#I was trying to wait until I had all the gifs done on my muse list | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minoment · 1 year

Note

can i request face fucking könig?

Y'all fr living for this sub König content, not complaining though 🤭

Pairing: Sub König x Dom Reader (F + M, no pronouns used)

Type: Ficlets/Imagines (NSFW)

Warnings (kinda): sub könig, dom reader, dom male reader, dom female reader, gn reader, reader can be any gender, pussy eating, dick sucking, lots of hair pulling, fingering, somnophelia, cum eating, manhandling, face fucking, slight humiliation, and choking/breath play if you squint..

A/N: Happy Almost New Years hoes!! Anon didn't specify sex so I'm embracing my holiday spirit and giving you both. Reader can be any gender identity whatsoever :)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI !!

König loves giving you head, like, to the point where it's just slut behaviour. He would gladly wake up before you, nestle in between your thighs and leave hickeys everywhere before eating you out. If you try and pull him away he will whine and give you the dejected puppy eyes that you adore but hate at the same time. Giving you head will never be a punishment for him, he will always love it to the point where he's enjoying it more than you.

König had nestled himself in between your thighs once again, his hair pulled back as he kissed little marks all over your soft inner thighs. Your legs unconsciously hugged him closer to your heat, your warmth surrounding him. He practically whined out loud, unable to help himself as he buried himself in you. His tongue lapped at your entrance, suckling and circling over your clit. You whined softly, shifting above him as he continued to indulge himself. Eventually you woke up, looking down at him in bemusement. You gripped his hair, roughly pulling his head away from your heat. He panted, looking up at you like a starved puppy as he licked his lips. Your gaze was questioning as you waited for him to explain himself. He looked away sheepishly, not wanting to admit what he'd done.

"M'sorry-" he mumbled eventually, looking woefully back up at you. You chuckled at him, rubbing his cheek and still holding onto his hair.

"How are you going to repay me?" You asked. He thought for a minute before shrugging, still gazing up at you adoringly.

"How about this..." you mused, letting go of his hair and pushing him to floor with your foot. "You finish what you started and make me cum within two minutes and we get dressed and go report to our Commander. Or I tie you up with a vibrator and leave you here until my training shift is over..."

He gulped and nodded, hating the sound of the second option. He yanked on your sleepwear, dragging you down onto his face. Instantly, he was licking and suckling at your heat again like a starved animal.

You let out a shaky breath, not wanting him to get the best of you. So you gave his cheek a light slap and he understood, pressing his tongue flat against your clit and slipping two fingers inside you to work at your sweet spot.

You groaned softly, locking your thighs around his head and beginning to grind your clit against his tongue. He did his best by sucking and rubbing his tongue firmly against you as you used him for your pleasure.

A knot of pleasure grew in your lower stomach as the combined pleasure of his long fingers and needy tongue against your cunt grew too much. Breathy gasps and groans escaped your lips as you squirmed in ecstasy above him.

Your high came easily, washing over you in pleasurable waves as you released. König lapped up your juices obediently, gently removing his fingers and pressing soft kissed to your heat and thighs. You shivered slightly and got off him, giving him a quick kiss and heading for the shower. König smiled and licked his lips and fingers clean before getting up to follow you. He had another problem for you to deal with now.

Oral was used more as a way for König to get what he wanted. He wanted your attention while you're writing a case report? He'd crawl under your desk and suck you off. He wanted to be bent over that same desk and fucked dumb? He'd push you down and 'take control' by sucking you off. He wanted to be cuddled and have his hair stroked like a good boy? He'd kneel down in the shower and make you forget everything for a minute. König was just good that way. You, on the other hand, used it mostly as a punishment. He came without your permission? You'd make him suck you off and finish you twice as quickly as he did. He was being bratty or running his mouth? Just shove your cock down his throat, fuck his face and he'd shut up. Usually he'd enjoy it too much for it to be a proper punishment though.

It was late evening when König wandered into your room, his gear off and only dressed in sweats. His hair was down and he looked like he had just taken a shower. König went and lay on your cot, watching you as you finishes writing up some work and sorting some case files. Eventually, he got bored. You were taking too long in his opinion and he walked up behind you, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. You patted his head, acknowledging him. He frowned slightly, that was it? König picked you up from your chair, wrapping his large arms around you. You were only a few inches shorter than him and sometimes you forgot how strong König really was. A grunt of surprise left your lips and König tried to put you on the bed. Eventually he just let go, putting you on your feet.

"Ach, kommen Sie…" he grumbled, sitting down on your bed. "You are too heavy, meine Liebe-" He tugged your sleeve needily. "Come here.. I want your attention. Are those papers really more important than me?" König whined, looking up at you with his soft brown eyes.

You looked at him in frustration before giving in. "No.. of course not. But you didn't have to pick me up then drop me to get your point across-"

König shrugged, just glad he had gotten his way. He pulled you in by the belt, reaching up to grip your collar and dragging you down to kiss you. You kissed back for a second before slapping his hand off the nape of your shirt. König whined as you dragged him off the bed, sitting down where he had just been and shoving the larger man between your legs. He stumbled a bit and knelt in front of you, your hand immediately going to his hair. König let out a small noise as you tugged his hair, pushing his face down near your crotch.

He obediently started to unzip your pants with his teeth as you undid the button at the top with your free hand. König reached up, dragging your cargo pants and boxers roughly down to your ankles. You scowled and pulled his hair, hard.

A raspy moan was pulled from König's lips, his head pulled back to expose his throat. He looked up at you desperately, his Adam's apple bobbing with each nervous swallow. You released the tension, still holding onto his hair as you thrust his head down.

"Suck." You ordered, letting out a soft breath as König took your half-hard length into his warm mouth. He gripped the edge of the cot, pushing his head down further as he sucked, trying to hide his burning face from you.

He ran his tongue over the veins in your cock, whining as you you became fully hard. Your hand gripped his hair again, letting out a hiss of pleasure before rocking your hips into his mouth. König choked, his eyes rolling back and drool slipping out of the corners of his mouth. He let a muffled wanton moan, sucking harder.

You bucked your hips deeply into his mouth, making König choke and gag on your length. He got used to it, letting out whines and muffled moans as you fucked his throat.

Your thrusts became erratic and shaky, pulling on König's hair as he suckled as best he could. He was loosing concentration, his brain turning to mush and tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.

Your head fell back in pleasure, letting out a rough groan as you came hard. König let out a choked sob, doing his best to swallow. He sucked sloppily now, his saliva slicking your cock and his chin. Once you had come down from your high, he collapsed against the bed. König coughed a little and whined, closing his eyes and resting his chin on the side of the bed. You smiled gently, panting as you ran your hands though his hair. Eventually he pulled himself up, laying down on top of you and licking his lips. You wrapped your arms around him, sighing as you felt something large against your inner thigh.

1K notes · View notes

bisexual-thoughtss · 4 months

Note

Hey I was wondering if you can do a bernard x fem reader where when he comes back she's pissed off because he left and there's angry fucking

Bernard x Reader

Merry Christmas you filthy animals!! My first Bernard smut 😈

You’re going to kill Bernard.

It’s Christmas Eve and everything had gone to plan all night, until it hadn’t.

Bernard showed up to tell you that Santa needs help and that you’re in charge, quite literally blinking out of existence right in front of you before you could get a word in.

You wanted to scream, knowing all of his duties just fell onto your shoulders without warning. You powered through, fixing everything you could at the pole while Bernard fixed the problems on Santa’s end.

It had all turned out fine in the end but now you’re fuming in the aftermath, you can’t believe he just left you like that.

“Hey, sugarplum. Merry Christmas,” Bernard bends to kiss your cheek when he finally returns, looking as perky as ever. You scowl up at him from your chair, arms crossed over your chest. You had retreated to your room once everything was done and you’ve been waiting for him to arrive back.

He falters a bit at your lack uh of greeting, your cold stare stopping him in his tracks.

“S-sugar? Y’okay?” He trips over his words.

“What were you thinking,” you growl, standing up and stalking over to him. You poke a finger into his chest, pushing him back until his knees are against the side of the bed.

“Leaving me there with absolutely no warning,” you poke him again and he folds, landing on the mattress with a thud.

“No explanation,” you frown, crawling into his lap.

“What am I going to do with you?” You snap as he avoids your eyes.

