarely see him out of, one of the dark gray, now slightly worn off jeans, and a black tank top, his heavy, deep navy blue jacket already in his hand. The reason for your reaction doesn't have anything to do with his exceptionally ordinary choice of clothing, but rather with a thing you're not used to seeing on him.

The basic Ghost Face mask from Scream covering his face makes it rather difficult to focus on… really anything else. The loose black cloth falls onto his exposed shoulders, covering part of his neck, and you catch yourself staring at him and his body for probably slightly longer than necessary.

“Oh, fuck.”

You finally manage to get out a couple of words, and Frank lets go of your arm.

“Think it'll do?”

You catch his question this time but keep your eyes fixed on the mask as his voice flows from underneath the fabric.

“Shit, yeah, yeah it’ll do alright.”

You lean back on the nearest wall, looking over his figure from head to toe once again.

“Shit, Frank, where did you even find that?”

“Corner shop.”

He shrugs and takes a step in your direction after a moment. You feel your back pushing against the door frame, a familiar warm feeling growing between your legs when his frame grows bigger in your field of view. His shoulders and chest, slightly exposed by the tight tank top, the fabric clearly struggling some right above his sternum. You catch the corner of your lips pulling up in a confident smirk once you finally take in the whole picture.

The dark, empty eyes of the mask pierce through your own for a moment and you cross your legs nonchalantly before Frank finally reaches up to get rid of the cheap Halloween costume.

Quickly grabbing his wrist, you stop him before he’s able to pull the mask off of his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, his sudden confusion expressed by the pose.

“What?”

The question, slightly muffled by the dark fabric, only amplifies the smirk already present on your face. You grin happily at the Ghost Face character right in front of you, somehow feeling like he already knows the answer to his question.

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re into that.”

Shaking his head, he tries again but you interrupt the action one more time.

“Oh boohoo, and what if I was?”

You tease. Your impatient hands linger over his body, fingers rubbing over the fabric of both his shirt and jeans. Hooking your hand over the waistband of the jeans, you pull yourself up, pushing off of the wall and leaning forward towards him, rubbing your leg up his own slowly. The fabric of the dress slides off of you slightly, exposing a decent amount of skin. Guiding Frank's hand to the back of your body, you arch your back slightly, pushing your ass into his palm, humming satisfied once you feel his tight grip through the dress. Frank's chest expands with a loud sigh, the space between your bodies closing almost completely now. He watches you carefully; every move, every tease, every little movement you plan out carefully, seemingly only to get a desired reaction out of him.

“What if I was, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your purr, biting down on your lower lip, your hand now pressed against his chest as you gently drag your nails over the fabric. Frank grunts, the harsher touch clearly getting to him now, and you fight back some smart ass comment your brain so kindly decided to equip you with. Instead, you drop your hand to your thigh under the slit at the side of the skirt. Pulling the fabric back, you let a glimpse of the bright red underwear peek from underneath the costume. Frank finally breaks once you glare up at him suggestively.

“Mmmmm, fuck.”

He groans from behind the mask, gripping your ass firmly before pulling you onto himself, your leg hooked loosely behind his. Slipping his hand under the fabric of the dress, he digs his fingers into your flesh and you part your lips, letting out a satisfied moan in return.

“‘M not fucking you with the mask on, kid.”

Way to kill the mood. You think, but bite your tongue just in time, not willing to give up on the idea just yet. You can't help it. To be completely honest, it feels like his fault. You didn’t make him look this good in the costume, well, part of it, you never anticipated he’d pick out this exact one either. The fact that it was able to get these reactions from you and your body? Yeah, seems like you’re innocent. Gliding your hand between his legs, you drag your nails over the bulge before spreading your fingers apart, cupping the whole of it in your palm.

Frank grunts and the previously present smirk makes its way back onto your face, you don’t even try to act innocent anymore.

Listening to his now heavier breathing, despite his not so thrilled demeanor, his heart picks up the pace slightly, the blood rushing down between his legs.

A faint twitch under the jean fabric corresponding with his fingers digging deeper into your thigh and you know he's focused now. He's listening.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

You push the weight of your body against his groin, and his hand finds its way up to your hair. Fingers tangle into your hair before he tugs on it firmly. Your head tilts up, and the Ghost Face mask finally comes off once you cannot delay the inevitable any longer.

He leans in closer, his warm breath brushes over your lips, and you fight back the cocky smirk, not entirely sure which one of you wanted to feel the other more at this moment.

His stern expression only strengthens once you reach your hand behind him. Your fingers brush over his ass and you watch how his jaw tightens, his eyes closing.

“Oh, there he is.”

You tease, and he almost snaps this time, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“You try that shit one more time-”

He starts. Leaning closer to your ear, his lips brushing over your neck.

“And we're gonna have a big problem, kid.”

“Oh.”

You whisper, grinding into his thigh slowly.

“Oh, are we? We gonna have a problem, Mister Ghost Face?”

Your lips almost brush over his now. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, ready to have you bent over and waiting for him, ready to make both of you feel good or, most importantly, ready to have you apologize for the whole god-damn mask thing.

You breathe out a quiet laugh at the frustrated expression on his face once the sound of your phone successfully distracts you from his attempts to intimidate you.

With his hand still under your dress, the other in your hair, his leg between yours and his body leaning down over you, you answer the phone. Speaking as if it was the most casual situation possible.

“Yeah? Oh, yeah, we're on our way, we'll be there in a bit. Yeah.”

Frank watches, flabbergasted, as you make up a little story about why the two haven't joined the rest yet. You smack his shoulder a couple of times, pushing away from him and taking a few steps into the direction of the front door.

“What?”

You ask once the phone call is over.

“You're the one who said it's not happening.”

***

You arrive at the party a good while after it began. The house feels pretty crowded, the music is way louder than necessary, and you're pretty certain you're able to pick up the smell of both alcohol and cigarettes from the other side of the street. It honestly feels like one of those weekend college parties that used to always leave you with a two day long hangover a couple of years back. You shiver from a gust of the cold night wind and look over at your boyfriend while pulling the jacket close around your body. Frank looks unimpressed with that really significant frown on his face, not looking forward to spending the rest of the night in a small, crowded place with a bunch of people he didn't want to have to deal with.

“Oh, you’ll be fineee.”

Your oh so encouraging words earn you a stern look from him before he shakes his head with a deep sigh.

“Just go.”

You laugh and with his hand resting against your lower back, he pushes you towards the door, slipping on the movie accurate mask with a look of disapproval as you climb up the steps together.

“I’m throwing this thing out tomorrow.”

The muffled sound of his voice humors you, but you bite your tongue.

“Whatever you say, Frankie.”

***

This wasn’t Frank's idea, of course it wasn’t. He agreed to go to the party knowing how much you’d enjoy yourself but that was the only reason. The costumes weren’t even in the picture when you first asked him to join you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around to different stores frantically trying to assemble a Halloween outfit. The mask was the first thing he saw after stepping into that corner store earlier in the day. He didn’t pay it much thought earlier, but now? After you made it blatantly obvious how much you enjoyed the whole thing, well… he struggled to get through one conversation without his thoughts slipping back to what happened before you two left your place.

You weren’t any better. Even when you split to catch up with different groups of friends after you stepped into the house, you found yourself constantly scanning the room in search of either his face, the mask, or his back. Catching his glance from across the room, you smile, raising the bottle of beer in your hand up. He does the same, but the gentle smile on his lips wears off the second you gesture for him to pull the mask back down. Frank rolls his eyes, shaking his head, before continuing his conversation with some guy you managed to interrupt.

You could try to focus on other things, on the drinks, the music, the stories shared between your friends. You could…but you can’t. There’s no use in trying when your eyes keep searching for Frank every other moment and your mind keeps slipping into places you’d rather not discuss in a room full of people.

With that in mind, you make it your mission to tease Frank through the evening and really see how hard you can make this get to him.

It starts slow: some gentle touches as you pass him by here and there, pushing your fingers through the hair on the back of his head as you two try to hold a conversation with another person, sitting in his lap when some of the people move to sit outside, and most importantly encouraging him to keep the mask on. It’s a costume party, after all.

He catches on when you two are in the kitchen and you obnoxiously brush your ass against his cock while squeezing past him to grab another beer from the fridge.

He grunts, his fingers quickly wrapping around your arm, and he glares into your eyes, silently warning you, possibly hoping it would somehow get you to behave. It doesn’t. You shoot him a quick smirk, waving at one of your friends wearing an angel costume when she walks into the kitchen.

“We’re doing a group photo in the living room!”

She announces excitedly, and you grin, immediately matching her energy.

“Are we showing our costumes off?”

Frank's fingers loosen the grip around you, and you step away from him without hesitation, taking your friend's hand while she answers your question.

“Yeah! We're trying to get everyone in!”

“Oh, fun!”

Walking by her side, you step out of the kitchen, turning back for just a moment.

“You heard that, Frankie? Costumes!!”

***

Back in the living room, you all gather together to attempt the impossible task of fitting every single person at the party into one photo together. Frank joins everyone a bit after you, walking in your direction as you all begin to take your somewhat assigned places.

“Hi.”

You start innocently, standing on your toes, to press a quick kiss to the side of his face. Frank nods in response, cautious of your tricks. Standing behind you to make you more visible in the photo, he wraps his arm around your chest, and you quickly grab onto his forearm. Glancing back over your shoulder, you quickly point out the obvious.

“You gotta put the mask on.”

“Mind your business, yeah?”

He murmurs, and you breathe out a quiet laugh, not looking away even for a second while he pulls the dark fabric and white mask over his face. You take a deep breath in, and the corner of your lips pull up in a satisfied smirk.

“Frankie-“

You start, the gentle heat between your legs returning since he put the mask on for the first time, now more prominent as he stares down at you once again.

“Leave it.”

He orders in a harsh whisper and with his hand on the back of your neck, he makes you face the camera. Your body takes over your brain and when everyone poses for the photo and his hand slides to your lower back, you push your ass out and press it against his bulge. His grunt, muffled by the mask and the constant noise of the party, slips from under the mask and his hands find your hips faster than you realize it was happening. His fingers dig into your thighs, so hard you know it'll leave bruises. He holds you still, knowing god-damn well if he lets go you'll repeat exactly what you just did.

There's a flash of the phone, and once the photo is taken he lets go of your body immediately. You make up your mind, deciding to risk it. Pushing past a few groups of people that begin to form around the living room, you excuse yourself, glancing back at Frank to make sure he's watching before you disappear behind the corner. You make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't lock it. You know he won't let that whole thing slip. No more than five minutes pass before he decides to join you.

“Took you long enough.”

You point out and push yourself off the edge of the bathtub, standing up before taking a couple steps in his direction. Frank shuts the door closed and turns back to face you.

“Oh, you wanted me to just walk after you, huh? Make it real obvious?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest almost rubbing against yours when he looks down.

“No one would give a shit, Frank, everyone's drunk. We could fuck with the door wide open and they wouldn't notice.”

“Stop.”

His voice harsh with the warning.

“Why?”

You push without hesitation or any intention of stopping.

“That get you too much, huh? Bet you'd like that, Frankie, hmm?”

Frank's body tenses up at your attempt to tease him. He stands up straighter, taller, and his shoulders stiffen, his chest rising when he breathes heavily under the mask. His hand balls up into a tight fist as he pushes back the frustration, trying not to hand you exactly what you want from him out on a plate.

“You just don't ever shut up, do you?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slowly before you stand up on your tiptoes. Staying at eye level with the mask now, you squint, trying to see through the sheer fabric in the eyeholes.

“Oh I do. I can shut up but you don't like that, do you?”

You whisper. The muscles in his neck tensing when his jaw tightens and he shakes his head slowly.

“Yeah, okay, how ‘bout you try for once. Might do you some good.”

“Yeah?”

You whisper again, your hand now rubbing over the center of his chest, feeling the heat under his shirt.

“Make me.”

The words slip past the big smirk on your face and you decide now is the time. Sliding your hand down his body, you brush over the bulge in his jeans. Not giving him time to react, you grip his cock tightly through the thick fabric. With that, you watch whatever was left of Frank's composure crumble away.

There's a moment of silence where his fingers wrap around your wrist. His grip is tight and he holds it in place. You glance down, watching his hand for a moment, before squeezing him once again.

“F-”

He grunts, yanking your hand away with so much force you couldn't possibly even try to fight it back.

“That's it.”

Immediately, you feel his body pushing into yours once he shoves you back against the bathroom counter. Your lips part but you keep the moan back, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting into his exposed shoulder once you feel the porcelain digging into your lower body.

Breathing heavier under the plastic mask, he reaches down to the high slit on the side of your dress. His fingers push into your skin and drag up your thigh. Your breath rushes and your chest rises and falls faster now, the only indication, besides the elaborate banter and the teasing, of how much you've been thinking of this since getting to the party.

You hum loudly once his fingers brush over the hem of your underwear. Your hips push forward slightly in need of his touch once he tugs on the fabric to pull it down. You reach towards him, hands working the buckle of his belt open once the lace of your panties brushes down your calf. Frank reaches up, hand gripping the mask to finally pull it off, but you grab his wrist, stooping him once again.

There's a moment of silence when you both wait for the other to talk, the heat of your bodies radiating through the small bathroom. The pure lust for one another allows this to last only a few seconds.

“Keep it on.”