Your fingers curl into his hair, pulling his head back until he’s forced to look at you. He goes a little slack as you tighten your hand in his hair, his eyes half lidded as you lean in to mouth at the point of his ear. He lets out an indecent moan when pull the tip into your mouth and suck before pulling back to look at him.

“Punish me?” He asks, looking delighted.

“You’re such a brat, way too excited about a punishment,” you shake your head fondly.

A light hand against his chest has him falling back into the sheets, already pliant underneath you. You grind against him teasingly, smirking as you feel him already hard.

“Excited already?” You tease and he blushes, squirming under you.

“Take this off,” you ruck up his shirt and he hurries to comply, his hat coming off with it. As you run your hands down his chest you stop to tweak a nipple just to hear him gasp. He looks so pretty all spread out. You reach down to rub him through his pants and he arches into it. You let him thrust against your hand until he’s begging for more, which you grant him. You shuffle his pants just out of the way enough for his length to slap against his stomach and he sighs happily when you take him in hand, groaning as you spit into your hand to ease the slide. Soon enough the pre steadily leaking from his tip is slicking the way easily. You palm over the head a few times and he’s practically shaking. He’s starting to breathe heavily underneath you, a telltale sign of his impending orgasm.

“You close, baby?” You hum and he nods frantically, bucking into your fist. You give him one more stroke before letting go and he groans in disappointment, cock twitching sadly against his stomach.

“Please,” he uses those big puppy dog eyes on you, but you’re not giving in that easily.

“Mm, maybe next time,” you hum noncommittally, starting to jerk him off again, “maybe not.”

He’s writhing under you, begging for you to let him come. You can tell that he’s trying to keep his reactions lowkey to trick you into letting him come, but you know better. When he starts to gasp between his pleas for release, you let him go again and he moans sadly at the loss. He looks bewildered when you stand up.

“Maybe I should just leave you here, hard and aching for it,” you muse. His eyes are bigger than you’ve ever seen them as he whines pitifully for you not to.

“But that’s not my plan. Strip,” you order and he rushes to get his pants and shoes off. He stares up at you reverently as you take your clothes off, taking in your form like it’s the first time. You grab a condom and roll it onto him, keeping your touch light to avoid giving him too much stimulation. You straddle him again, huffing a laugh as his cock kicks under you desperately.

“You wanna be inside so bad, huh?” You coo and he groans.

“Yes, yes, please,” he begs, hips bucking up.

You decide to tease just a little more, grinding against his dick pressed between you and his stomach. He groans as you slide slickly against him, his head catching on your entrance. You finally give in mostly for your own sake, finally lifting your hips so he sinks into you. You sigh happily, grinding your clit against his pubic bone. He reaches out to grab your hips, but you smack his hands away. Grabbing his wrists, you bring them up over his head and press them into the mattress.

“Uh uh, you’re gonna take what I give you,” you grumble, “I’m in charge now.”

You raise your hips and drop them down hard, a strangled moan coming from Bernard. You fuck yourself on his cock, chasing your own pleasure. He whines as the slick sounds of the two of you fill the air, craning his neck as far as he can to wrap his lips around your nipple and suck. You let out a pleased hum at the vibrations as he moans around it.

“I’m close, please let me come,” he begs, hips flexing to try and buck into you.

“Sure, baby. You can come whenever you want,” you tell him and he looks thrilled, “but I’m not stopping until I’m finished.”

His face drops as he lets out a pretty moan.

“‘M so close, I’m not gonna last,” he whines.

“You gonna come? Just can’t help yourself, huh?” You tease and he can’t take it, throwing his head back with a groan as he comes. It exposes the length of his neck to you and you can’t help but lean down to give him a love bite. You’ve slowed down, but you don’t stop fucking him and he’s writhing underneath you. You let go of his wrists after you suck a couple more marks on his neck to brace against his chest, changing the angle of his cock deliciously. He’s hitting your gspot now with every thrust and you can feel your orgasm welling in your belly quickly.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna come again,” he whimpers, entirely overstimulated.

“Make me come,” you plead as you bounce desperately, his hand shooting down to rub your clit. It’s only a couple more thrusts before you’re both crying out. A steady stream of curses leaves your mouth as you come around him and you feel him pulse into the condom again. Once the aftershocks subside you go boneless, collapsing against his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

“You okay? Was that too much?” You make sure, petting his sweaty curls away from his face as he rubs your back.

“So good. Merry Christmas to me,” he smiles blissfully and you snort.

“Such a brat,” you laugh, pulling him into a kiss.

#bernard the elf x reader #bernard x reader #bernard the head elf #bernard the santa clause #bernard the elf #david krumholtz

101 notes · View notes

amywritesthings · 1 year

Text

about you. (cassian x you)

Pairing: Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Summary: You are a rebel spy working as an escort at Canto Bight's cliffside casino. When Luthen cannot meet you for an intel exchange on New Year's Eve, he sends his best asset. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that meant you'd reunite with your former childhood best friend, Cassian Andor.

Warnings: New Year's Eve, Spy Thriller, Escort Service, Romantic Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Reunions, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Mentions of Sex Work, Wall Pinning, New Year's Eve Kiss

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I had a fun holiday one shot idea and wanted to try my hand at writing Cassian Andor. I am wishing you all a happy & healthy new year, and I can't wait to continue writing in 2023.

( Read on AO3 )

Canto Bight is always bustling at New Year’s Eve.

It’s why Luthen Rael has shown up on your doorstep for the first time in months. In his not-so subtle way, the man requests (see: demands) that you float back to your old haunt, the one within the glittering halls of their monument cliffside casino, and do what you do you best: entertain as a partner experience escort for the rich and powerful.

The partner experience operation has been your designation from the very beginning of this rebellious calling. Your contribution to the rebellion, as he claims, is valuable — because the whispers in the night by decorated Imperials that feel safe in your company are priceless.

Whispers bring intel, and not even gold is as priceless as Imperial intel.

Luthen claims he knew of your potential the moment he laid eyes on you in a seedy dive bar on an Outer Rim moon. The little lamb far from her home planet Ferrix, looking fearful yet enraged all the same; starved, but most importantly willing to do anything to take down the Empire one domino at a time.

It was the type of spunk the older man needed in a claustrophobic world.

So you struck a deal: under trained supervision, you would run the casino circuits and red districts — never quite getting close enough to sleeping with the enemy (who knew the Empire thrived on humiliation and edging?) but enough to drug them, learn from them, then report back to him for the next move.

Rinse and repeat for six successful years.

And right now, you were supposed to be done. Find a small shack in the middle of nowhere knowing you did your part in the small but mighty agenda. Perhaps, eventually, you would find a way to make peace with your past and your present.

Then Luthen fucking Rael shows up at the stoop of said shack only six months later with a new opportunity.

A new strategy on the chess board.

(The rebellion, as he so candidly puts it, is never final.)

“Did you hear about what’s going on with Life Day this year on Canto Bight?” Luthen grunts, opting to stand by the doorway rather than a seat at your makeshift kitchen table.

You drop down unceremoniously with your arms at your sides. You know — and you know he knows — there is a blaster taped on the belly of the steel table should this be an unpleasant visit.

“You mean the Wookie holiday?”

“Hmm,” Luthen sounds, caught between a yes and a no. “Supposed to be the Wookie holiday, but it seems the Empire has allowed the casino a profitable chance to participate until the new year.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” you muse in return, surveying him. “When you say profitable, you mean—”

“Everyone who is anyone will be visiting.” Luthen never makes any sudden movements; always trapped sounding bored with this life he leads. It’s also a tactic not to play his cards too far from his chest. “They’ll be running the gambit for paid time off.”

Smile bland, you nod once. “Which is code for… you need someone on the inside.”

“For the season,” he agrees, shifting his weight. “A gift to the faces who may have missed you.”

“Missed me?”

“I hear about the Diamond quite a lot.”

Their precious Diamond.

Maker, that nickname always made your skin crawl.

You huff, rubbing your nose with the back of your thumb. “Flattery gets you nowhere with me, Luthen, you know that.”

He takes a pause, small eyes observing everything that you do. Updating a mental database logging your quirks and your discomfort to cipher for a later date — that’s all he’s ever done, study and download people, and he’s done so without error yet.

(It’s why he’s never been caught.)

“It isn’t flattery,” he finally says. “It’s an opportunity.”

To do everything we couldn’t the first time, is what he really implies.

It’s feeding an addiction no amount of dead fascists will be able to quench.

“And how do I tell them why I want the job back after I quit?”

“Your mother was very ill. You needed to help with her expenses,” Luthen fabricates from thin air. “It was easiest to part ways without the low note on your record. But the credits have dried up, and their clientele will be thankful of the casino’s decision to allow you back on the floor.”

It’s your turn to pause — to study. He gives away nothing. You lean forward to rest your elbows on the tops of your thighs.

“You think that’ll work?”

“You’ll sell it,” is all he gives back like you’ve already said yes.

You’re supposed to be out.

(Do you want to be out?)

No.

No, you don’t.

Getting the job back at the casino as a specialized escort is easy. The difficulty lies in remembering how to fall into old, subtle habits when all you want to do is cause chaos. Staying engaged while chatting up Imperial scum as they spittle in their expensive liquors and moan about the woes of their occupations and agenda can only go on for so long.

Yet you laugh with the rest of them once they’re kissing your feet and your hands, because everyone in this rebellion has a part to play.

(Our loveliest of diamonds, back to see us once again.)

Luthen, of course, never leaves you to your own devices for long. Gifting a hefty sum of credits and a bag of dissolvable sedatives every time he passes through Canto Bight as his alter ego is about as noble as the illusive man gets.

You fill small briefcases with voice memos and holovideos of nightly conversations, drunken manifestos and slippery plans.

It works.

By some miracle, you have never been caught.

New Year’s Eve is filled to the brim with Imperial guards enjoying time off from their grueling schedules. Some of the higher commanding officers already have their arms draped over people inviting them to a great time. Others chase after the debauchery promised by scantily clad creatures inviting them into the halls and out of their money.

You? Have a booking in advance: a high-ranking officer, but not within the Inner Circle.

According to Luther, he’s a valuable asset double-crossing their superiors.

A plant.

You are to deliver the intel to him under Luthen’s command and trust.

(Ironic. You always believed Luthen trusted no one.)

At the final half hour of the year’s end, you round the corner from the main entertainment room and down the hallway towards the private event spaces. A multitude of sounds are muffled by the doors — some good, some not so. Your focus is set on the twelfth door where your officer awaits, and suddenly you feel nervous all over again.

Meeting one of Luthen’s other operatives feels all too daunting.

After a moment, you place your code into the code box by the door and wait for the durasteel to slide, revealing the plush crimson meeting space. It's staged with a convenient king-sized bed and a vanity for refreshment, inviting comfort and suggesting the obvious.

What greets you as the door opens — a silhouette at the edge of the bed, dressed in Imperial formals — is not what you envisioned.

The man’s hair is what you notice first: disheveled brown locks are combed back neatly, smoothed by gel to keep the unruliness at bay. The jacket’s shoulders are a little too pointed, as if he’s not grown into his uniform quite yet — or like he’d stolen it on his way into the venue. The lines on his faces aren’t new, but aren’t old. He’s tired — so fucking tired, but he sits taller the second the door opens.

The blank expression on his face is purposeful, almost doe-eyed, with a feigned, smug-like innocence only an Imperial officer would wear.

Then his gaze travels from your open-toed shoes, up your bodysuit dress of sequins, and locks onto your face.

Just like that, the façade is broken.

What once was blank now hardens, wholly confused, before the lines on his prominent brow smooth with recognition.

Cassian.

Of all the idiots in all the galaxy, Cassian Andor is dressed as an Imp in your meeting space on the eve of the new year.

And you thought, with this rebellion, that you’d seen everything.

While the officer in disguise is much older than what your memory recalls, you could never forget that face even if the Empire tried. The feeling of dirt under your fingernails, the scent of rubber burning, the spark of an electric charge from a stolen piece of property — it all floods back in a tidal wave, almost knocking you a step back into the hallway.

On Ferrix, Cassian Andor always ran around with different people — sometimes it was Bix when she wasn’t punished for entertaining teen scoundrels; sometimes it was other boys in scrappy brawls and mended machinery; most of the time, however, it was you.

Hand and hand, causing mayhem in the bright suns and the full moons. He'd shown you what it meant to stand up for yourself. To want what you want and not apologize for it. To be bold, even at the expense of disruption.

And then he’d pummel whatever wayward eye looked at you the wrong way.

Trouble.

Cassian Andor was so much trouble, and you were mad for it.

Your last memory of him is as vivid as the neon lights lining the ceiling: you're both sixteen years old and shoulder-to-shoulder on an inclined metal slab, staring up at the stars. He's wearing that jacket from his father and hasn't combed his hair in days. You're lost in telling him about your dreams of a better tomorrow, of one day leaving Ferrix for good and making a difference in the vastness of the galaxy despite how small you feel. He laughs, a hum more than anything else, and takes your hand in his.

You're too afraid to squeeze back.

Having Cassian poke fun of the idea of doing much of anything in the galaxy never felt like he mocked you for wanting to try. More than anything, his laugh was one of envy: he couldn’t afford dreams, so you dreamt for the both of you. He couldn’t handle intimacy, so you were satisfied with resting your hand in his the entire night.

Nothing was said. Nothing had changed.

He gave what he could, and you understood.

Childhood friendship has a funny way of feeling that simple.

Cassian, however, never truly chose to change with you. He never truly chose anyone, not really, not when he had so much to give — to his mother, to his scrapyard confidantes, to Bix.

You fit somewhere in the chapters of his life, but Cassian Andor could never tell you which ones. He could not, and would not, promise someone tomorrow.

An unfinished book.

You never did tell him where you were going after hitching a ride on that stock transport to get the hell out of Ferrix for good. Not a single holocard or a note.

Just… gone, into the galaxy, to dream.

Now he sits in front of you at the edge of your meeting space bed, threatening to ruin your calculated cover in one-fell swoop.

Before Cassian can implode your operation, you turn on the mask: with a bright smile and squared shoulders, you gesture to the plush furniture of the room. “Is it to your liking, Mr. —?”

You trail off on your question to give him a chance to speak.

Cassian blinks a few times, only to remember himself.

“Raoul,” he blurts without dismissing his accent, eyes widening with an unspoken question: what are you doing here? “Sargeant Murl Raoul.”

Maker, you haven’t heard that voice in so long.

It’s deeper now. Rusty. Scratched.

“Sargeant,” you correct pleasantly, taking a step into the bedroom to toe the perimeter. Cassian pulls the geometric gray hat clear from his head, balling it in his fist, but you raise a palm at the hip when his mouth opens: don’t.

He listens, pressing his lips together with purpose.

“I asked if this room was to your liking," you repeat.

Cassian struggles with an answer, studying you with concern. You hate it. You hated it back on Ferrix when he tried to play protector, and a decade and a half apart doesn’t dilute the emotion.

Your brows rise, and he clears his throat. “I— yes, I am quite comfortable.”

“Good,” you conclude with a small nod. “Now before I join you and get more comfortable, do you have any questions for me?”

“More comfortable?” he asks a little too fast, so you recover with a glide of your hand along your sparkling thigh.

“Can’t do much when I’m in this old thing,” you coo, that stage performer voice now sounding so phony to your ears with a known audience. “Shouldn’t take long.”

Cassian runs the tip of his tongue along the seam off his lips, shifting his seat on the mattress. “I suppose I could ask how… uh, how long have you been doing… this?”

You don’t know if he’s asking about the escort arrangement or the Informant position, which further complicates the game. The odds of Cassian showing up on Canto Bight should be slim. Cassian wearing an Imperial outfit on his own ought to be slim to none.

But appearing in your private meeting space, fake alias and all?

Your blood runs cold with truth between the lines.

(Luthen never does anything by accident.)

This meeting — reuniting Cassian and yourself — is his test, a judgment call, but you refuse to let Luthen win the game with this surprise hand.

“Years,” you answer honestly, to both.

You continue to face him as you skirt around the left side of the sparkling vanity, not taking any chances with your former friend. Your manicured fingers glide along the mirror’s back, searching for the planted Imperial wire.

(Not only are they cruel, but perverted in their efforts to catch spies.)

“So then you are... experienced?” The question comes out rougher than you believe he intends. Gruff, like he’s embarrassed to even ask.

(The question almost — almost — makes your face burn.)

“If you’re worried that you won’t have a good time, Sergeant, then I promise they sent you to me for a reason. I’m going to take great care of you.”

Cassian’s expression darkens at this as he rises to his feet with purpose.

You rip the microphone from the back of the mirror, holding the device between your index and middle finger for show.