You request, knowing deep down that you can push him enough to actually have him fuck you with it on.

“Jesus fucking-”

Frank scoffs, pulling the mask off and looking away from you. He shakes his head, disapproving of whatever the hell you've been trying to get him involved in since the night started. He turns back to face you, his eyebrows pulled together, face in a frustrated frown.

“Seriously, this shit again?”

You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, hand on his chest as you push against his body, creating some distance between both of you.

“Could you just do one fucking thing without bitching about it so much? Like, is that too hard or?”

You push one more time, both the tone of your voice and the choice of words a lot harsher than before. You keep your gaze on his eyes, confidently staring him down after your annoyed statement, not letting go of this whole thing, not now, not with knowing how close you were.

Frank stands tall in front of you, jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other, and his chest pushes out with the breath he's been holding in his lungs. His eye twitches slightly before he looks off to the side. The bridge of his nose scrunches up when he inhales quickly, nodding once he finally turns back to face you again.

“Alright.”

He slowly pulls the mask back on.

“Your fucking call, sweetheart.”

Before there's time to react, he grabs your arm and shoves you against the sink, turning your body around in one swift motion, bending you over the counter and wrapping his fingers around your upper thigh.

“Your fucking call.”

His words travel down your body and between your legs, the excitement of getting what you wanted, followed by the thrill of the entire situation. The warmth between your legs grows once Frank pulls your ass back, kicking your legs open with his foot. You glance up, focusing on his reflection in the mirror in front of you.

The man towers over you, his shoulders broad and heavy, his chest in the dark tank top, his arm flexing when he holds your lower back down against the wood. The mask, fuck, the mask exposing the tense muscles in his neck, the whole sight taking over your senses, your mind and body.

His heavy hand rubs over your back, up and down a couple of times, before he pushes his palm under the fabric of your dress. Bunching it up, he pulls it over your ass and you can't help but push it out some more in search of his touch.

There's a loud scoff, and you see him shaking his head in the mirror.

“You know, you talk a lot of shit for how wet you are right now, sweetheart.”

He mocks you, pulling the black fabric up before pushing his fingers between your legs.

You whine out loud, closing your legs at the sudden touch but pull them apart again almost instantly.

“Yeah, s’ what I thought. You got a big mouth for-”

“Oh, shut up.”

You cut into his words and feel his fingers on the back of your neck. The grip tightens and he pulls you up, back into an upright position, your body now pressed against his chest. The reflection in the mirror makes your mouth part, but you bite into your lower lip, fighting back another moan. His figure looms over you, the mask ways up above your shoulder, his hand moving to the front of your neck. You feel yourself react to the sight in front of you, to the feeling of his fingers wrapping tighter around your neck, the warmth of his body so close behind you.

“What, you think I'm gonna say make me? Hmm?"

Pushing you back down on the counter, Frank steps closer to your body, his clearly hard cock pressing against your ass.

“Nah, that's your part. I don't do that shit.”

Taking your chance, you perk your ass up some, brushing over the warm spot between his legs. Frank grunts, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching down, pushing his pants open and then down slightly, pulling himself out of the black boxers.

Unable to win with your body this time, you slip up, letting out a moan once his cock springs out from under the dark fabric, stretched out over the large bulge up until this point.

There's a low chuckle from under the Ghost Face mask.

“That shit really gets you that bad?”

One of Frank's hands digs into your thigh, holding you close, the other wrapped tightly around his length.

You nod, making sure he catches the still confident expression on your face in the bathroom mirror.

“Oh, you've got no idea.”

You tease again and Frank moves his hand up to your shoulder blades. Pushing your body down against the counter, he clears his throat.

“Think I got some.”

He lines himself up, getting a few pumps in over his length before spreading you open with his free hand. He pushes inside slower than you'd have liked, pausing after the tip the second he feels how truly ready you are.

“You get off on these things, huh?”

He continues the questing, beginning to thrust into you, and you feel your body stretching to fit him in with every push. Your lips part as your mouth falls open before you bite into your lip, trying to muffle the sounds you're sure would otherwise fill the space of the small bathroom. You try to keep your head up, focusing on Frank's reflection. His body takes up most of your view. You focus on the mask, the low grunts coming from behind it, the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, out of you and then pushing right back inside, and the feeling of him stretching you out that never goes away entirely.

“You want it fucking scary? Hmm? That'll do it for you?”

He keeps up the teasing, quick to point out every single reaction your body presents him with, and you finally decide to bite back.

You reach behind your back, hand on the front of his hip, tapping your palm against his body to get his attention. Pausing his movements for a moment, Frank watches your face in the mirror, giving you space to talk.

“Yeah, you got me.”

You grunt, cursing under your breath, once he decides to move his palm between your legs.

“You got me but-”

“Gotta speak up, sweetheart.”

He thinks he has you now.

“The mask isn't scary, It's just hot. You should try harder to reeeally get me."

The feeling of his fingers rubbing over your clit disappears immediately after you finish the sentence. He starts up again from behind, and you feel yourself clench around his cock once he moves inside you. You hum loudly, and Frank wraps his big hands around the sides of your body. Panting loudly with his cock still inside you, he tries to focus on your words, knowing, and being almost completely sure, of what you were asking for.

“You know what would help?”

You purr quietly, watching him in the mirror. Your confidence flows back to you once you notice him slightly stunted. The mask moves in the reflection, his eyes focus on your face from underneath the fabric, and you know he's now thinking about it too.

“Yeeeaah, I know you have it, Frankie.”

His grip on you tightens with your words.

“You don't leave the house without it. ‘Just in case’? Your words.”

It takes a moment, but after that moment he reaches behind his body without a word. There's hesitation and he pauses. The bathroom falls quiet and the only sound between your panting is the muffled noise of the party outside the bathroom door.

Slowly, Frank pulls out his black, military grade knife you've seen on him so many times before. The one he always insists on carrying with him, the one you knew he didn't leave at the house tonight.

“Ohhh that's it, Frankie, look at that.”

You whisper in a condescending tone, bumping your odds of actually getting hurt up just a bit higher. He doesn't say a word, but the knuckles of his hand turning white with the strength of the grip speak volumes.

“This what you fucking want?”

He asks, pushing his hand into your hair before tugging to pull your head up. He pushes the blade harder against your skin. The sting of the sharp edge gliding over the inside of your thigh makes you push your hips back again. Once you make sure his eyes focus on your reflection, you smirk, bigger than before, and bite into your lower lip with a quiet whine. With a grunt, Frank holds you down in place, not allowing you to move further back on him,

“You're fucking sick, you know that?”

He points out, and you feel the win in your bones. Making yourself clench around him, you murmur quietly in the most innocent voice.

“Oh yeah, but you like it, Frankie.”

He breaks. His cock twitches inside you and he shoves your chest into the bathroom counter. Thrusting inside you, he follows his every move with a grunt. You grip onto the edge of the sink, now letting the sweet sounds of pleasure slip past your lips with no restrictions. Your breath hitches, the pounding in your head rushes once Frank leans over your body. With his chest pressed against your back, he presses the knife back into the inside of your thigh. You instinctively spread your legs open a bit more as he mumbles something about the knife again. The edge of the blade nicks your skin with the next thrust and you groan at the feeling. Rolling your eyes back, you let your head fall forward, fully aware of the fact Frank just felt how good that felt for you.

“God d-“

He starts in his raspy voice. His big hand holds your lower back in place once he pulls back, the drag of his cock slipping out of your body makes you curl your toes.

Lifting your head back up, you watch him in the mirror, seeing him kneel behind you quickly. You glance back at him confused, not sure of what to expect next.

You gasp, louder than you’ve liked it, but you can’t help it, it’s not your fault. You’d be lying if you said you were expecting him to do his. Kneeling on one knee, Frank pulls you closer by your thighs before pulling the mask up and he presses his tongue flat against the cut. It stings and you jump forward but he pulls you back to him before dropping his right hand to his cock, the knife still in his other hand while he strokes over his length a couple of times.

“So your cock’s fucking throbbing and I’m the sick one?”

You throw the question into the air and it’s like a slap across his face. He pauses, immediately standing up to shove you back down against the wood.

“You gonna act like you don’t like it?”

He spits out, not even expecting an answer, as he lines himself up with your entrance again. Adjusting his grip for a moment, he pulls you back on him instead of thrusting forward, and you struggle to regain balance for a moment as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you.

Out of your control at this point, your thighs press against each other, squeezing him tighter than before. He bends in half, grunting what seems like louder than the actual music playing outside the bathroom. You part your lips ready to deliver another smart ass comment but the force of his hips pushing against your ass, his dick hitting that stop deep inside right under your stomach? It knocks the wind out of you and turns your words into one loud moan.

“Fuck.”

You grunt, feeling your body dancing on the edge now. You prop yourself up, watching his body flex in the mirror as he fills you up, what feels like better than anyone has before.

You move on top of the counter, move with his body when he slips his hands between your bodies to finally push you over the edge. Making him drop the knife, you grab onto that hand and bring it up to cover your mouth with his big palm, muffling the sounds of your pleasured body as he works it even deeper inside you.

“Just needed it to hurt a bit, huh?”

Frank teases, pointing out how your body gives away how close you are now, how you’re unable to keep up the bratty demeanor anymore.

“The knife got you this close?”

You whine quietly through his fingers when he holds your back against his chest. His voice turns slightly softer when he fully takes in the state of you.

With your body shaking, your chest moving faster than he’s ever seen it before, your eyes watering and your hands clinging onto his arm, you let him make the call.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You grunt, frustrated with the slightly condescending tone, but still nodding your head quickly.

“Attagirl, you calmed down a bit?”

And another nod, his fingers roughing over your clit, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“Yeah, that’s it, c’mon. C’mon you got it.”

He mumbles quietly, helping you lean over the counter one last time. His hands rest on your sides and as he pushes inside you again, you whine. Then again you cry out, pushing your legs together. He only manages half a thrust after pushing his fingers hard against your clit, rubbing over the most sensitive spot. You feel your body tensing up with both pain and pleasure as you reach back to hold onto his arm.

“Attagirl, you got it, that’s it”

Your nails dig into his skin while he works over you, letting your body squeeze around his cock once it finally hits you. The overwhelming pleasure floods your body, and you feel the heat from the top of your head down to the very tips of your toes. Winning out his name, you make it pretty obvious he managed it once again. With your muscles tense around him, Frank grunts loudly, pushing into you one more time before he follows with his own climax.

“Fuuuuuuuck-“

He groans, his cock aching for release once he finally reaches it. He gives a few final thrusts when he fills you up before taking a step back to pull his cock out.

Taking a deep breath in, he reaches up, pulling the mask off of his face while watching you attempt to collect yourself.

You try to catch your breath, pushing yourself up before you feel Frank's hand on your arm. He helps you up, turning you around to have you face him now and you notice his loud breathing slowly beginning to mirror your own.

You lean forward and so does he, both of you taking a moment to calm down. Your forehead rests against his as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your breathing.

“Shit.”

You glance down quickly, feeling his cum drip down the side of your leg. Frank's eyes follow, the mask tilts down when he watches the drop slide down over your skin. His hands move to your waist, and he helps you up onto the counter with a grunt. You sit right at the edge, getting comfortable and spreading your legs apart while he slowly gets on his knees right in front of you. You hold up the mask, resting it on top of his head, focusing on his face. You smile at the red hues in his skin.

“Oh, Frankie, I almost forgot how pretty you look.”

You tease and he follows up with a scoff.

“Yeah okay, c'mere.”

He pulls you forward, slightly closer to him, before helping you pull the dress up one more time. His warm breath fans your skin for a moment before he licks over his lips. They press against your skin now, right above the knee. Another kiss follows but higher up your leg and then once more. You push your legs apart more to make it easier for him.

“Attagirl.”

He mumbles against your skin, his hand rubbing over your calf softly while he works his lips over your skin for another moment.

“See? You can be nice sometimes.”

He whispers, and you hum impatiently, pushing your fingers through his exposed hair before tugging at them slightly. He scoffs, and you feel the quick breath on your center.

The second his tongue brushes over your folds, you shut your eyes completely. Still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you let your body lead this time and your head falls back, resting against the mirror while Frank takes care of you.

You moan out his name, not even attempting to fight it back, and he picks up the pace. The warm and wet sensation quickly works you up more than you're actually willing to admit. Relaxing into the feeling, you push your legs open further and Frank chuckles against your body. Your core rumbles with the sound and your thighs quickly press together, closing around his head. He groans, tongue slipping inside you while the pressure around his face tightens. Tilting his head up, he nudges the tip of his nose against your clit and your hips buck forward, a motion accompanied by another loud moan of his name.

You cover your mouth, but only for a second, failing to keep the sounds in once he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Frank successfully pushes you into an impatient state where you know if he won't get you to finish soon, you'll do it without his help. Your back arches and you mumble his name in an attempt to get his attention.

“Frank.”

You start and your body twitches. Feeling another long stroke of his tongue.

“Mhhh.”

He hums deep into you. Reaching for your legs, he throws them both over his shoulders and digs his fingers into your ass, quickly tugging you closer to him.

“Frank-”

Your breath hitches and you gasp quietly, whining his name out one more time. You feel yourself getting closer, the sounds of the party seem so distant now you almost forget where you are. Almost, because as you feel yourself getting close to your second climax, when his touch becomes so much more intense, when your legs tremble with the feeling, right at that very moment you realize. You never locked the door.

Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, you press your foot against Frank's shoulder in a desperate attempt to push him away, but before you can do it, with his head still between your legs, Frank leans to the side quickly. With a loud grunt, he shoves the door closed with his shoulder without pulling away from you. He reaches up blindly, feeling the door for the lock, before you reach your hand over his head and finish for him.

He hums into your body, satisfied, and you feel yourself relaxing back into the feeling.

“Shit, Frankie...”

You whisper, pushing your hips forward against his face slightly. There’s a low, raspy chuckle that leaves his chest and you close your eyes, titling your head back to rest it against the mirror while he works on the second round.

You come shortly after and with your body so severely overstimulated, the soft, warm sensation of his tongue works better than he’d expect. He makes sure to take a mental note of it as he looks up from between your legs, watching when the second wave finally pushes you over the edge.

You rest, leaning against the mirror as he stands up in front of you, hand rubbing over your legs gently, his eyes fixed on yours.

“You okay?”

He asks. His soft, quiet question contrasts with whatever the hell the two of you just did in the small space of the bathroom. You lift your hand up, gesturing for him to stop talking and he chuckles quietly.

“Fair.”

He mumbles before turning his attention to his reflection. You watch as he cleans himself up a bit, washing the wet shine off his face and drying himself with the hem of his shirt.

Reaching over to the other side of the counter, he leans down, grabbing his knife off the floor and putting it away before handing the plastic mask over to you.

“Imagine if I didn't go out and pick this shit up.”

You snort, exhausted, enjoying how he literally managed to fuck the frustration out of himself.

“I don’t wanna think about that.”

You whisper, and he scoffs loudly, looking down and shaking his head before glancing back up at you.

“Yeah I bet.”

He helps you collect yourself, staying close by when you clean yourself up and straighten the fabric of your dress before handing you the previously abandoned underwear as you both get ready to leave the bathroom.

He offers you his hand, helping you off of the counter, and you lean on him while stepping down from it.

“Can you walk?”

He asks, and you look up at him, unimpressed with the not-so-subtle tease.

“Shut up.”

You mumble, hoping and praying your legs wouldn't just give out on you and give him something else to tease you about.

“Oh yeah, sorry.”

He grabs the mask and pulls it back on his face, then turns to you.

“Can you walk?”

He repeats the question, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I saw how hard you got.”

“Okay, that’s it. Out.”

He gestures to the door, pulling it open to let you out of the room. You hold onto his hand, letting him lead. You ditch your shoes and he carries them for you as you both make your way towards the front door, glancing back in the direction of the party before turning back to face each other again.

“You wanna get the hell out of here?”

“Yeah.”

You nod.

“We gotta get all the use out of that mask before you toss it tomorrow.”

You point out, pulling the door open, and hear his laugh over your shoulder.

“You don’t think maybe you’ve had enough now?”

His voice cuts through the night, and you turn around with a playful smirk, feeling the cold, crispy autumn air fill your lungs.

“No, no, I don’t think so. Besides...”

You slowly pull the mask onto your face staring him down.

“I don’t think you’ve had enough either.”

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank catsle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank catsle x you #marvel punisher #frank catsle smut #jon bernthal #jon bernthal character #frank catsle fan fiction #jon bernthal fanfiction

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piracytheorist · 5 months

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I find it really important that in the last episode, Operation Strix didn't even cross Twilight's mind for a single moment. When he stands outside early in the morning, he becomes determined to "traverse the difficult obstacle" before him... but it quickly becomes apparent that this "obstacle" is simply Anya's inexplicable mood swings.

And while he goes by the entire day going along with whatever Anya asks to do, mentally noting what makes her excited and happy - and what makes her upset, like losing at mini golf - not once does he even mention the "mission". Subconsciously, yes, if asked, he'd say that Anya's happiness and stability is what Operation Strix depends on. But in his immediate thoughts, it's just him trying to make sense of the behaviour he sees, and trying to encourage things that will bring out positive behaviour.

Waiting until Anya gets a scoring point in mini golf. Letting Anya read comics while in the library - and taking note when she starts at the puzzle, then looks upset by it (though he misunderstands the reasons of her change in expression there, as he doesn't know she realized the puzzle wouldn't be an effective distraction for him). Taking her roller-skating, taking her to a magician show, getting her food she seems to enjoy.

And while you could say he's being a little too methodical with it - with all his "observe, analyze" internal orders... that's not really that far from what an actual caring parent does. The ship offers a lot of opportunities for entertainment, and just like a parent who wants to take some time off and offer stimulation and fun to their child, Loid takes a step back and allows Anya to guide him through activities, taking note of the ones she seems to enjoy.

And yet, Anya ends up looking like this.

But this time, Twilight doesn't resort to his usual "I'm a failure of a spy" rhetoric. He is confused, very much so, but he doesn't despair as much. Though getting upset, he puts his determination to see things through in priority.

And at the end? He fears that what will break apart is the Forger family, not Operation Strix.

Subtly, we start to see how his priorities are starting to change. Without him even understanding it, he focuses so much on keeping the family together "for the sake of the mission"... that he completely forgets to even think about the mission.

And then, he tries a quiet and kind approach, fitting it to Anya's needs. He asks Anya if her stomach hurts, he's glad to hear she's having fun but keeps his worried expression to encourage Anya to tell him what's really wrong, and when she shares her feelings, he's supportive, even showing sympathy by saying he would have liked it too if Yor could join them.

His final inner thoughts are him reminding himself that Anya is young enough to sometimes express her emotions in an unpredictable way, and that it was something as simple as missing Yor that made her look upset.

And thus, though he's being realistic about the possibilities of meeting Yor, he offers to try and communicate with her in order for them to meet up. As soon as Anya expresses her concern, he takes the role of understanding her reasons and providing comfort... and all without ever talking about how it would benefit his mission. In this episode, he's simply trying to make a little child feel happy and entertained, listening to her concerns, and offering solutions. And though he may not realize it immediately... the fact that he hasn't been wearing his WISE pin during the entire cruise speaks for itself.

Working as a spy and fully dedicating himself to this way of life is how he's managed to survive in a world of war politics, so it's certainly not easy to fully discard it in one go. But how he goes from "The Handler knew Anya relaxing was about Operation Strix all along" in the previous episode to "Focus on what Anya likes, be supportive and understanding, mission what mission" in this one is very carefully handled to show how even though his methods stay similar, his priorities are slowly shifting.

(Anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

#Spy x Family #sxf meta #Loid Forger

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adventuringblind · 9 months

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If You Don't Want the Truth, then Don't Ask

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!Reader

Genre: fluff

Request: kinda...? People want more of this content, so who am I to deny them? My requests are open! Please don't hesitate to send me ideas!

Summary: One thing that Oscar loves most about her is that she's always honest. Unfortunately, it seems not everyone has learned that.

Warnings: Media being toxic, the reader gets frustrated at not understanding human behavior

Notes: written in third person

Masterlist

Oscar had fallen in love with her honesty. He never had to guess at her opinions on things or dance around subjects himself.

It was a reprieve from always being coached in media to finally not having to filter himself.

Anyone who had gotten close to her knew one rule she had: if you don't want an honest answer, then don't ask.

She struggles communicating with vocal tones. People often mistake her opinion for being judgemental. It makes her feel unable to speak up for herself. It was never her intention to cause problems. She was just saying her truth.

Emotional communication is even more difficult. She always manages to say the wrong thing. Oscar didn't believe this and felt comforted when she talked him through the truth of the day. But if she was struggling with words and emotions, she opted to communicate via physical touch.

She'd developed a code for human behaviors she didn't quite understand.

When charles was upset about a race, she hugged him. When Oscar was smiling, she kissed his cheek. When Max was being lectured by his father, she stuck her middle finger up at Jos. When Lando couldn't eat his food, she gave him one of her snacks that he also liked.

It became more natural to the grid the more she did these things.

Unfortunately for the fans and the media, they hadn't figured it out. It was ridiculous in everyone's minds how they never learned their lesson.

A picture started circling the internet once of her kissing Lando's cheek after an amazing race. She knew it was a happy moment but was too overwhelmed to deal with words. Oscar knew she did this to anyone she was comfortable with and knew she was loyal. She'd expressed repeatedly why she loved him and not Lando. Oscar only laughed as she went down her very pointed list of reasons why Oscar was better. Earning a pout from the Brit.

The fans started calling her all sorts of nasty names. It hurt her a little, but Oscar even more. He'd expressed multiple times to his fans not to involve her in drama.

Race weekend got a bit awkward. Journalists wanted to ask the two questions. Oscar was quick to deny them attention and left for free practice.

The nerospicy femal, however, was not as lucky. Somone found her hiding in the garage.

"Are you aware of the photo going around social media right now?" The female reporter asked her.

She hesitated for a moment, trying to find her voice. "Yes." The reporter waited a minute for her to elaborate only to receive silence.

She clears her throat. "Do you have any thoughts about it? Are the rumors true?"

She stares again for a moment. "I think you people are bored and want to pick apart someone else's life instead of your own."

It was the reporters turn to stay in silence. "That may be true for some." She fumbles. "But the concern of the fans is that you'll have a negative effect on the McLaren racing drivers."

"I think the fans you speak of are niave then. Not every human being is the same. I'm in love with Oscar, not Lando, as simple as that. Just because my affection looks different doesn't mean I'm doing anything wrong." The girl shrugs her shoulders. Simply stating a fact of herself.

The reporter leaves in silence. No other words were shared between them.

Oscar saw the article the next day. They were getting ready to head to the track for FP3 and qualifying. "Have you seen this article?" He asked.

"No, what article?" Oscar flips his phone to her. The reporter from yesterday had written an article about their conversation. Interestingly enough, it was exactly what she had said. The journalist was impressed with her honesty and approach to toxic rumors.

Oscar kissed her cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

The next time it happened was during an interview in the fan zone. She'd been standing off to the side with the other McLaren staff who follow them around. She likes listening to the fans ask the boys questions.

Then a fan asked a question about her. "Oscar, why is your girlfriend mean to the reporters?"

Both Oscar and Lando rolled their eyes. "She's here right now if you want an honest answer." Oscar smirked.

It was terrifying when Oscar and Lando were waving her up to the stage. She waited for the approval of the staff and security before exchanging seats with the Australian.

He looked so please she was up there. "The fans want to know why you're so 'mean' to the reporters, as they put it." The two boys were laughing hysterically now.

"I personally don't think it's mean. If they don't want an honest answer, then they shouldn't be asking questions." She shrugged. "Is there a specific time you're referring too?"

"When the vouge journalists asked if you were hiding something because you wear loose clothing."

Lando perked up instantly. "This is one of my favorite moments. We went out and got her favorite dinner after this to celebrate."

"Firtly, the reporter had no business asking that. I don't like it when my clothes feel weird and I was already overwhelmed so I wore what I thought was comfortable." Oscar put his arm around her. A hint of pride edging its way across his features. "Secondly, the didn't put the whole story. The reporter asked if I was pregnant, and then when I said no, he proceeded to ask me if I was wearing anything underneath."

"The comeback is the best part."

"I was confused why he asked me this, so I asked if he had anything underneath the hideous mask he was wearing. Then he called me rude." She frowned, but the fans were enjoying the story.

Oscar glances at Lando. "You should tell the next part."

Lando is still chuckling from the last statement. "I was coming around the corner and heard her say that, then I couldn't stop laughing. So obviously I joined in as well."

The other two were shaking their heads at Lando in exasperation as he continued. "When I came up next to her, she asked why he would ask something like that. It's a pretty common question between us, so I explained why he did it and why he shouldn't do it."

"Then he insulted him some more."

Oscar finishes out the story and also laughs at this point. "Most of the things in the article were what Lando said. The others were what she did say. Including asking if this was his way of flirting and turned him down on his advances."

She always missed social cues, and she'd heard some of the drivers flirt by asking what someone had on underneath their clothing. It was a genuine assumption.

Oscar found it most amusing as Lando recounted the story for the first time that evening. She had looked mildly dazed, frustrated, and confused. Oscar took the time, in between laughing, to explain some of the nuances she didn't understand. Including why they were laughing so hard.

Next came a conversation with Zak.

The boys were doing media things, so he'd started to try and make conversation with her.

He was a person who did not understand that she's autistic and communicates different then he was expecting. Normally, Oscar or Lando was here to help things flow, but now she was going to need to swim on her own.

"Have you been enjoying Monaco?" He asked.

She played with her fingers to help her brain stay present. Something she often did to stim when she didn't want it to be noticeable. "It's cozy when it's not race weekend. I think the race has made it crowded."

He looked a little surprised. "Do you not like crowds? I thought you did since you come to most of the races."

"Seeing them is fine. Being trapped in them is difficult."

"That's a little odd of a perspective, don't you think?" He laughed. "I feel like you either enjoy the crowds or you hate them."

She didn't understand what he meant by that. Didn't she just say what she thought? Why was he asking the same question? "Factually, I think you can enjoy seeing a crowd, like on TV, and also become claustrophobic when in one."

He didn't know how to respond. The staring became awkward for him as he tried to respond. She just waited. Assuming he had now understood her point. Then he came up with an excuse as to why he needed to duck out of the conversation.

Zak asked Oscar about it later. To which the Australian internally face-palmed. Then, he proceeded to explain the unspoken role.