This stops him from moving ahead, eyes locked on the microphone before flickering back to you. You shake your head.

I said don’t.

He nods once, and you take the microphone between your hands. With two clicks, the wire cover pops open, displaying a multitude of tiny wires. You fidget between two, pulling, until the red eye at the center of the device dissolves into black.

The room is blanketed with silence.

Now it’s just you and a ghost here.

“We’re clear,” you tell him after another beat, dropping the seductive aloofness in your tone.

Cassian’s shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. “That was fast.”

Your brow picks up that fraction, raising high. “You have to dismantle them fast."

“Let me take a look at it,” Cassian replies, tossing the hat twisted in his hands to the mattress. "Are you certain it's off?"

“Positive,” you say, sheltering the item closer to your chest. “You don't need to look at it. Easy to disable and reassemble at a moment’s notice, so I’ll turn it back on when you depart.”

“What about lost footage?”

“Chalk it up as faulty equipment they’re too stubborn to replace in a shithole like this.”

Cassian mulls over your answer, taking a cautious few steps forward to observe the small device in your hand. “Imperial-grade wires are tough to work with. A five-second warning doesn’t give many people time to disable the alarm,” he informs in a whispered afterthought. “Where did you learn to do that?”

In your bones, you know it’s a trick question.

Fifteen-something years of reuniting in a moment like this comes with immense drawbacks. When he asks, it is not out of curiosity — it is out of the desire to see if you are truly you.

(Because he remembers your face, too.)

“On Ferrix,” you reply.

He gives no reaction, continuing to deadpan. “Where on Ferrix?”

“You want me to remember from that long ago?” you laugh, placing the microphone on the vanity’s surface and following up with a thick blue cloth to drape over top of it.

“Humor me,” he reasons, flexing his leather-clad fingers at his sides. Now that he doesn’t have a distraction, Cassian doesn’t stop looking at your face.

(The same intensity as the boy without dreams.)

“The old Slavyard. There was that one incredibly rainy month when those prim and proper freaks—”

“—installed the spyware on the back door in the middle of the night,” he interrupts, finishing the story with a misplaced awe under his breath. “You played lookout while I disabled the devices.”

You don’t answer, not really, as you offer a half-hearted smile. “Say what you want about that place, but you learn a lot of things when you watch restless boys who never know when to stop getting in trouble.”

The return smile is small and fleeting, but the corner of Cassian’s lip upticks. His brows knit together, contemplating before a huff of a laugh exits. “Not a very good lookout, then, if you were so busy watching me.”

“You never got caught, though, did you?” you joke.

You swear he almost laughs.

The silence settles at your ankles and rises with each passing second, encompassing you both in a shroud of possibilities: pleasantries are nice, but the popping of bottles and shouts of celebration passing by your room brings you both back to a reality where you’re playing pretend.

Cassian huffs once more, running a hand down his face and around his neck before dropping it in a gesture towards you. “He cannot be serious.”

He.

You catch that pronoun with intrigue and tilt your chin.

“Serious about what? Who’s ‘he’?”

His voice softens, shrinking in size, as he nears half a step closer and into your bubble. “Don’t tell me it’s you.” You maintain eye contact — maintain dominance of this situation — and stay in place. “When he said to wait…”

“...for the Informer, you didn’t think you’d run into a ghost?” you finish, and he’s polite enough not to nod. “He only told me the person he was sending in his stead was one of his best assets. This reunion isn’t my doing.”

“No,” Cassian agrees, low and certain. “It isn’t.”

Because Luthen knows.

Luthen knows, and that’s dangerous in and of itself: his little lamb on Ferrix knew his most trusted asset long before the mastermind was in the picture, and this sabotage is meant to figure you out.

(To figure you both out for his own gain: to make sure you were both up for the task, history aside.)

Your jaw clenches as you nod with assertion, mindful of the train of your body-tight dress when you shift around Cassian to create some space. He turns his torso, following.

“Did he force you to do this?” When you pause in your steps to quirk a brow, he struggles with verbalizing what this means. “Entertaining these low lives while they piss their credits away.”

“Very strong words for someone dressed as an Imp.”

He completely ignores you, hyper in his budding rage. “Because if anyone has touched you—”

“No one’s forcing me to do anything, Cass,” you reply, hateful that the former nickname leaves your lips so fluidly; as if no time has passed. “We’re all cogs working for the same machine.”

“That doesn’t mean he should be having you do this on your own,” the man argues. “He’s not even on the planet, for fuck’s sake. This is dangerous work.”

“You keep saying this or that, but you’re not really asking the real question.” Your nose scrunches, maliciously playful. “I don’t fuck them. It’s pretend, Cassian. My honor is intact.”

Cassian squints with a scoff. “That isn’t what I meant—”

“It isn’t?” you challenge.

“No,” he responds just as fast and just as intense. A smirk plays on your lips, slow and growing. “Fuck whoever you’d like to fuck. One or a dozen, I don’t care, but not them. They don’t deserve you.”

“And who does?”

“I don’t know, but not Luthen or the pieces of shit out there or anyone on this planet.”

“Not even you, right?”

He stares down at you, hard. You snort in disbelief.

“I never thought I’d see the day where Cassian Andor is jealous of a body count, but I guess stranger things have happened for both of us.”

Cassian’s jaw sets, nostrils flaring with an anger he refuses to bury completely. He searches your face, lost on a response, before sharply inhaling through his nose.

“I need information on your regulars.”

Ah.

No more games.

You roll your eyes, absently waving him off as you turn to walk towards the crate-like nightstand. “I have the files on a drive.”

No more games, or so you thought — Cassian follows close behind. “Drives are easily corruptible or lost or stolen. You could just tell me.”

Your hand hovers on the drawer when you turn your chin to look at him. “Yeah, sure, let me just… tell you about a mission I’ve spent years finessing so you can get the details wrong when you relay with Luthen.”

“Do you think so little of my memory skills?” he says and it’s a joke, but it teeters on the edge of an argument.

Just like old times.

You don’t need this type of deja vu before the new year.

“Whisper down the lane only goes so far,” you answer, turning back to the drawer in front of you. Your hand lifts the edge of the bottom plate, removing a small box from the center of the hidden compartment.

You only pause when you feel his presence right behind you as soft puffs of air tickle the back of your exposed neck.

He says nothing, not at first, in this proximity. Then a syllable sounds:

“Why?”

The question is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it whisper. His voice flutters along your skin, causing a shiver down your spine. Deep down you know he’s not asking about the drive or your distaste for his preferred method of relay. Why — the one word you hoped to never face.

If you concentrate hard enough, you can smell the scent of his cologne.

It smells nothing like Cassian.

You stay focused on a miniscule dot on the wall, too afraid to turn around.

“We can’t do this here,” you murmur, barely audible in return.

“I paid for the hour,” he replies. “If I were to leave ten minutes into your company, then there would be questions.”

(He’s right. As much as you hate it, your former friend is right.)

You raise your chin to the ceiling, closing your eyes. Contemplating. Seeking anything, everything, to say to avoid what’s to come.

You open your mouth to speak, but Cassian gets there first.

“I looked for you.” A vulnerable statement from an impenetrable man. His chin leans forward, the warmth of him spreading to your aura. “In dozens of quadrants—”

“Cassian.”

“—and about a hundred planets—”

“Stop.”

“—but you left nothing.” The final word emphasizes with raw emotion, causing your throat to swell. His gloved hand rests on your tricep, but you turn to finally face him. The closeness of him is a surprise — piercing brown eyes meet yours with mere centimeters between noses. “No note, no goodbye, no telling where you might have headed. Nothing.”

Frowning, you don’t realize that you’re shaking your head. The lines on his face are too distracting. He is distracting.

“You were never supposed to see me again.”

“And I never understood why.” He steps forward. You step back. When you think he won’t advance, he continues to step once, twice, until the third lands your back to the corner of the room. “So I am asking — now — while I can still have you: why?”

While I can still have you. You know the implication isn’t there, not truly, but your heart aches for it. The tension makes you feel so small, as if you’re eighteen and flying all over again.

You’re supposed to be over this; over him.

“I had to start new,” you answer after a considerable pause, forcing yourself to look him in the eye in what little space is held between you. “I was always going to leave Ferrix.”

“I knew that,” he argues softly. “I was never going to deter you from—”

“No. No, you were never going to,” you agree, nodding. “But you were always off and on the planet, doing what you had to for everyone else. If I didn’t cut Ferrix out of my life, then I wonder if I would have had the same fate as my parents or my friends: getting stuck there. And not just getting stuck, but waiting.”

“Waiting?” Cassian asks with confusion, brows knit.

You relax against the wall with a humorless laugh. “How did you not see it? The way I always waited for you.” Anxious, you turn your cheek to check the main door as you mull over your next few words. “I would have waited my whole life for you.”

The air in the room shifts.

Although he remains in your peripheral vision, the man stays staring at you without a discernible expression. The gravity of what you’re admitting drags lower, lower, until he says something that forces you to look at him head-on:

“I thought you were indifferent to me.”

Your eyes widen. “Indifferent?”

Cassian nods, short and quick. “You had all these big plans. I listened for hours. Not one of them involved me.”

“Because I didn’t think you’d want to be a part of those plans.”

“Maybe I didn’t think I couldn’t make a difference, not in a… rebellion, though the irony is not lost on me now,” he admits with a huff of a laugh, “but I wanted to be a part of you. I didn’t care what it was, so long as I still had you.”

You stare at him as he stares back at you, totally dumbfounded with this brand new information. Cassian swallows thickly, shifting his weight yet again from one leg to another. The loud party continues outside of your room, drowning these confessions in the excitement for a nearing midnight.

You had all these big plans.

Memories warp at a second’s notice as your brain tries to understand what he’s laid at your altar.

Not one of them involved me.

He shouldn’t be saying this.

He shouldn’t be saying any of this.

Closing your eyes to find a pause in your racing thoughts, you try — try to find where perhaps this is fabricated, designed to see if you’re easily swayed by the past that you so desperately let die in this rebellion.

Slowly, your eyelids flutter open. Cassian is watching with something close to concern.

(Something, maybe, closer to fear.)

You gently shake your head. “This is a test.”

“I know.”

“Luthen did this—”

“Fuck Luthen,” he breathes out, eyes dropping to stare at your lips, and your heartbeat quickens.

His brows meet in the middle, concentrated yet lost — as if he’s back on Ferrix, scrawny and scrappy and calculating the gravity of the risk should he decide to steal or trespass —

Or do something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Cassian.”

Your voice is gentle with a warning. His eyes do not raise, but he does answer.

“What?”

“You have that look on your face.”

“I have a look?”

“When you’re contemplating doing something stupid? Yes.”

He snorts, amused. “You remember what that looks like after fifteen years?”

“It's very hard to forget it.”

He mulls the moment over, flickering his attention back up to your eyes and nodding.

“You’re right. I am thinking of doing something stupid.”

“How stupid?”

“Incredibly.”

A beat passes.

Finally he blinks up to your eyes, searching for an answer to a question he hasn’t asked yet. You wait, just as you’ve always waited, to hear his voice.

“It’s almost midnight,” he says, flexing the leather gloved hand at his side. “I should go.”

Everything sinks.

The crowd outside grows louder as people depart from their private rooms to celebrate in the middle of the casino. Everyone begins the unison countdown of the final minute until the new year rings out.

The device in your hand grows heavy — a reminder of why he’s here in the first place, what Luthen will be looking for, yet your arm cannot rise to give it over.

(A few more minutes and he’ll be gone.)

To find a reason to keep him here with you would be selfish.

Instead of protesting, you nod.

“Yeah. You should go.”

He nods, too, and his throat bobs with a swallow.

Outside your door, their laughter and shouts reach a collective ten, nine, eight, seven…

Yet he doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

Six, five, four, three…

“Cass?”

Two.

Cassian speaks with broken finality, rushed and wanting. “I can't go without—”

You beat him to it.

Canto Bight’s cliffside casino roars with excitement of the new year while you grab the lapel of his Imperial uniform, dragging him in as he simultaneously launches his lips to yours.

The force of him smacks your head into the wall, but the stars behind your eyes aren’t from impact. It’s from the way he presses his mouth to yours, desperate to pour years of frustration and wonder into a long-awaited kiss. You whimper into it, eager to dissolve any space between you.

Cassian Andor cages your head into the palms of his gloved hands, holding you with a tenderness and strength only he can have. He groans into your mouth when he tastes you, tongue dragging along your lower lip — the neediness of it is enough to make your knees give out.

Except he drops his hands to your shoulders and spins you, pressing your chest into the wall. Using your hands to balance yourself, Cassian wastes not a second more to place his hands over yours, pinning you in place.

“We should have — opened with a fight,” he murmurs breathlessly into your ear, kissing your earlobe before bringing it into his mouth.

You bite back a moan, dropping your forehead to the wall. “If I'd known you wanted to kiss me after all this time, Cass, then I would have — gone straight past a fight and went for it.”

He chuckles behind you, letting go of your earlobe to travel kisses down the side of your neck.

“There is a lot I wanted to do back then, but I was too chickenshit to try it.”

The imagery of a lot burns into the back of your skull.

“And now?” you ask, but it’s wavered.

Cassian slows down, but his lips remain against the crook of your neck. You mourn the loss of speed, pushing your hips back to connect with his.

A hand shoots down to still your waist as his thumb runs soothing strokes into the skintight dress.

“Not here,” he decides, but it isn’t regretful. It’s determined. “When I see you again—”

“When?” you interrupt.

“When,” he enforces, squeezing your waist, “I see you again, I’ll do what I’ve been too chickenshit to do and it won’t be under a watchful eye.”

When I see you again.

You smile small, delirious in the haze of him.

“Is that a promise?”

“As good as I can make one,” he responds in earnest, turning to leave a small kiss on your cheek. “You’re not losing me so easily this time.”

And you believe him.

Misunderstandings, miscommunications — all of that hardship to end up here, of all places.

You have so much to learn.

(He has so much to hear.)

Even if this was Luthen’s doing, even if this was a test of faith, you cannot find a reason to care. Not when your lips still tingle with the kiss you’d only dreamt about your entire life.

Reaching for his arm, you gently bring his free hand to yours and place the small drive in the middle of his palm. Cassian’s chin drops to observe the tiny metal, jaw setting to its unreadable clench.

Because at the end of the night, you both still have jobs to do.

A new year.

(A new horizon.)

“Until next time,” you say, removing your hand from his.

Cassian curls his fingers over the drive, shoving the small device in his coat pocket. He flexes and raises his hand to bring it up to your cheek, cradling your face once more as he leans in for one final kiss. This time it’s softer. Timid.

The closest Cassian Andor can ever get to a promise.

He pulls away, nose to nose, and mirrors in reply.

“Until next time.”

#andor #cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x you #cassian andor x female reader #cassian andor x f!reader #andor tv #andor tv series #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #andor fanfiction #cassian andor fanfiction #luthen rael #female reader #reader insert #new years eve #about you #amywritesthings

669 notes · View notes

cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Taking the Blame

Summary: The Reader and Andy end up having their first fight at one of Andy’s office parties. But the real question is, who’s right and who’s wrong. Andy Barber x Black!Reader

*Warnings: Jealous Andy Barber, Apologetic Andy Barber, Confident Reader, Smut, Spanking, Daddy Kink, Cursing, Office Sex, Rough Sex, Pet Names, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Growing Pains Series. As always, I’d love your feedback, so please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

___

The first real fight you’d ever had with Andy had been entirely unexpected. You had been approximately six months into your relationship. Up until that point everything had been wonderful. He had treated you like a queen at every opportunity, and you had tried to spoil him at every chance you’d gotten as well. He always won. You always tried your best, but Andy Barber was a special kind of beast, in all of the best ways possible.

Now, you’d only received two additional, eh, spankings from him since the one after your car had been stolen. One for a pretty egregious speeding ticket, and the other for skipping meals. You weren’t sure why, but the one you’d received regarding the whole forgetting to eat business had been worse than the one you’d gotten for the ticket.

Flashback You’d been at his house, nestled together on the couch while you waited for your dinner to arrive. Your bodies intertwined, with his head resting atop yours, which was snuggled up against his chest.

You’d been trying to find something to watch on Netflix when your stomach had growled. Loudly. “Sorry about that.” You’d mumbled. “Guess I’m a little hungrier than I thought.”

He’d chuckled. “Aw, it’s okay. Daddy knows he needs to feed his baby.” He’d pressed a kiss to your forehead, just in time for your stomach to rumble yet again. That time you’d giggled too.