Zak apologized the next day if he made her uncomfortable. She just looked between him and Oscar. Hoping for an answer as to how he could've done that.

It took a while, but they finally got their. Now Zak goes to her if he ever wants an honest opinion on something.

The most recent time actually hurt her. She spent days inside her and Oscar's room. Struggling to eat, sleep, and communicate.

She was lucky that Oscar was around to help her through this. His frustration almost overwhelming his own mind.

Two weeks ago, they had been in Silverstone. It was an amazing race, and she felt happy that she got to share it with him.

She had been making friends with the other WAG's around the paddock. So when Oscar was pulled away, she went to find someone to hang out with until they finished.

She found Kika and Lily in the Williams hospitality. It was warm in the building, so when she sat down with them, she decided to get comfortable and took off her sweatshirt.

Her shirt that day was not the usual baggy t-shirt and jeans. Today's she was wearing a crop-top that showed her stomach, but she felt cute and confident, and Oscar complimented her on it the entire morning. He said she looked good when she's comfortable and that's what matters to him.

Her body was not the ideal body type that meets the standard beauty criteria. Frankly, she didn't care.

She's healthy. She's comfortable. Oscar has said daily that he loves her as she is.

She wasn't expecting the fans in hospitality to ask her anything about it.

When she got up to get water, a few young women approached her. This had happened before, and she assumed they wanted to ask about Oscar or know of they could get a picture with him.

She assumed wrong.

"How come you're not wearing what you normally do?"

"Because I felt comfortable in this today."

"I think the other style suits you better. Don't you think?"

"I don't have a style. This is just comfortable."

"Is this because Oscar likes it better?"

"No, he likes it when I'm comfortable."

She was trying to keep up. All the questions flying at her rapidly. The music was reverberating off the wall. The hospitality staff were cleaning and packing.

Her head started to spin. Her hands flew up to cover her ears. She was going to cry if she didn't get out.

She was thankful the Kika and Lily noticed and got her out of the area. Blocking anyone from speaking to her and ignoring those who tried to stop them.

They ran into Oscar on the way to somewhere quiet. He immediately placed his hands over hers to try and help block out more sound until he could get her to her headphones.

Kika and Lily explained what happened. The females asking her questions were not understanding why she was giving them the same answer. Their intentions were unknown, but it was obvious she looked uncomfortable and cornered in that moment.

So he led her away into his driver room and told her she could lock the door and he'd come get her when it was time to leave. She obliged, turning off the lights to help her senses.

She curled up in the corner and soothed herself until Oscar came back.

Someone had taken a video of the encounter, and people started asking questions about her. Why does she do the things she does? It didn't make any sense to them. It made her frustrated because they made her out to be an alien on her own planet.

Her body couldn't take it anymore. She stayed in her corner with the lights off and shut out the world.

Except for Oscar. He sat in the dark with her. They ate meals on the floor. He helped her bathe in the dark. She felt so lucky to have found someone who understands and cares as much as he does.

His PR team was trying to do something about the video. It wasn't right for it to be posted, and McLaren was doing what they could, but It wasn't enough.

So Oscar took matters into his own hands. He decided to answer all their questions. With her permission, of course.

She cried when she read it. He was happy that she felt safe enough with him to let herself unmask, but he wanted her to be able to unmask anywhere. They were taking a step in the right direction, and they both ate comfort food that night.

Instagram story message because idk how people do SMAU's: "I want to take a minute to address the video that was posted about my girlfriend recently. My girlfriend is Autistic, meaning that things can become overwhelming easily. You might not understand everything she does, but you don't have to. She is her own person and has her own life. What she answers to questions is her truth. If you don't want an honest answer, don't ask the question.

-Oscar

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vhstown · 9 months

Text

miles g morales x you headcanons

— 42!miles x gn!reader (dating)

warnings: fluff, brief mentions of violence, angst if you squint

note: ok i know i didn't write him like a bad boy rizzful cool criminal bf but this is just my interpretation from the 1min of screentime he had 😭 i hope someone likes it? i don't really but it's ok posting anyway, kind of long a lot of ramble

wasn't edited previously but is now!

Miles has never dated anyone before, so naturally, he's never kissed anyone before. In fact, though he's reluctant, he asks his uncle for advice about you (just as a nephew in need, of course.) It's sort of hilarious to see the boy with such a cold and unbothered exterior try to flirt and make a move on you. When he asks you out, he nearly trips over himself trying to block your way, and nearly trips over himself again when you say yes. When you try to kiss, he freezes up, but eventually gets the hang of it. It's surprisingly sweet and careful; warm.

Miles is hesitant to date you — date anyone. It's a casual sort of thing at first; he doesn't want to get too attached. But what draws him to you is the fact that you can make his life feel so normal, so simple and in-the-moment. It doesn't take long for him to realise that this is what he wants.

He does everything in his power to keep his criminal identity a secret. When there's rumours going around about the Prowler, he's quick to shut down the conversation with vague, uninterested answers. He's not scared of many things, but he's scared of the only person he can really be Miles around leaving.

So, the boy tries his absolute best to be good to you. Yes, he misses dates doing God knows what, but he's quick to try and reschedule or show up to your door with gifts, food, anything he thinks might make you happy (despite your annoyance, he's really good at making it up to you.) When dates aren't working, he decides to take you on spontaneous ones, going around Brooklyn and wracking his brain for anything that might interest you or be nice enough for a date. Half of your date is usually spent walking around together, but it's more fun than you think to pass time together like that.

For the time you do manage to spend together, you notice he's very observant (he has to be to survive as the Prowler.) Miles remembers every little detail about you and what you like. Things you told him since he met you are still firm in his memory, even if it was something you said off-handedly or to somebody else. He's always surprising you with little things you mention: an accessory, dessert from the place you wanted to try ages ago, etc.

Miles is very aware of your interests and whenever he passes by related stores, he's always asking you if you want anything. You're the only person in his life other than his family; of course he's going to cherish you.

But the second thing Miles is worried about is his mom. He's very overprotective over his mom, understandably so. She's the only parent he has left and he knows she overworks herself trying to provide for them. He's always trying to help her when he can, doing chores and errands without question and per his uncle's suggestions, but if something was to happen to her, he'd blame himself for it above all. So when he introduces you to her, he's more than uncertain. It's not like you could do anything to her, but he's made it a habit to never fully trust anyone anyway.

That is, until he sees how Rio completely lights up around you. She's so thrilled that Miles has a friend (or whatever Miles told her you were.) Even though she can only talk to you for a few minutes before her shift, she automatically opens up her home to you, telling you that you can help yourself to the kitchen and come over whenever you like. She whispers a couple things in Spanish to Miles that you can't quite catch, and he doesn't care to mention.

But you can definitely guess what she keeps telling him. Whenever he brings you over, he acts aloof, almost awkward trying to follow what his mom says to make you comfortable. The house and Miles' room suddenly becomes eerily spotless whenever you're due to come over, and the cupboards are in complete order. Rio's always asking Miles where you are, and she treats you like you're her second kid. She's very aware that you might be in the future (though Miles keeps denying it.)

You catch glimpses of his uncle sometimes. He doesn't really talk to you, but the man is calm enough. Miles seems to be comfortable around him, but when he finds out, you can make out an amused glint in Aaron's eyes whenever he sees you. Miles doesn't take you to see his uncle; he'd rather you're not aware of the man's ridiculous way of teasing him.

Whenever you come over, you both make it a habit to snack, play videogames, listen to music, whatever you feel like doing. It seems like he's always trying to keep you there. Miles will never admit it, but he misses you a lot. All he really does to show that is pull you into a silent hug and kiss your cheek when he sees you again, asking in the lowest voice what you've been up to.

When you asked Miles about his interests, he tells you the ones he shares with his uncle at first — music, art, etc. But whenever you go into his room, you notice a bunch of empty shelves and hastily shut drawers. Miles never really shares his real interests with anyone (he thinks they're childish more than anything), but when you insist, he bedrudgingly takes out the figures, comics and posters, acting like he put them away ages ago and forgot about them (more 5 minutes before you came over, if it wasn't obvious from the way he was flushing.)

The two of you spend a while putting everything back. You ask him questions about it and he returns them with short answers. When you leave that day, his heart is full, and his jaw hurts from trying to hide his smile as he looks at his shelves filled with superhero figurines and comics. He won't be touching anything now that you've put them in place. He really can be himself around you, though he's still a bit reluctant.

On top of Miles' other "secret" interests, he likes drawing. He keeps a tiny sketchbook where he draws people mainly, and you catch glimpses of it sometimes when he thinks you're not looking. Half of it is ripped out (there drawings of his mom, uncle and comic book superheroes scattered around his room), but the faces that do remain are of his dad, unfinished. There's another drawing he's never finished in there too. It's been constantly erased and redrawn; it was meant to be you. Eventually, that page is ripped out too. You can't find it no matter how hard you look; it's in his jacket.

And at first, the boy was kind of awkward. He didnt want to hurt you; he knows he very well could. He usually let you initiate anything (though he's clingy as hell and was just shooting that feeling down as much as he could.)

When he does get more comfortable around you (especially after he's sure it's not just a fling), he's always kissing your cheek, forehead, your hair; his kisses are surprisingly chaste, sweet, much like your first one. He holds your hand often too, even if you're just sitting next to each other, fingers firmly locked together with the occasional squeeze to let you know he's still there.

But he's no short of a tease too. Miles always likes to say pretty things in Spanish just to get you riled up. Even if you might understand what he's saying, he says it under his breath so you can't catch it. Miles doesn't repeat himself, instead giving you that stupid cocky smirk you've grown to love (and hate.) Sometimes he lifts your chin to make his eyes meet yours, maybe to see you flustered too as he studies your face in silence, poker-faced, not responding to anything you're saying. You think he's being teasing, but he just really doesn't know what to say. You're his, and sometimes he just can't believe it.

What he really loves though is holding you close: his head over your shoulder or your head against his chest (or his against yours, with much pestering) so you can't see the way that he's smiling. As much as he wants to be the cool and distant boyfriend, he's a big softie, absolutely melting with your affection, always quick to return it with his own.

But when you're out, it's a different story. He's not only overprotective of his mom, but of you. It really shows when he walks you home. He keeps his arm firmly around your waist, giving dirty looks to anyone who goes even an inch too close to you. He whipsers "you okay?" and "c'mon" while basically directing you around.

Miles knows these streets better than anyone else, but he's not going to take you through quick back alleys. He'll take you through busy main streets, maybe stop by a bodega to pick something up for you if you're still hungry while he eyes every corner of the store, even go on the subway with you if you're feeling particularly lazy, your back to his chest with an arm around you so you don't fall. He's always muttering about being safe, and his street smarts definitely rub off on you; his advice is sound, almost too experienced for a random kid living in Brooklyn.

However, Miles won't let you find out. No matter how much he's juggling being the Prowler, his family and you, he'll make it work. He can't lose this, no way in hell. Even if he has to lie to you about his seemingly random injuries or ditched date nights, you'll never find out about that purple blur that skids past you when you're outside at odd hours. They're just rumours after all, he tells you.

🕸️💫👾

thank you for reading 😭🙏 i struggled w this one and hobie too but idk i love 42 miles he's just some guy fr .... im thinking of writing a friends to lovers fic w 42 miles but im not sure yet (im just really lazy but lmk if ur interested?) + thank you to @qiuweyballs for the inspo i hate you (endearingly)

if u liked this reblogs are appreciated <3 catch the rest of my atsv headcanons here! love ya

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becca-is-not-well · 9 months

Note

Hi pretty!

So I have a super cute idea that won't let me rest

So basically how do you think chase davenport would react to the reader stealing his clothes

Like pajama pants, one of his flannels, a tee shirt

Id yoyu don't wanna write if you totally don't have to🩷

NAH HE WOULD BE SO FLUSTERED AT FIRST AND THEN BE LIKE "Wait why is this kinda-" LIKE HE'D GO 🤨😲😳🥺😏

Chase Davenport x reader

Warnings: fluffy, a little cheesy, and gets suggestive at the end (im sorry I couldn't help myself I love him sm sobbb) 2nd person (you/yours) also I didn't specify how the clothes fit cause I'm a big girl and I know for a fact Chase's clothes would be tight on me if I even managed to squeeze in lol so it's hopefully as inclusive as possible :)

"Hey, has anyone seen my blue flannel?" Chase asked the living room full of superheros.

"You have, like, a hundred blue flannels. Care to narrow it down at all?" Bree responded with her usual amount of attitude. Chase sent her an unamused look.

"Then have you seen my sweatpants? I'm staying with my girlfriend tonight and I can't find any of my clothes," he says exasperated.

"I bet Oliver stole them. He had a history," Kaz looks away his best friend with an amused smile.

"For the last time, I didn't realize they were your underwear! I wouldn't have touched them with a ten-foot pole if I had realized," Oliver shuddered at the memory while Bree and Chase both rolled their eyes.

"Oh! Skyler, have you seen my blue flannel and/or my sweatpants?" Chase asked the alien as she walked into the room.

"You have about a hundred blue flannels, how am I supposed to know which one you're looking for?" Skyler replied immediately. Bree pointed at Skyler dramatically while looking at her brother.

"See?!" She said triumphantly, happy for the unexpected validation. Chase rolled his eyes so hard, it was a surprise they didn't get stuck looking at his brain.