And then you’d screwed up. “Guess that’s what I get for not eating today.” You’d mused, more to yourself than him. Nevertheless, you’d felt him stiffen against you. Surprised, you’d looked up at him in confusion. “Andy, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean you didn’t eat today?” He’d looked down at you, his voice gruff. “Uhh…” You’d stammered.

“Y/N, when was the last time you put something in that little tummy?” You’d looked around nervously at that point, trying to come up with an answer that would appease him. Even if it meant you had to fudge the truth a bit. His grip had tightened on you then. “And don’t you dare think about lying to me, young lady. Because I will know.”

‘Oh, just bite the bullet and be honest. What’s the worst that could happen?’ You’d thought to yourself. Famous. Last. Words. “Uh, I had a cup of coffee and a boiled egg for breakfast…yesterday morning.”

He’d pursed his lips and nodded before sitting up with you in his arms. “So you’re telling me that you haven’t eaten anything other than a miserable little boiled egg since yesterday morning? Is that right? Okay.” He’d pulled out his phone to check on the delivery status of your food. “Looks like we still have twenty-five minutes to go. That should be enough time.”

You’d shrank back a little at that. “Enough…enough time for what?”

“Enough time for you and I to have a very important, bottoms-up discussion about how you need to make sure you’re eating properly every damned day.” With that, he’d effortlessly maneuvered you face down over his lap. “Andy, wait!” You’d started to struggle, which had then prompted him to throw one of his heavy legs over your own.

“Nope. Don’t want to. You’ve gotta learn, baby girl. Daddy is serious about taking care of every single part of you. Now these will be hard and fast, so I won’t make you count. And when we’re done, the food should be here, and you can curl up on my lap while we eat and I’ll even let you pick the movie.” You blushed when you felt him lower your sleep shorts, revealing your bare backside to the cool air. “Daddy, let’s just talk about this please!”

“Talk all you want.” You cry out when his palm comes down hard again, and again, and then again. “You’ve got my full attention.”

End Flashback

He’d made you feel so good afterwards, so loved and safe and wanted…you’d almost forgotten about the pain of your spanking. Keyword being almost. So as payback, you’d picked a horror film. And not just any horror film, but The Conjuring, parts one and two. It felt good to feel such a big, strong man jump in terror underneath you. That’s what you get buddy.

Tonight, you’d agreed to join him at a company party at his law firm. They were celebrating an important expansion, and everyone was thrilled. Especially Andy. For your look for the evening, you were rocking a skintight, dark blue dress that came to just above the knee. It hit every curve just right, in your mind, without being too much. You had even paired it with some navy pumps, matching earrings, and a sparkling choker necklace.

Unsure of your look, you’d sent a couple pictures off to some friends, wanting their opinions. And their various responses had been everything from “yes, girl!”, to “goddamned is that man lucky as hell!, and even one much appreciated “Va Va Voom!”. So, in their words, no it wasn’t too much. They all knew where you were headed tonight, a couple of them had even helped you choose the damned thing. But when you wanted to look perfect, you had to make sure.

Andy Bear: Baby, I’m pulling up in five. You ready?

You spritz yourself with a little perfume that you know will last you awhile. It was one of your favorites, and if your boyfriend happened to like it too…win win.

You: Of course! Can’t wait to see you, baby. It’s been four days…

Andy Bear: I know. See you in a moment.

Purse in hand, you find yourself anxiously waiting by the door. Watching through the window for him to pull up. When he does you let out a can’t help but let out a little squeak. When your phone rings you decide that is your cue to step out the door, locking it as you do.

You whip around just in time to see Andy’s long legs striding up the stairs. God, to say the man looked good would be a major understatement. His hair is slicked back, his beard is freshly trimmed. The fabric of his black button down shirt clinging seductively to his well-muscled body.

When he reaches you, he takes you into his strong arms, prompting you to nuzzle your face into his chest. Of course the man smelled fabulous.

His big, strong hands go to wrap themselves around you. They squeeze your arms, your waist, your ass, all the way down to your thighs. You can tell that he wants to lift you up so that you can wrap your legs around his hips so that he can take you back inside to make up for the 96 hour absence between you two.

You had no idea the kind of thoughts that had been plaguing his mind over the course of that time. Had you needed him and he hadn’t been there? No, you would have called him. Wouldn’t you have? He was Daddy…

“I missed you. Things have just been so busy, I’m so sorry that we’ve barely been able to speak.” He whispers in your ear, his minty breath carefully wafting over face.

“I missed you too, baby.” You pull away. The sincerity and emotion in his eyes has you positively melting where you stand.

“Andy, it’s okay. I understand. Things got a little crazy and oof-”

Andy takes your mouth, his soft lips swooping in to take your own under their control. When you don’t immediately open up, his tongue brushes over your bottom lip once, twice. “You’re gonna mess up my lip gloss.” You mumble into the kiss.

“Don’t care.” He growls. “You wore it for me, didn’t you? So let me in, baby.” Which you do, and you give him everything. At least until the waiting driver yells out something about how you both needed to hurry up, otherwise you were going to be extra late. Reluctantly, you let go of each other.

“To be continued?” You whisper.

“Yes, honey. You can count on that shit.” He growls back before ushering you down the steps and inside the vehicle.

“Ya know, baby. A lot of this could have been avoided if you finally decided to accept the inevitable and just move in with me. Then we could see each other all the time. Sleep in the same bed every night. All the good stuff.” You elbow him as you climb into the car without answering.

You get settled in your seat before Andy leans over to fasten your seatbelt for you. You flash him an exasperated look, opening your mouth to remind him that you were a big girl. Only to be cut off when his face lets you know that he doesn’t care.

“We’ve been over this, Andy. I have a lease. Now tell me about your week.” He levels you with a hard stare, his face letting you know that once again he’s not happy with your answer.

Thankfully, he chooses to move beyond it and launches into a conversation about his unexpectedly hectic week. And like the doting lover he was, he also makes sure to ask about yours. Along with whether or not you’d been eating, how you’d been sleeping, as well as a quiet question about whether or not you had missed him.

You snuggle into his broad chest as much as your seatbelt will allow. “Of course I missed you. You’re my Daddy.” His face breaks out into a satisfied grin. “You’re going to take me home and cuddle with me after all this is over, right?”

“Oh Y/N, honey. You and I are going to go back to my place and do so much more than cuddle.” His big hand reaches over to stroke your face before dragging your mouth back to his. You spend the rest of the ride making out like teenagers, your poor driver be damned. You needed to reconnect with your man.

And clearly your Andy Barber, Mr. District Attorney, felt the same.

—

An Hour and Some Change Later…

Woo. You loved your man, yes you did, but when Andrew Barber went into attorney mode, heaven help you. And that is exactly what he’d done almost from the moment you both arrived. He’d introduced you, allowed you to make a little bit of small talk, and then he had taken over. And part of you understood, truly. This was his world. Your world was a little different.

But deep down you also knew that if he ever came with you to one of your Marketing & PR events, you’d make it a point to try to include him into at least some aspects of whatever conversation you were having, regardless of who you were having it with. Granted, you could argue that your particular occupation was a little more fun than his, but when attorneys like him screwed up, who’d they call to help save face with the public? Oh that’s right. Folks like you.

Well, maybe not you specifically. Mostly because if it involved Andrew, and someone had something bad to say about him, you’d take your shoe to his or her head immediately. And then read your prepared media statement.

Anyway, protectiveness aside, you were tired of being nothing but a piece of evening arm candy. It was boring. So after a certain point, you lean over to kiss Andy’s shoulder and murmur something about going to grab another drink from the bar. To your surprise he just smiles and nods, without so much as even glancing your way.

‘Okay, no big deal.’ You think to yourself. ‘I get it. He’s busy. But I’m not helpless, so I’m going to find a way to occupy myself.’ So you slink away to the bar to order another drink, or two. And that’s where you meet a man named Jameson.

Were you interested in him? Oh, absolutely not. Not when you had that fine, intelligent, slightly obtuse ass hunk waiting for you. But you were bored and he wanted to have a conversation. Turned out you found him to be engaging and kind of funny, so once you’d started talking, you’d just let the conversion ride. Nothing inappropriate, nothing sneaky…just a flipping conversation.

And once you’d started talking, things had just flowed naturally. He’d asked you about your job, your clients, new projects you were working on, and more. Jameson had also told you about himself as well. How he’d been around just a couple years less than Andy (because yes, you’d made it clear from the beginning that you were with Andy), and how he’d worked his way up.