"And this is why I'm going away for the night," he said with a sarcastic smile before turning around and leaving the room.

After almost a half hour of searching, he still couldn't find his missing clothes. But Chase was nothing if not punctual, so he ended up just throwing some random clothes in his bag and heading out the door to get to your apartment on time.

Soon enough, he was right outside the familiar door that led into a small apartment. The man let out a content sigh as he opened the door and took in the familiar sights and smells of the place, happy to finally get away from his own home and spend the night with his love.

"Honey, I'm home!" Chase called out, only half joking.

A blur of blue and gray suddenly came full speed out of the bedroom, colliding with him in a tight hug. After taking a second to regain his balance, he chuckled and hugged you back just as hard.

"Hi, baby," he said, burying his face in your hair and breathing deeply. It had been a rough week for him, but all the tension in his body left with a simple hug.

"I missed you~" you said in a slightly whiny tone, holding onto Chase even tighter.

"Missed you too, bug," he chuckled at your enthusiasm to see him, warmth and love rising in his chest. No one had ever had a reaction like this to simply seeing him before- and it was definitely a boost in confidence.

After a few more moments in each other's embrace, you both pulled away slightly, smiling at each other. Silently, you met each other's lips for a sweet, slow peck.

"Wait- what are you-" Chase pulled away again, his big brain processing what he had seen you wearing in the split second he had looked down. "Is that my flannel?"

You just nodded with a sweetly oblivious smile, stepping back to show the whole outfit.

"And your pants- and this might be your t-shirt," you told him happily. Chase just stood there in confusion- and a little bit of awe. Sure enough, your entire outfit consisted of his clothes.

"Is- that okay?" You asked after a moment of silence from Chase.

"Uh- yeah! Yeah, of course," he replied, a smile working its way onto his face.

It was cliché, but he decided quickly that seeing his you in his clothes was the best thing that would ever grace his eyes. You just looked so cute standing there, a shy smile on your face as you presented the clothing that used to belong to him. Obviously, though, he thought you looked much better than he ever did in the clothes- he would never dream of asking for them back.

Soon, the innocent adoration turned into something a bit less innocent. A surge of possessiveness and pride swelled in him as he looked you up and down again.

"You look so pretty, I don't know if I want to take my clothes off you or just keep looking," he said, the surge of confidence overtaking him as he stepped closer again.

You let out a giggle as he took your waist in his hands, pulling your body closer.

"I may or may not have a preference," you told him, subconsciously biting your lip.

"Oh really? Why don't you show me which one you want, then?" Chase said with a smile, meeting you for another kiss.

A/N: THANK YOU FOR THE REQUWST YOU HAVE NO IDRA HOW HAPPY I AM

#chase davenport #chase davenport x reader #lab rats #lab rats x reader #romantic #romantic! reader #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #lab rats elite force #fluff #suggestive

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hey-kae · 2 years

Text

Newfound Jealousy

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

Request: read here

Warnings: Language, possessive & jealous Charles, oral sex (male & female receiving), slight hair pulling, edging, unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol, probably poorly proofread.

a/n: i need holy water, that is all… But can we please go back to the Australian GP? Please?

The door slammed shut behind you, making you - and probably half of the hotel floor's residents - jump at the sound as your champagne soaked boyfriend took his anger out on the poor thing.

Not willing to back down, you stormed in in front of him, tossing your purse and phone onto the bed and heading directly for the bathroom until Charles’ firm grip on your wrist interrupted your trajectory.

It was the Australian Grand Prix.

Charles had won with an impressive lead of over 20 seconds so, naturally, you'd think he'd be over the moon about that. Instead, he had chosen to get pissed over a bunch of tweets he had somehow found the time to see throughout the day. Those tweets included words and pictures Charles wasn't really happy about, pictures of you with Daniel Ricciardo's family and even with Danny himself around the paddock before the race and even after it while your boyfriend was busy with his media duties, taking longer than Daniel had since he was the winner.

You and Daniel had history. That was a secret to practically nobody.

Everyone knew about that, what undeniably made walking through the paddock with Charles awkward and attention-attracting, tens of cameras flashing every time you made an appearance with him. Apparently, the fact that you were still friends with Daniel and still treated his family like your own was just as interesting to the public. To you however, it was rather natural.

After all, you and the Australian driver had started out as best friends and went back to that after the break up since the two of you realized the relationship was one of two friends who occasionally had amazing sex, neither of you being romantically in love with the other.

In fact, it was Daniel who set you up with Charles after the break up, taking the chance of the three of you hanging out at an afterparty to leave you alone with the monégasque driver who he had noticed always managed to made you blush with a simple smile.

On the way back from the track, Charles was fuming and you still had no idea why, that was until he tossed you his phone while he was speeding unreasonably, weaving like a maniac between the cars on the highway in a way that sure would've given you a heart attack had it been anyone else driving.

On the screen of the little device you were met with pictures of you and Danny's family and one of you and Daniel himself in which he was laughing and talking to him mother while practically using your shoulder as an arm rest.

The comments and replies varied between sorts of:

i hope they're getting back together!!!

Her relationship with his fam is adorable ngl

Yeah her and dan >>> with leclerc it's just weird imo

Those statements gave you instant flashbacks to when you and Charles were getting harassed for your relationship when you first went public, you getting slut shamed while he got called a home wrecker.

Despite everything, it was unreasonable that Charles was reacting like that to something as insignificant as that, especially since he was perfectly fine with your relation to the Ricciardos and he was fully aware that whatever people say on the internet was in no way gonna affect your lives.

However, as you swiped through the screenshots on his phone, Charles' weird behavior from the whole day suddenly made sense. It seemed like he had been seeing and hearing comments like these since before the race, what would explain the agressive kiss he gave you when you went to wish him luck in his garage, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as his hand slipped into your back pocket, all while cameras were filming from the entrance of the garage, trying to capture good shots of the car. Then, the other similar kiss he gave you as soon as he saw you after the race, before the fight had started. It was also unusual, the way his hand was always in yours or his arm around you shoulders or his lips pecking your cheek or forehead, PDA never having been his thing as far as you knew. He had even told an interviewer who approached him as the two of you were leaving that "I just want to enjoy the win with my girlfriend right now, sorry." declining the middle aged man and his camera crew of an interview.

Therefore, it was safe to assume that Charles wasn't really okay with how close you were with Danny and his family at the moment, especially since he was furiously looking at you, his lips pursed as he held you in place, preventing you from moving away from him.

"Charles, you just won a race, for fuck's sake. You're really ruining that over some stupid tweets?" You tried calming him down, but all was in vain.

"You're telling me you are okay with what you read?" He snapped.

"What? No, of course not. What i am saying is that you shouldn't ruin your happiness from the win over something so... insignificant!" You waved your free hand exaggeratedly, stressing your point, only to receive an unexpected chuckle from Charles.

"Don't get me started on that, amore." He huffed, "You didn't even watch the podium because you were still with Grace."

"I did watch the podium and i was so happy for-"

"Yeah from the fucking back!" His voice rose, "From the back comme si t'as honte d'être ma copine." ...like you're ashamed to be my girlfriend. He regained his composure but spitted the words with so much anger.

"Charles, what has gotten into you?! I'm yours, have been for months now and i'm fucking proud to be! And I was so happy for you but didn't want to squeeze past all the crowd." You told the truth.

You were in fact with Daniel's mother. You had watched the race with her, what caused you to arrive to the podium celebration when it was already far too crowded.

"Show me, then." Charles pulled you to his chest. "Fait bon usage de cette bouche." Put that mouth to good use. "How about that?" His hands were now firm on your waist, pulling you in until there wasn't any space for even thin air between the two of you.

You didn't even need to think it through. Your hands slid down his Ferrari polo, all the way to the hem, feeling the contrast between the plain spots of fabric and the glossy sponsor logos before pulling it over his head, knocking off the red cap in the process. Your lips were immediately on his neck, tasting a slight note of champagne still on his skin as you pushed him back onto the mattress and climbed on top of him, littering open mouthed kisses down his body, on his collarbones then his chest and abs until you reached the top of his pants.

You momentarily stopped and looked up at him, finding him already staring at you with an agape mouth as he supported himself on his elbows so he could have a nice view of you.

"Hurry up." He taunted, his fingers getting lost in your hair as he sat up on the edge of the bed, pushing you down a bit so you were kneeling in front of him.

You unbuttoned and unzipped the pants before hooking your hand onto their hem, taking them off along with his boxers, leaving you facing his hard cock as he intently watched.

"Je sais pas tu attends quoi, amore. Ouvre." I don't know what you're waiting for, my love. Open. He tapped his tip on your lips when he thought you were taking too long to do anything, waiting for you to open up your mouth for him, so you did.

You wrapped your lips around him, deciding it was best that you avoid riling him up more for now.

However, you still kept your movements slow, knowing it would only be a matter of seconds before he would take matters onto his own hands. You twirled your tongue along his tip, allowing him to slide further into your mouth until he was almost touching the back of your throat but not further than that, moving your head back up then.

It was less than a minute before Charles objected.

"God, you're torturing me today. I know you can take it all so why won't you?" He bucked his hips up, his hand wrapping around your hair to hold your head in place as he pushed himself further down your throat, grunting as he did so, the sight of you gagging on his cock with your eyes teary doing an amazing job at reminding him that he was the one you chose.

Deep down, you knew that this was the reaction you'd get from him when you were practically teasing him by not fully taking him into your mouth.

His head dropped back when you hollowed your cheeks around him, the sounds he was making being enough for you to moan yourself, the vibrations of you doing so driving him mad.

"Ah, putain. Tu aime ça beaucoup, il me semble." Oh, fuck. You love this a lot, it seems. He staggered, stopping to moan again, "Tu aime m'avoir dans ta bouche, n'est-ce pas?" You love having me in your mouth, don’t you? He got you to look at him using the hand that was tangled into your hair, pulling your head back until your eyes met his.

Your mouth still full of him, the sight driving him insane, you nodded in response and groaned before carrying on.

"Good." Charles exhaled and went back to guiding your movements while you bobbed your head up and down, listening to your boyfriend's moans with satisfaction as they became more frequent, eventually turning to whimpers as he felt his release nearing.

His hold on your hair tightened as his head fell back, his eyes screwing shut once he felt himself just on the edge of letting go.

"Fuck." He groaned and whimpered your name breathlessly seconds before you felt him cum in you mouth, fisting the sheets by his side with his free hand.

Swallowing, you grabbed onto his thigh for leverage and got up, watching as Charles caught his breath and taking advantage of that time to get rid of your own shirt and pants, leaving only your underwear on since you knew Charles loved taking care of that.

Seeing that you were now practically naked, Charles patted the bed and gestured for you to lay down, the look on his face nowhere near innocent.

The second you were next to him on the mattress, he spread your legs apart and held them in that position with his body. His eyes locked with yours, his hand trailing up your thigh torturously slow as he seemed to be captivated by the feeling of the goosebumps rising on your skin under his touch. He loved it so much when you were so desperate to have his hands on you and even more when you would try to hide that from him only for your body to betray you.

He kept up those movements until he felt the material of you panties under his fingertips, right on your hips so he slipped his hands under it, caressing your soft skin at a soft pace that had you squirming in anticipation.

However, his anger was still taking ahold of his thoughts and actions, the words he had read flashing in the back of his mind every few minutes, making him want to tease you this time, to hear you whine and whimper his name and desperately ask for more, just as you were already starting to do.

"Charles, please."

"Already, baby?" He chuckled, moving his hand back down and leaning down to kiss you before you could complain. His lips on yours were distracting enough for now, the needy pace taking your mind off his ghost touch for now, leaving you to focus on the way his tongue was fighting its way into your mouth while your breathing turned heavy and your body arched into his, subconsciously begging him to give you anything. Instead, he moaned into the kiss, turning you on even more and not giving you any relief for now.

You moved your hands, running them up his arms until they wrapped around his back, your nails digging into the skin when he ground his hips against yours, making just enough friction to tease you before pulling away to see your reaction, your eyes basically already pleading him.

Back to his kneeling position now, he traced his fingers down the inside of your thigh, passing them briefly on your clothed crotch, listening to your heavy breathing as he did so.

"Baby..." you groaned, slightly annoyed with him now.

"Uh-uh." He shook his head no, running his finger on the lower elastic of your panties, barely grazing your pussy through the fabric with an extremely soft, barely-there shaky touch.

"Why are you doing this, Charles?" You asked with genuine curiosity.

He shrugged, not sparing you even a glance, "Satisfaction personnelle." Personal satisfaction.

His eyes were glued onto the movements of his fingers, only looking away to watch how you were clutching the bedsheets whenever he got a bit too close to where you needed him.

"I did nothing wrong and you know it. Fucking hell, i never even loved him romantically and-" your breath caught when he moved a finger to run along your slit, trying to shut you up while still lost in his trance, but you continued, "- here you are acting like a possessive asshole."

"Why did you stay with him for so long then?" Charles asked, both his hands now on your thighs, his eyes full of lust as they raked over your body.

You didn't want to answer that. If anything, the reply would anger him more and you weren't gonna lie to him. You pursed your lips and looked away, only for Charles to grab your face and get you to face him again.

"Tell me, amore."

"The sex... it was good." You blurted out.