You were just beginning to discuss his favorite case when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. “Was wondering where you ran off to, sweetheart. Thought you might have left.” Hey there, Andy. Boy, you don’t sound happy.

You glance down at your phone to see how much time had elapsed since you’d sat down at the bar for a drink. Forty-five minutes.

“Hi James.” Andy says softly, but the disdain in his tone is hard to miss. “I see you’ve met my lady.”

The other man coughs nervously. “She’s a lovely woman. You’re very lucky.”

“I know that. In fact, I’m more than just lucky, this woman right here colors my whole goddamn world. Are you done, Y/N?”

You turn to look up at him in confusion. Was that…jealousy you heard in his tone? It couldn’t be…

“No, I’m not Andrew. As you can see, your colleague and I were in the middle of a nice conversation and my drink is still full so…” You smile and shrug in an effort to diffuse whatever was happening here.

“I think it’s time that James went and found someone else to talk to.” The smile he gives the other man isn’t so much encouraging as it is intimidating. “Plus, I’d like to show my girl here the newest artwork I just had installed in my office.”

Huh?

“Uh…” James looks down. “I’m going to go, but it was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“It was nice meeting you too. Hopefully we can talk again some time.” You give his hand an affectionate squeeze, which Andy does not like.

You go to take a sip of your drink, unsure of how to appropriately process what just went down, when it is suddenly stolen from your hand. You watch as Andy eagerly downs the remainder of your Amaretto Sour.

“Hey, that was mine!” Placing the empty glass down, he gently hauls you out of your seat.

“Excuse me! Andrew! What the fu–hell was that all about?” He begins to lead you towards his office, just like he said he would. “Stop it!” You hiss, digging your heels into the carpeted floor.

“No.” He growls. “Gonna show you my artwork, baby girl. All my artwork. Just like I promised.”

“Did you even ask me if I wanted to see it? You are such a freaking ogre!” He laughs darkly. “Is this about James? Because I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” You huff. Andy keeps going, occasionally nodding at people from time to time. You find yourself being all but dragged down the damned hall. Motherfucking Asshat.

When the two of you finally reach his office, Andy all but tosses you inside before following you in. What the fuck had him in such a foul mood? He shuts the door behind him. And then if you’re not mistaken, you hear the click of a lock.

“You planning to turn on the lights, Andrew, so I can see this all of this so-called artwork? Or should I start working on developing night vision?” You’re starting to get pissed. You hadn’t seen this man in days, and now he wanted to sully the night like this?

“Andy.”

No response.

“Andrew!” You bark. “Turn on the lights!”

“No.” He snarls softly. “You want to flirt with other men? You want to forget who you belong to? What, just because we’ve been apart for a few days? I’m not okay with that, and even more importantly, I’m not having it.”

Thankful for the presence of a little moonlight, you lean over and turn on his desk lamp. “What the hell are you talking about?” You can finally make out the dangerous gleam in his eyes. “That was not my fault. I was literally just having a conversation after had I stood with you for over an hour where all I did was smile and fucking nod.” Andy continues to stare you down with a snarl on his gorgeous lips.

“Do you know how much fun that was for me? I was freaking bored out of my skull, honey!”

“So you went and talked to James.” He takes a step towards you. “The one man who can’t stand me. The one man who, if he had his way, would replace me as DA in a heartbeat.” Okay, wow.

“Andy, I went to the bar like I said I was going to. He happened to be there and – and that’s not even on me, damn it! You know why? Because I had never met him and you had never mentioned him. I didn’t know a thing about that guy. I had no idea that you two had that kind of bad blood between you. I. Did. Not. Know.”

Still not satisfied, he takes another menacing step in your direction.

“Thank you for expecting me to know something that there is no way I could have known without you telling me. It’s totally fair for you to be upset with me right now. Yep, super fair.” You throw your arms up. And men loved complaining about how women always expected *them* to be psychic.

“Y/N…” He grimaces as reason and logic finally begin to kick in. “It’s just that you were gone so long, and then I find you two all chummy. I just...”

“No. No. No. Is that why you came over and felt the need to whip your dick out? It wasn’t because you missed me. It was because you didn’t want another man to enjoy my company, right?” Needing to calm yourself, you grab his stapler and begin methodically clicking it over and over again, watching as the unused staples fall out and onto the ground.

“At this point, I think I’ve shown you time and time again that I’m yours in every way possible. I don’t want anyone else, you exceptionally talented ignoramus. I’m not looking for another fucking man. You are the only one I want.” You keep clicking the stapler.

"Then what’s stopping you from moving in with me? Why do you keep denying me your sweet presence in my home? You calm me, baby. Do you - do you not want me the way I want you?” Hands in his pockets, his eyes stray to the floor.

Your eyes stray to the paperweight on his desk. No, you couldn’t brain him with it, as much as you might have liked to. Instead you choose to close the distance between your bodies.

“Andrew Barber, look at me damn you.” You wait until he complies before continuing. “Listen to me. I have a lease. That I pay. Monthly. It is not breakable at this time. You want to discuss moving in together five months from now when it is up, then let’s do it. I’m all ears.” You press your mouth to his, groaning when you feel his big, hard body finally yield against your own.

You pull away. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore. I know how possessive you feel over me, how much you want me. I feel possessive over you, too. All of the time. Whenever I see you on television, every time, my brain screams ‘That’s my man right there! That’s my baby doing his damn thing! And boy, is he fine!’ You brush your nose against his.

“Really?” His deep voice breathes out.

“Yes, you ridiculous man! You want to possess me, baby? You want to own me so no one like Jameson ever has even a chance of touching me? Is that what you want?” Andy nods against as his hand goes to cup cheek. “Then take me right here. Take me right here in your office so you can smell me, smell us, any time you want.” You bite his lip before tugging it into your mouth and sucking on it, making him moan. “Any time you need it, Daddy.”

He looks down at you as something feral takes over his features. His large, rough hands go to the top of your dress. “Ah, ah, big guy. Don’t you dare rip this dress. Not here. At home is fine, okay? I’ll give you a one time pass.” You couldn’t believe you were actively volunteering your clothing for the shredder pile…

Andy picks you up immediately, slamming you back against a nearby wall. His hand goes to cup the back of your head to cushion the impact. The skirt of your dress is rucked up your hips, with your help. One of your heels heels flies off, not that you care. “Yes, Daddy.” You purr, licking his cheek. “Take your pussy the way you need.”

He snatches off your panties, quickly bringing them to his nose and inhaling deeply. “These belong to me now.” He growls. “Just like my baby.”

“Yes, Andy. Yes - oooh!” He enters you in one swift, solid thrust. Somehow your thighs end up dangling helplessly over his biceps, which allows him to go deep. Deeper than any man has ever been. The way he fucks you, the way his hips piston in and out of you, Andrew Barber is like an animal unleashed. “My pussy.” He snarls against the heated skin of your throat. “My girl!”

“Yes, Andy. Yes. Daddy.” You can’t help but sob with each rough thrust. “Shiiiit! Take me how you need it.” He keeps going, angling his hips and circling them in just the right way so he can find your spot. “Ooooh…ungh!”

When he finally makes contact with that special spongy spot inside of you, you damn near lose it. So much in fact that he’s forced to gag you with your own panties while he works you over. Because he doesn’t slow down, oh no.

“That’s right, baby girl.” He growls in your ear, before biting the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, which makes you let out a garbled moan through the fabric in your mouth. “Daddy knows he’s fucking you rough.” He gives you two hard thrusts for emphasis. “I know.” Your arms remain wrapped tight around his thick neck as you mewl and whine with every bounce on his dick. “I swear when I get you home tonight, I’ll take you nice and slow, baby. I’ll love all over you.”

You cry out through your gag, your nails raking over his back. Your own face buries itself in the crook his neck as you sob out your cries of pleasure. Daddy always made you feel so good.

“Cum for me, baby. Daddy knows how close you are. Cum for me please.” You cry out again, feeling as your walls clench around him and your toes curl. He rips the panties from your mouth. “Be my good girl and do it.” He orders.

“Da-daddy I - ohh nngh mutherfucking fuck!” You cry out as your orgasm washes over you. Wave after fucking wave. It only intensifies when you feel and hear Andy follow. His hot, wet spend fills you up, making him shake with every uncontrolled jerk of his hips.

You remain in position for a moment, both of you attempting to catch your breath. Finally, you take it upon yourself to lean down and kiss his cheek before whispering: “I love you, Daddy. But can we please go home now?”