Charles' reaction wasn't what you expected. He let out a small laugh while he tugged on your panties.

"Alright. Then, i'll have to make sure you forget about fucking anyone but me by the end of this."

Charles was actually surprised at himself, at how jealous he was getting over you, never having discovered this side of his personality in previous relationships.

But before he knew it, he had thrown your panties to the floor and was already sucking on your clit, holding your thighs apart and looking up at you as your back arched and you bit onto your lip, trying to contain your moans.

You didn't know what he was planning. It didn't even register, how fast he had gotten rid of your underwear but you sure felt it, the way he seemed to get lost in what he was doing and the reactions he was getting out of you, his tongue moving between your folds like he wasn't planning to stop anytime soon.

Charles, when eating you out, always allowed your body to guide him and this was no exception.

He started off with small kitten licks onto your clit, his fingers digging into your thighs as he attempted to still them into their position by his sides. He kept that up until he felt your hand grip onto his shoulder while you started squirming at his teasing. Only then, he wrapped his lips around the sensitive nub, earning himself a throaty moan from you, your head digging back into the pillow while he resisted the urge to smirk.

"Fuck, Charles." You moaned and Charles felt you move your hand from his shoulder to his hair, slightly pulling on it instinctively as the pleasure he was giving you bubbled in the pit of your stomach.

He maintained that, keeping a steady pace until your breaths turned into low whimpers so he pushed his tongue into you, feeling your walls immediately tighten around it before he started simultaneously toying with your clit, knowing that would have you arching your back and get you closer to your orgasm.

Sure enough, he felt you bucking your hips off the bed, pushing yourself against his mouth while you forced your head off the mattress to watch the way he was so captivated by pleasing you, what lead to a string of moans to slip past your lips, causing him to groan against your entrance himself, the feeling of him doing so making you subconsciously push yourself up the bed, only to be held in your spot by his strong arms.

"Charles, oh my god." Your hold on his locks tightened as you felt yourself seconds away from your orgasm.

However, it felt like chasing a high but getting a wave of withdrawal instead.

Charles moved away, kissing the inside of your thigh now, ruining your orgasm and leaving your pussy pulsating and your legs shaking while you panted heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you pushed yourself off the bed, looking down at him questioningly, his eyes, still having hints of anger, immediately staring back at you while he continued to litter kisses on your skin.

The look he gave you almost made you shiver, his expression telling you not to question him further, the bite he delivered onto your thigh sealing the deal and making you drop back onto the mattress.

The second you did, you felt his tongue back between your folds, this time flat against your clit, making you jolt and attempt to close your legs, only for his hands to force them open wider.

That is when you knew you were in for a long night, that he would probably want to take out his anger like this.

Charles rarely was like this during sex, only when he was going out of his way to prove a point and tonight, he was doing just that.

"Charles-" you shakily whimpered, his name slowly becoming the only word on your mind as he easily pushed two fingers inside you because of how wet you were. The room filled with the sounds of his tongue lapping at your arousal and his fingers being relentlessly thrusted into you in a rushed pace, the soft whimpers that you were slowly losing control over perfectly complementing those sounds while Charles blissfully ate you like he was craving it.

"Please, Charles. Let me cum." You whined when you felt the high start to build up again but Charles seemed like he couldn't even hear you, too drawn into tasting you to acknowledge anything else.

To him, the sounds you were making were mostly white noise, his focus completely on the movements of his fingers and tongue, the words spilling out of your mouth not registering unless they were alarming as he felt you squeeze at his digits, your body practically at his mercy, begging him for anything he was willing to give.

He would only let you cum once he's had enough and he was just getting started.

He listened with great satisfaction as you repeated his name over and over, with every movement of his fingers inside you until your voice started breaking, turning back to whimpers just as your thighs tensed under his clutch. That's when he pulled away and watched you writhing on the bed, not a word leaving his mouth as he did so.

His eyes never left your figure until you stilled on the white duvet, your breathing heavy and your eyes forcefully shut closed for a few seconds that had caused worry to start forming in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?" You startled him just as he was gonna ask if you were okay.

"Je t'ai dis, satisfaction personnelle." I told you, personal satisfaction. He watched as you wrapped your arms around your stomach, only for him to grab your hands in his and pin them above your head as his lips met yours again just when he lowered his body onto yours, his other hand slipping behind your back, undoing your bra and quickly getting rid of that last barrier.

You tried to focus on kissing him, telling yourself that it was enough for now but the pulsing of your pussy never ceased, needing a release so desperately and needing to feel Charles inside you even more.

"Please, Charles." You said against his lips but he was completely unfazed by your words. Instead, he reached between the two of you, lightly pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers, doing nothing but making you feel more desperate for him to stop teasing you. However, that was all he gave you for now, his lips sloppy against yours, his hand toying with your nipple while both of your arms were still pinned away by his free one.

A slight layer of sweat was starting to form against your skin while Charles bit on your lower lip, causing to groan just as he pinched your nipple again before he trailed his hand lower, his light touch raising goosebumps all on your skin in its wake as his fingers traced a line down to your crotch, stopping there and teasingly caressing your skin.

He broke the kiss and locked eyes with your hazy ones, the "please" you were endlessly repeating to him getting ignored for a few seconds before his fingers finally found your clit, forcing a straggled breath out of you that Charles took pleasure in hearing.

The speed in which he was moving his hand was overwhelming. You were speechless and soundless, just biting onto your lip, your eyes squeezed shut as Charles took control over you thoughts and body. But then, he would suddenly slow down but push his fingers harder against the sensitive bud as he relentlessly moved them in circles, just like he know you loved and before he knew it, your hips were rolling onto his hand, his name escaping your lips in small whines.

You were practically seeing stars because of how hard your eyes were shut, the only thought in your head is wondering if you'd get to cum this time but even the thought was interrupted by Charles regaining the previous fast pace, circling his fingers messily around your clit.

By now, you were already desperate for any relief so you thought you could maybe hide it from Charles when your orgasm neared.

You kept that in mind, even as you lost yourself in his touch as he ever-so-lightly tapped on your clit now, the moans sounding like heavy, squeaky breaths as they forced themselves past your closed your lips. Before you knew it, your walls were contracting, the pleasure building up with every circle Charles drew between your folds. The heels of you feet dug into the bed as you instinctively pushed yourself off the bed. Biting onto your lip wasn't even enough anymore, your hands, now free of Charles' hold clutched onto his back, your nails clawing at his skin in a way that would've concerned you for him any other time.

With that, the attempt to hide the orgasm from him was deemed a failure. He pulled his hands away from your pussy and moved them to roll both nipples between his fingers while your back arched off the bed and you cursed him out.

"Fucking hell, Charles." You yelped as he pinched the sensitive hardened nubs, "I hate you."

"Sure, you do." He replied, watching how there was a layer of sweat on your forehead, glistening under the fluorescent light of the hotel bedroom.

Seeing that you had already recovered lead him to push two fingers into your clenched pussy, feeling how tight your walls were squeezed immediately. Meanwhile, you clutched the pillow by your side like your life depended on it, the sensitivity really getting to you now, the look on Charles' face not making you feel any better at the moment.

That thought lost its place in your mind as he pushed his fingers further in and started moving them in a beckoning motion, his fingertips discovering your deepest, most sensitive spots with burning urgency before he pulled the two digits out and went back in with three, his eyes attentively watching that as if he was mesmerized by the way his fingers were repeatedly disappearing inside you.

In return, you watched him in fascination, your eyes glossy as they stayed glued on his face and his parted lips as he watched his fingers fuck you.

"Merde..." you heard him exhale, blinking himself out of the trance and picking up speed, adding to your pleasure by doing so.

He was getting desperate to be inside you, to feel your warmth around him, to have you squeezing his cock while he pushed himself as deep inside you as possible. In fact, he had started fantasizing about that even as he had his fingers pushing repeatedly into you, rubbing your sensitive spot in a way that was making your whole body shudder. His daydream didn't last long since he felt your thighs close on his hand, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"I know you can take it, baby." He said and he forced you legs back apart, his anger slowly dissolving now.

"Charles - fuck - please. Please, baby." He didn't reply to that, however. He just slowed down his movements, feeling that you were close, making your vision cloud with tears, your hand wrapping around his wrist, desperately trying to keep him going but he pulled his fingers out and looked up at you, shaking against the plush mattress.

Your teary eyes instantly worried him, snapping him out of the trance that had taken over him for the last hour, making him wonder why he was so angry with you.

"Shit, are you okay?" He grabbed both your hands and helped you into a sitting position before going to wipe a tear that had rolled down your cheek.

You nodded, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your forearm.

"Can't anymore, though." Your words were breathy and your voice hoarse.

Charles wrapped you in a hug, his hand in your hair as he kept whispering that he was sorry.

"Je suis désolé, bébé." I’m sorry, baby. He rocked you, giving you a kiss on the head.

"It's okay, stop apologizing." You hugged him back, "I don't mind doing things like that with you but i do mind it when you let dumb words get to you that much." You tilted up your head and kissed along his jaw.

"I'm sorry, you're right." His hand was now tracing small, soothing patterns onto your back while you snuggled closer into him, the smell of champagne still on his skin, reminding you of his victory.

"You really ruined a win for nothing... I never knew you were the jealous type, anyway."

"It's not ruined and i didn't know either. You just bring out new sides of me." He lifted up your head and kissed you passionately and very differently from the way he had been doing today.

The constant ache of need that you were feeling was still strong and you still needed him to do something about it so if relieved you when he pushed you back so you were laying down again, his body lodged between your legs, his hard cock poking you.

"How about i make it up to you, amore? Ça pourra être notre petite célébration aussi." It can also be our little celebration. He thankful suggested and you instinctively pulled him down closer.

"Please." You groaned.

That was all it took for him to wrap his hand around his cock and guide it to your entrance, slowly pushing into you, the both of you gasping with every extra inch that slipped in until he was bottoming out inside you, his tip poking at your g-spot with enough force that it was already pleasurable. He allowed you to adjust for a second before he pulled out and back in with greater ease now since your wetness was now coating his cock.

"Putain, tu te sent formidable autour de moi, bébé." Fuck, you feel so good around me, baby. He moaned, your walls already tight around him due to the sensitivity you were experiencing.

You watched his pleasure-hooded eyes as they glistened and his pink parted lips just as he rolled back into you with increased intensity. Your arms were wrapped around him, roaming around his back while he fucked you.

Soon enough, he noticed the way you were staring at him with fascination, causing him to give you a drunken smile midst the pleasure before lowering his face to peck your lips.

"Je t'aime. Beaucoup." I love you. A lot. He practically groaned.

The only word on your mind was now his name. He was fucking out every last thought you had but somehow, you still managed to mumble the words back to him, even when you felt the burning sensation nearing.

"Je t'aime aussi." I love you too. You said the words and bit down on your lip, feeling yourself just on the edge.

"Let it all go, amore." Charles quickly caught on and picked up his pace to get you there quicker.

You nodded and dug your head back, letting out a high pitched moan as your body got the release it had been anticipating for far too long now, whimpering out Charles' name repeatedly while he fucked you through the orgasm, only stopping once you were riding down the high.

His concerned eyes scanned your face, smiling at you through his mind-altering arousal once you met his eyes.

"Give me one more. Can you do that?"

You nodded quickly, actually needing a second release since one didn't feel enough after all that edging.

Charles' lips found yours and he started moving again, moaning into the kiss as he snapped his hips to meet yours in a mellow pace, the both of you getting tired by now, especially after such a long day.

His hands were now on both sides of your body, providing him with bigger support so he could move faster, his eyes closing at the feeling while you wrapped one of your legs around his, pushing his closer and encouraging him to go deeper.

"Fuck - so good." He moaned, feeling himself inch closer to his orgasm.

He wanted you to finish on his cock again so he moved a hand down your body and starter rubbing at your clit, speeding up the build up of pleasure you were feeling.

"Ah, Charles." You moaned and subconsciously pushed your hips towards his as your head snapped back and he leaned down, taking the opportunity to kiss the soft skin of your neck, trying to get himself to last a little longer.

"J'peux plus." I can’t anymore. He groaned, warning you of his release.

You wanted to tell him that you too were gonna orgasm but the words got stuck in your throat as you came again, your body shaking just when Charles came inside you and collapsed on top of your body, his face in your neck as he breathed heavily and cussed into your ear.

You waited for his breathing to become steady again before you spoke.

"Congratulations on the win, amore." You knew it was silly congratulate him now but that encouraged you to say it even more.

You heard him chuckle against your skin, "Thank you, bébé."

He then pulled out and flipped you both around so you were laying in top of him, right on his chest where you could hear his heart still racing while he combed through your hair with his fingers, allowing silence to reign briefly in the room.

"Can we just sleep like this? Je suis épuisé." I'm exhausted. He complained and hugged you, knowing that wasn't exactly possible.

"Ugh, how about no? You're still covered im champagne and you made me sweat a bit too much for comfort." You reminded him.

"Yes, sorry again." He kissed your forehead.

"Stop apologizing, Charles." You grabbed his hand, "We're definitely taking a hot shower though."

With that, you lifted yourself off him and headed for the bathroom, hearing annoyed groaning coming from Charles as you adjusted the water, as if you wouldn't have to drag him out from under the hot stream like always.

#charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc oneshots #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 oneshots #f1 x you #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 one shot #f1 imagine

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jamisonwritestf2trash · 8 months

Note

How good are the ft2 mercs at baking and cooking respectively

TF2 Mercs Cooking And Baking Skills!

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Oh boy, you've asked a guy who loves to cook a bake, prepare for a ramble.

Moot appreciation: Thank you for your asks! I've had fun with the prompts you've sent it. Also, I love your blog!

Also, oops, a little Spy angst fell in, who would have guessed.

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Demo- I'm gonna go out on a limb and say most people think he can't cook. Wrong! He can cook. Just uh, unique dishes. This man has made haggis for the other mercs, Scout whole heartedly thought Demo was trying to kill them. (Little off topic but, did you guys know deep-fried Mars bars are a Scottish thing)? But in general he can cook, and cook well, it just depends on if what he's cooking is something your willing to try.

I don't think this man can bake, but that won't stop him from trying! He tries to learn, but always gets frustrated when things don't work. Like the cupcakes have been in the oven for well over two hours and are still not cooked? This man is pissed. But what he lacks in an ability to bake, he makes up for by being amazing at decorating cakes and cupcakes somehow? Like he can't bake a cupcake to save his life, but you bet your ass he can turn it into one of the prettiest things with a bag of frosting and sprinkles.

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Engie- This man is so good at cooking its not even funny. Like the he cooks for everyone one night and everyone begs him to cook at least once a month. Sure, is it the healthiest food? Not really. But it is good food! And for the mercs that's all they really care about some days.

I'm gonna be honest, he'd be a really good baker, but has never had any desire to. Never felt the need to. He'd rather just buy whatever he wants or needs. He can, however be convinced to bake, but even then he's indifferent to it. He thinks it's a fine enough hobby but would never find enthralled with it. Is always very proud of his work in either cooking or baking though!

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Heavy- He can cook! And really likes to do it too. He loves making traditional Russian food. Loves being able to share his culture through something so simple. Likes making anything really. Finds cooking to be relaxing. As long as he can be left alone while doing so.

He can bake too, he just choses not to. It's very precise, one wrong measurement and it's all going to hell. He'd love to bake, but at the end of the day I think it would stress him out more than it would calm him down, or more than it would be worth it for the final product.

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Medic- This is such a toss up for me. I want to say he can cook, and cook well. But the other part of me thinks that he'd be way too giddy to use cooking the team dinner to run a test or two. (What am I talking about he put fertility hormones in someone's rations, he'd take any chance to do it (lovingly)! To the other mercs). I guess I'll say he can cook, but be weary of what he's feeding you at any given time. Also I think if he's not in a testing mood he gets all happy at the idea of cooking traditional food as well.

Due to the fact that, may or may not be up to no good when cooking! The mercs are not super keen on letting him into the kitchen. But if Medic manages to convince (threaten) them into trusting him enough to bake, he's insanely good at it! Baking is a science, and he's incredibly good at getting measurements to be perfect. Plus even if he's not using baking or cooking as an excuse to run some tests on his teammates, it's still an experiment in it's own right. So he genuinely enjoys baking and cooking.

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Scout- You really think his mom would let him leave the house without knowing to cook? Sure, he's probably his mom's favorite, and the youngest child, so you'd think he'd be spoiled, but nope! His mom taught him from a young age the importance of having cooking as a skill, and now he loves it. He cooks when he's homesick, it reminds him of his mom, he looks at it as a connection with one another.

Same thing with baking, but I think he likes baking a bit more than cooking due to the presence of a shit ton of sugar. You'd also think this man would be chill in the kitchen. Absolutely not. He hates having other people in the kitchen when he's busy. He finds them to be distracting. Also, he's super cautious when people ask to try what he's baking specifically. He doesn't want someone to get E. Coli, because of the raw flour in the raw cookie dough. All in all, though, when he's alone (or with Pyro if they decide to join Scout). Then he's genuinely enjoying both baking and cooking.

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Sniper- Mr. Runs off instant ramen and fairy bread. Has the basic skills. He could make rice, grilled cheese, and fried eggs if need be. But for the most part, he can't cook. He has a stove in his van, and it has never been used other than to boil water. He could learn how to cook if he was really persuaded by a certain team member, but it would take a lot, and it would take a long time to learn how to cook a decent meal.

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Spy- Can cook, he has before. It was a life skill just like any other. I got pretty good at it. He can still make decently elaborate dishes, but he's not a fan of it. He doesn't really like cooking. He never had anyone to share his food with. He always wanted someone to share food with, someone to cook with. Was always too scared for said person to actually stick around, said person couldn't stick around.

He's never tried to bake, and I don't think he'd enjoy it. He'd complain about how messy it is. He'd be fine with the having to be careful and precise part. Hell He'd even be good at decorating and just baking in general. But he just wouldn't like doing it.

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Soldier- This man can't so much as cook as he can grill. It's super weird, he'll make the most normal american food and it's like really good? Like he'll make steaks, hamburgers, and hot dogs for a 4th of July party and it's the best shit you've ever had. Ask this man to fry an egg and all hell breaks loose. He is only allowed to man the grill from now on.

Do not ask this man to bake, please, please don't. He cooks with cartoon logic. The recipe calls for three eggs? He drops in three fully-shelled eggs. A stick of butter? The wrapper is still on. And the scariest part is whatever he's baking always comes out looking, edible? Cartoonish? Like straight up looks like someone drew it into existence. For the sake of everyone's mental health, they don't let Soldier bake anymore.

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Pyro- Teach them how to flambé and they're going to have the best time of their lives. They aren't horrible at cooking but aren't a master chef either. They have tried to use their flamethrower to cook on multiple occasions, but they have been banned from being in the kitchen alone due to "inciting panic." Whatever that means. They mainly will cook with Engie, as he's the most patient when it comes to Pyro's "help." (Standing menacingly until they can be trusted to do something. They do it with love, though)!

Speaking of flambé! They love to try and convince the other mercs to let them make bananas Foster, and when they eventually wear the other mercs down and are allowed to try it, they do well! It was a one-time thing, they all got too scared to let them do it again. Now they spend a lot of time helping Scout while he bakes. Overall, they can cook and bake, but should only be allowed to under supervision.

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I hope you like this! Sorry it took me so long to write I've been exhausted all week. But it was fun to write :)

New fic tomorrow, someone asked about the mercs at Barbie, which is going to be so fun!

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress headcanons #tf2 headcanons #tf2 hcs #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro

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mistywaves98 · 1 year

Text

✧･ﾟ:* ->Yandere! Al Haitham x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->Week (part) 2 of my 400 followers special! I forced myself to finish this with like 0 motivation so I apologize in advance for anything that seems a little odd

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: Non con turned dub con, y'all are implied to be friends, implied belly bulge, gets kinda soft ngl, yandere themes, dark themes, NSFW thoughts, I think that's it!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

✧･ﾟ:* Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

He saw you around the akademiya from time to time, from what he could make out, you were rather lonely, not really mingling with everyone else. He couldn't help but pity your attempts at socialising, often getting ignored when trying to interact with anyone, but he was sure you'd manage someday.

It was surprising when you came up to him one day and shyly asked if it was okay to sit with him, especially since there were other empty benches right next to him, but he still nodded in silent approval, wondering if perhaps you were hoping to try befriending someone again and in all honesty, he just wanted to read his book, but he assumed you would probably give up after a few minutes so he let it slide.

His suspicions were proven correct when you tried to start a conversation, however, it seemed you caught on to the fact that he wasn't really interested in talking so you quickly added that it wasn't necessary for him to speak if he didn't want to.

Al Haitham didn't really think of you to be a chatterbox but people can really shock you sometimes, don't they? You rambled on and on and he was surprised to find himself listening more than he thought he would. When you wrapped your little rant up and bid a him a sweet good bye, Al Haitham found a small part of him hoping you would come back again.

As the days turned into nights and the nights turned into days eventually a few weeks had passed since that first 'meeting' and you had grown much closer to him since day one, you've also had a chance to come over to his residence and even met his roommate.

It had become a daily thing for you two to hang out now and Al Haitham had grown to look forward to your chattering, your voice was so lovely and soothing. Occasionally, he would steal glances at you from behind his book, taking in your happy expression, the way your hair seemed to frame your face perfectly whenever there was a breeze, sometimes trailing his eyes a little lower to admire the way your clothes hugged your figure perfectly...and those sweet tits, they look so soft...he wanted to squeeze them so bad....hm, can you repeat that? He also can't deny the fact he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous when you rambled or even just spoke to anyone else that wasn't him, guy or girl.

He hid those feelings well though, when it seemed he was just focused on reading his book, he was, in reality, seething silently at how well you were getting along with his room mate.

No matter how much he tried to deny it, he couldn't. You were on his mind 24/7. Not to mention how every time he saw you, he resisted the urge to pin you down and take what he really wanted. It was even starting to affect his work, everytime he picked up a piece of paper, he felt as if he was seeing your name written all over it, every face seemed to resemble yours and he swore he saw you walk by from the corner of his eye.

You also noticed he'd become more clingy than usual, insisting that he accompany you to things you'd have never thought he would be interested in. To be honest though, he really didn't care about where you were going, he just wanted to make sure no one tried anything on you.

It gradually became kind of suffocating, you needed some space and you were hesitant to bring it up at first but all you got was a simple nod of acknowledgement, much to your relief. However, whenever you did go out without him, Al Haitham made it clear that you were to come back to his abode before going to your own. Upon arriving, he'd be all over you, hand holding your face tightly as he checked for, what he claimed, 'bruises' (he was actually looking for signs of you hooking up with anyone).

Although it was better than having him follow you around, which he still did at times, you still felt as if you had no privacy. Like if something or someone was always watching and listening to you as you went about your daily life. It made you paranoid. You became anxious and jittery, jumping at the slightest things.

Everytime you were around him you felt uneasy, as if his eyes were always on you, even if he appeared to be busy with other things.

Al Haitham, on the other hand, was secretly smiling at the way you were slowly withdrawing yourself from others, whether you were aware or not, it was only a matter of time before he had you where he wanted you.

When a fellow classmate invited you to see a performance in the Grand Bazaar, he urged you to go (even if it meant you'd have to be with someone else), it would help you relax your nerves after all and relieve some tension. You decided to take his advice with a small smile that twitched slightly when he reminded you to make sure and pay him a visit first before heading home.

While you were gone he managed to get a very bewildered and confused Kaveh out of the house for a while. After tidying up a bit he decided to sit down and wait.

Al Haitham's head snapped towards the door as soon as he heard it creak open, revealing your slightly disheveled form. He was all over you in an instant and his eyes narrowed as he inspected your neck, fingers lightly tracing purple and red marks that could only be described as lovebites.

"What were you doing there?" his voice was low and dangerous as you nervously responded with,"nothing," "Don't lie to me" he grabbed your jaw with one hand, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. Possessiveness and anger swirled around in them as his glare never faltered. "I-it was just a simple hook up! We didn't even do more than a little making out... but besides, why would that be a problem?!"

"Because. You. Are. Mine."

With that, his lips met yours in a rough kiss. Your hands flew to his shoulders, trying to push him away, but you were too weak. Instead, he pinned you against the door with his body as his tongue pried your mouth open.

The hand holding your jaw travelled down to close itself around your throat as the other cupped your clothed breast, giving an experimental squeeze before brushing his hand over your nipple, feeling it harden through the thin fabric. "No bra? Are you sure you did 'nothing'? Dirty whore."

His hand quickly left your chest area to part your legs that were practically glued together at that point. Two fingers rubbed your pantie-covered pussy, making you whimper and try to close them, but the tightening grip around your throat made you stop. After collecting enough of your slick on his fingers, Al Haitham brought them up to your eye level.

"Look at how wet you are, just from a little make out session, I doubt you would've wanted to stop here, or do you?" Tears formed in your eyes from the embarrassment as you lightly shook your head. "I thought so." Those same fingers were shoved into your mouth as the skirt you were wearing was hiked up to your stomach, revealing a pair of pretty green panties with a leaf pattern covering it,"This was my favourite pair, a shame I'll have to do this." Your eyes went wide as the sound of fabric ripping met your ears.

"Do you think you need to be prepped? Or are you too eager to have a man's cock inside you?" Your mind was filled with fear as you heard him unbuckling his belt. "W-wait, please..." "Please what? I'm sure you can take it, right?"

Tears fell from your eyes as you felt him push it in once he was lined up with your hole. Even though he eased it in slowly, the burn was painful, your nails dug into his muscular biceps as you squeezed your eyes shut. Al Haitham's hand came up to wipe away the tears as he bottomed out inside of you.

Your moans were occasionally interrupted by uncontrollable hiccuping from crying as he began thrusting. His thrusts were as deep as they were gentle and you could see the tip of his cock kiss your cervix everytime. He was so big and you knew there would be a bulge in your stomach if you dared to look down, which you didn't.

You hated how you were getting closer and closer to orgasming, you hated how you felt yourself clench around him even tighter as he praised but at the same time degraded you,"Look at you, taking my cock so well like the slutty bitch you are—fuck, you're so tight, are you seriously getting off on being fucked like this by your friend?"

Eventually you came undone with a cry of ecstasy, your legs spasming and mouth ajar, vision gone white for a moment. Al Haitham didn't stop though. "Please stop, 'm still sensitive—n'more..." "You really thought we're done? You must be dumber than I imagined. I haven't had my pleasure yet and we aren't going to be finished until then."

#✧･ﾟ:* meena's memorable moments! ✧･ﾟ:*#smut #x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #yandere #genshin impact x reader smut #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader smut

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circusmania · 5 months

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Can you please do tusedere Jax that is in denial that he loves the reader. The reader is a girl that has a crush on him but nobody really knows .Shes very happy ,hyper and treats him like a bunny but changes emotions fast. Jax is extra mean to her at first because he is confused of his emotions and he gets flustered by her. (she constantly calls him cute) He always tries to play it cool but it doesnt always work. Finally Jax realizes he likes her and "confesses" (he just wrote " your not that bad I guess. Ill be at the s;ide at 3 if your not bus" on a piece of paper and slid it under her door ) and then they date after the reader says they love him.

Please change the story as much as you want! This was just to show how they act . TYSM for reading! :'D

Jax x gn!Reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 I changed the fem!reader to a gn!reader, since no pronouns are mentioned here. ♡ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟

Jax was always known as "your classic troublemaker". He always had to have some snarky remark to throw right back at you. However, the cocky persona that he had built quickly started to fall apart when You joined the troop. There wasn't anything special about You, either. Or perhaps, there was something unique about You. Your overly cheerful personality. It sickened him. What could you find so happy in this hellhole? He hated how You always found a way to pull Pomni back up on her feet after a prank he pulled. He hated how You and Ragatha had managed to form such a close bond together. He hated how you'd always comfort Gangle after her mask broke. He hated how You care for that crazy old chess piece, Kinger. He hated how You made even Zooble smile. But most of all, he hated how You made him feel. He has been stuck in this digital circus for so long, he thought he was having a heart attack when You first talked to him. The ping in his chest was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. And he wasn't that welcoming to it, either.

He tried his best to make You hate him. He pulled pranks on You, made jokes about You, believe me, he's tried everything under the sun to make You hate him. In the end, he just started to avoid You entirely, but somehow, he always wound up right back to You. Was Caine playing a joke on him? You had noticed the change in Jax, who wouldn't? Thinking he had just given up on trying to play his pranks on you, You approached him. "What's wrong, Jax? Where is your usual cocky self?" He ignored you. Which was really weird of him, but did You give up? No. You kept pestering him, kept trying to talk to him, trying to see what would make him tic. Zooble found it funny and teased him a lot because of it. You had decided to take it a step further and just started outright flirting with him. Calling him "cute" and stuff. When Jax first heard this, he quickly turned his head away. Thinking you had offended him, You quickly apologized. "It's nothin'. Just go and bother that crybaby instead."

You reluctantly agreed, not wanting to offend him any more than you had already. He didn't want to shoo you away, he just didn't want you to see his flushed face.

As days (hours, weeks? It’s hard to tell here) passed, he warmed up to You more and more. You couldn't lie that the overgrown bunny wasn't in fact cute, and maybe you were catching feelings too. Now, there weren't many people to ask for advice on how to confess. And Jax had built his reputation solely on how nothing could phase him, and he'd like to keep it that way. So, he decided to go with the classic: writing a letter. But it wasn't going to be some love letter, he could never muster up that. It was more so just a simple letter Nothing more, nothing less. Jax wrote the letter, folded it like 10 times, slid it under your door and ran as fast as he could to not get caught. After an hour or so of listening to Kinger's theories, You happily skipped back to your designated room. You unlocked your room and almost missed the paper on the floor. It was terribly creased and begged to be opened. Inside was a messy-written message stating: "You aren't as bad as I had thought. Meet me by the forest if you want to hang out or whatever..." Your heart filled with glee, You had forgotten all about your exhaustion and hurried over to the forest. Your heart pumped with joy as You saw the familiar purple bunny. As he saw your figure getting closer, it didn't take him a magician to know what your answer would be.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟

#x male reader #tadc jax #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc #x female reader #x male y/n #x transfem reader #x transmasc reader #x reader #x fem!reader #x m!reader #jax #the amazing digital circus jax #jax x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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deejadabbles · 1 year

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Songs in the Kitchen (Bad Batch fluff)

Summary: You're appalled when you find out about your new team's lack of nutrition and...well, what fun is cooking without a little dancing? Hunter x GN Reader and (platonic) Omega and Reader. No warnings, just cute domestic fluff.

A.N: Got this idea while making dinner last night and listening to Temuera Morrison's cover of Can't Take My Eyes off You. So, you have Clone Daddy to thank for this XD Also!! I have a bone to pick with this song! All my life I thought the lyrics were "I would walk 500 miles" but it's not?? It's "roll"??? My whole life is a lie. Anyway, I hope you guys like this, reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

"If they ever upgrade this ship, you'll help me convince them to invest in an actual kitchen, right?"

For possibly the fifth time you had rammed your foot into Gonky as he, you, and Omega shuffled around the pitiful table that the soldiers insisted was 'fine enough' for food provisions.

Omega chuckled as she climbed onto said droid to give you some more room. "You got it! I think cooking will be really fun in a real kitchen!"

You smiled down at her, the light in her eyes instantly alleviating any annoyance your stubbed foot may have caused you. You still couldn't believe that you only just discovered last week that Omega, nor any of her clone siblings, had ever learned the basics of cooking. Wrecker insisted that shooting wildlife and spit-roasting them counted...you did not. There was a difference between survival hunting and actual cooking!

In fact, the batch had been quite unphased when you observed the fact that they only ever seemed to eat ration bars and whatever slop they got from local cantinas. That caused a whole uproar on your part, scolding all of them for not caring more about their health. Yes, eating ration bars during the war was...unfortunate, but a harsh necessity. Eating them while away on whatever job they took was...acceptable, you supposed. But when they spent days on a reasonable planet with plenty of resources?! You couldn't believe they thought it was rational to still only eat those dry, tasteless bricks!

So now, here you were carving out the tiniest space available on the ship in an effort to cook your friends a somewhat decent home-cooked meal. Omega, always the bright-eyed wonderer, was eager to help while her brothers were in town for supplies.

Right now 'helping' was mostly just learning, since there honestly wasn't much room for her to do much. But you appreciated the company.

You rummaged through a box of things Tech had gathered for you; things he said were 'adequate cooking substitutes' in lieu of actual utensils, searching for a pear knife. You managed to dig up a serrated vibro dagger....alright, good enough.

While you chopped away at a strange local fruit, and Omega looked on with rapt interest, you couldn't help but smile. Despite the odd circumstances, the whole setting was quite domestic, and you thought of how happy it made you, that Omega was getting her own version of such an experience. Omega, who, like her brothers, had never had parents to dote on them and teach them, to have simple, warm moments like this with.

You hadn't noticed that you were humming until your hips started moving to the melody in your head. It was such an old song, but one that always made you feel so, whimsical, perhaps?

After scooping the first fruit into the bowl you moved on to the next item, one that Hunter had mentioned trying in the market the other day.

Hunter.

The thought of him made some heat fill your cheeks. You wondered- or rather, hoped, that he would like the meal you were making. The night after you had made such a fuss over their eating, Hunter had mentioned something to you, a far-off look in his eye like usual, as if he had a million things on his mind and that was just the one floating to the surface.

"Meal times weren't exactly a good time for us," he'd mused, not even looking at you, "even during downtime on Kamino, it was just another reminder that we didn't belong, even among clones."

That confession, along with an off-handed comment Omega had once made about no one but her sitting with them in the mess hall made your heartache.

Well, this will just be your chance to make mealtime a good memory for them!

Even more determination swelled in your chest as you moved about the small space, you'd have each of them smiling over your food if it killed you!

In fact, with each in mind, you started portioning off Hunter's plate when it came time to add the seasoning. Couldn't have his enhanced senses going mad with too much spice.

That old melody came floating back to you again, as you thought of the handsome sergeant.

"Pardon the way that I stare There's nothin' else to compare The sight of you leaves me weak There are no words left to speak"

The lyrics came easily as you worked, they were words of something pure, innocent; a rarity in this galaxy. A silly little dance even weaved its way into your movements.

"But if you feel like I feel Please let me know that it's real You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you"

"What are you doing?"

Omega's sudden question snapped you out of your daze- just in time to ram your foot into Gonky again.

After shaking the limb out with a curse you looked up at the child with a brow raised, "Uh?"

"What was that? That strange talking?"

You tilted your head, "Um... you mean my singing?" Come on, you knew you weren't a concert vocalist or anything, but did she really think you were that bad?

Omega's eyes went wide with excitement, "Oh! That's what singing is?"

"You've never heard singing before?!"

Unabashed, the girl just shook her head, "No, I mean, I've heard music before. Every once in a while Nala Se would play some Kaminoian music while she worked, but it was just sounds, no voices."

You stood there stunned for a moment, unable to think of anything to reply with. Just what else had this poor girl been deprived of in her childhood? Now that you thought about it, you'd never heard the boys play any music either. Maker, you hoped they had at least heard singing before.

"Omega," you started after a moment, "would you like to hear some of my music collection while we cook?"

You honestly had not thought it possible for her eyes to sparkle more, but the little one managed it.

"So you think we got enough?" Wrecker groaned, shifting the crate on his shoulder.

Tech didn't look away from his data pad as he answered, "We acquired everything on the list we were given, I can't fathom there would be any reason for complaint. Even with our friend's sudden, irrational concern for our eating habits."

"Don't mock it like that," Echo chimed in, "I think the change in pace is nice. You can't tell me you actually like those ration bars day in and day out."

"I fail to see how 'like' is of any consequence," was all Tech huffed in response.

Hunter, who was walking ahead of them all, let out a sigh. He wanted to tell them to pick up the pace, but bit back the urge. You had insisted that you could scrape together the first meal with what you had on the ship already, but, if their haul from the market could make your task easier, he wanted to get it to you sooner rather than later.

All of this was just so...sweet of you to begin with. Hunter never wanted to complain about anything regarding their life style, not during the war, not now, it was what it was, and he accepted that. You could have done the same, but instead, you went out of your way to improve things.

Hell, you could have just balked at their lifestyle, and made your own, separate from them, made your own food to eat in your own part of the ship. Instead, you had decided to include them all in your efforts, even putting up with their grumbles and gripes with that cute, bossy attitude you got when you were determined.

Hunter found the whole thing incredibly endearing.

Not to mention your inclusion of Omega. You were giving the little one an experience, a memory that she would carry with her always. The sergeant felt his lips curl up at the thought. You were a good companion for Omega...you were a good companion for all of them.

Unfortunately, his happy little musings were brought to a screeching halt as his hearing picked up on something. His enhanced senses did that a lot, noticing things before his brain could really register them. They were nearing the ship and, had the voices sounded distressed, he would have been on high alert. Instead, they sounded...was that, singing?

"When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you When I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you!"

The sound was almost foreign to Hunter's ears, your's and Omega's voices sounded quite different, but it was definitely your vocals crooning over what he now realized was music.

"What is that sound?" Tech asked behind him. They had gotten close enough now that even his brothers could hear it. Hunter could just imagine the shrugs and confused looks they were giving each other as he opened the door at the top of the loading ramp.

"And I would roll 500 miles And I would roll 500 more Just to be the man who rolls a thousand miles To fall down at your door"

In all the years he'd been aboard the Marauder with his team, he'd never seen something quite like this. Your music blared through the ship's speakers while you and Omega danced in the small space he'd cleared for your make-shift kitchen.

"When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you!"

You threw something into the sizzling pan atop the would-be hotplate Echo had improvised for you, before leaning down and taking Omega's hands in a silly little jig of a dance.

"And when the money, comes in for the work I do I'll pass almost every penny on to you"

"Hey hey!" Wrecker cheered, dropping the crate in the doorway, "A dance party!" and just like that he joined the happy fray.

Your eyes lit up upon seeing them, and if he'd thought you would stop, he was wrong.

"When I come home(When I come home), well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you!"

Your dance turned into some jabbing motions, aimed at them to go along with the apt lyrics. Hunter was glad you didn't stop, with the delighted look on your face and the squeal of delight from Omega as Wrecker lifted her atop his shoulders, his soft smile was back tenfold.

"Well," Tech began, the smallest traces of amusement in his voice, "things are certainly lively with them around."

Lively indeed, because when the song's chorus picked up again, no one was safe from the infectious, joyous mood. Wrecker lunged forward, leaving Omega to grab hold of both Tech and Echo and drag them to the proverbial dance floor.

In turn, Hunter felt a warm hand grab his, and you pulled him into a bouncing dance that would have been right at home around a bonfire.

His face felt a little hot despite himself, but he looked down at you, a fondness in his eye he didn't even know he was capable of as you sang along with the song.

"When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the one who's lonely without you"

Hunter couldn't help himself, he tuned out the actual song, focusing wholly on your voice as it wrapped around the words. And, for just a little while, Hunter imagined that you were singing them to him and him alone.

"And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream I'm gonna Dream about the time when I'm with you"

Maybe someday you would sing for him, but for now, he was content with this.

"When I go out, well I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the one who goes along with you"

He took a chance, and pulled you in just a little closer as he tried to keep up with your silly dance.

"And when I come home, yes I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the one who comes back home with you"

Yeah, he was more than content with this, for now.

"I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you"

#bad batch #bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter #star wars x reader #sw #hunter tbb x reader #sw tbb #deeja writes #oneshot #fluff

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