“Yes, baby girl. I think Daddy has some serious apologizing to do.” Without setting you down, Andy repositions you so that you’re tucked securely in his arms. “I’m going to take us out the back, baby.”

Fully sated, you begin to drift off. “And please never forget that I love you too.” He whispers into your hair. “I have from the moment we met. And I don’t plan on stopping any time soon.”

“Likewise.” You respond with a drowsy mumble. “Now home, Andy.”

END

#Chris Evans #chris evans x black!reader #chris evans smut #andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber black reader #chris evans woc!reader #andy barber woc!reader #chris evans imagines #chis evans fanfic #andy barber imagines #andy barber fanfic

1K notes · View notes

moeitsu · 23 days

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: A fisher of men and A strange encounter. Ao3 Wattpad Ch.1 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10 Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 2 - The Snow Is On The Grass Again

The chill of May lingered as Kate set up camp near the riverbank, where patches of snow still clung to the ground. With the water icy cold, bathing was out of the question, but she found comfort in the soothing melody of the flowing stream. Nearby, Lorena grazed peacefully as Kate hummed a tune and cast her line, hoping for a catch to satisfy her hunger.

It had been two weeks since her stagecoach heist with Arthur and Hosea. Since then, Seamus hasn’t given her any more dubious tasks, and she hasn’t seen the two men either. She went back to being a ranch hand for a bit until she told Seamus it was time she moved on again. She followed the river south until she found a suitable spot to set up camp for the night.

It was a beautiful sunny day, but still chilly enough for a jacket. "It's cold, but at least the fish don't seem to mind," Kate remarked to herself as she felt a strong tug on her fishing line. With a flick of her wrist, she hooked the fish and began reeling it in, “Cmon now don’t fight too hard,” she mused to herself.

Lorena whinnied for attention "easy, girl," Kate murmured, as she made a noise behind her again. "Let me pull this in first." Suddenly, the quiet scene shattered as Lorena squealed in fear, her hooves pounding the ground. Kate's heart raced as she spun around, spotting a small copperhead slithering toward her mare.

"Sh-shhh, it's alright, it's just a snake," Kate reassured, her voice trembling slightly. But Lorena, in a state of panic, bolted downstream. With a grunt, Kate abandoned her fishing pole and chased after her horse. "Lorena! It's okay, girl, you're alright!" she called out, her voice echoing over the rushing water.

Though reluctant to admit it, Kate knew this wasn't the first time Lorena had been spooked. Usually, the mare's restlessness signaled impending danger, but snakes remained her Achilles' heel. It was a fear Kate couldn't rid her beloved horse of, even if she tried. Not that she ever would.

As they rounded the bend of the river, Kate lost sight of Lorena, but the mare's hoofprints remained etched in the sand. With a silent prayer, she pressed on, hoping her companion hadn't ventured too far.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

"Think this spot looks good, Uncle Arthur," chirped the little boy from his saddle as they neared the riverbank's edge.

"I think you’re right Jack. Let's give it a shot and see if we can reel in some fish," Arthur replied, guiding Belle to the sandy shore and helping Jack dismount.

Taking the smaller fishing pole from Arthur, Jack asked, "Where should we stand?"

"Right by the shoreline, just follow me," Arthur directed, leading Jack to the water's edge. "See those ripples? That's where you'll want to cast your line. Just aim for that, and you'll snag 'em."

“I wanna try!” He exclaimed impatiently while Arthur baited their lines with cheese.

"Okay kiddo, watch me. Hold the line over your shoulder like this," Arthur demonstrated, guiding Jack's movements. "Now, swing it forward smoothly, using your wrist, not your elbow."

Jack mimicked his uncle's actions eagerly. "Like this?"

"Exactly! Well done, Jack. Now, all we do is wait for a fish to take the bait," Arthur said proudly, as Jack beamed up at him, standing closer by his side.

As Arthur watched Jack with a mixture of pride and guilt, he realized how long it had been since they'd spent quality time together. Since their escape from Blackwater, life had been a whirlwind of tasks assigned by Dutch and taking care of the camp, leaving little room for personal time. He was about to leave camp again when Abigail asked if Arthur would watch Jack for her. Dutch would most likely make a comment about it later, but at the moment he couldn't care.

After a minute of peaceful silence, Jack looked up at him again with a curious expression. "Uncle Arthur, can the fish see us?"

Arthur chuckled at the unexpected question. "Well, not exactly like how you see me. It's a bit blurry for them, I reckon," he replied, scratching his head at the complexity of explaining fish vision to a four-year-old.

"Oh, okay. Can they hear us then?" Jack fired another question.

"Pretty much the same, I suppose," Arthur replied with a grin. "They can hear us, but not as clear as you and I can hear each other. Why all the questions, Jack?"

"Do fish talk?" Jack pressed on, undeterred by his uncle's attempt to change the subject.

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "Well, Jack, do other animals talk?" he countered, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Jack paused for a moment, pondering the question. "Hmm, nope. Can't think of any," he admitted.

"Exactly. So, no, fish don't talk," Arthur affirmed, looking down at Jack, who seemed lost in thought, gazing at the grasses behind them.

"Uncle Arthur, I'm bored," Jack suddenly declared, breaking the silence.

Arthur let out a quiet sigh, realizing his attempt at fishing with his young nephew hadn't been the most thrilling activity. "Yeah, I figured as much," he muttered to himself. Louder, he addressed Jack, "You know what? Why don't you go explore? Just stay close to me, alright?" But before Arthur could finish his sentence, Jack darted off toward a nearby pool of rocks.

As Arthur continued fishing, lost in his own thoughts, he heard the loud approach of hoofbeats. Instinctively, he jumped to intercept the approaching stranger before they could draw too close to him and Jack. To his surprise, the horse charging toward him was unmistakably Kate's, riderless and wild.

"Ain’t that Kate's horse?" Arthur muttered to himself in disbelief, raising his hands in a futile attempt to calm the agitated mare. "Easy, girl, it's alright," he murmured soothingly.

Jack, drawn by the commotion, hurried to join Arthur, his eyes wide with excitement. "Whoa! Where'd that horse come from?" he exclaimed.

"Stay behind me, Jack. She's spooked, and I don't want her to accidentally harm you," Arthur cautioned. As he tried to assess the situation he recognized it was indeed Kate's horse but was unable to recall its name. Peering down the riverbank where the horse had emerged, he found no sign of its owner.

With gentle words and a steady hand, Arthur coaxed the horse into submission, finally gaining control of the reins. "What kinda trouble you in, girl?" he wondered aloud, stroking her snout.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Kate followed the hoof prints of her mare, she rounded another bend in the river and finally spotted her beloved horse. "Oh thank god," she murmured, letting out a relieved sigh. Right before realizing there were two figures accompanying Lorena—a burly man and a small boy, both appearing to have been fishing.

About to call out her gratitude, Kate stopped as the man turned, revealing himself to be Arthur, the same man from the stagecoach incident. Surprised yet somewhat pleased to see him, memories of their previous encounter flooded back, particularly their pleasant conversation during the ride back from Carmody Dell. They had talked about their horses and she knew Lorena was in good hands with him.

"Mr. Morgan! I can't thank you enough. I hope she didn't cause you any trouble," Kate called out, jogging to meet them. Arthur looked up at the sound of his name, visibly relieved at her arrival, replied, "Miss McCanon! I was a little worried when I saw your horse come through here without you."

"She got spooked by a snake, that's all," Kate explained, petting Lorena affectionately. "She's a bit dramatic, though," she added with a hint of amusement.

As a small face peeked around Arthur's frame, Kate smiled warmly, realizing it must be his son. "Your horse is very pretty, miss," the boy remarked shyly.

“Thank you, would you like to pet her?” She asked with a smile, the boy nodded, “she’s a little shy so just go slow, let her come to you.” The child looked up at Arthur and only approached once he nodded a go ahead.

"Getting tired of Seamus' dubious stagecoach business, I take it?" Arthur teased, prompting laughter from Kate. Their banter flowed effortlessly, she found Arthur refreshingly different from most men she encountered. He had a playful and protective aura, with a bit of something else that made her incredibly intrigued. Or maybe it was just because he was handsome.

Kate smiled and shook her head with a laugh, “not quite. Just about time I move on I guess. I was only passin’ through. I see you’re still here enjoying the countryside though, haven’t given up on robbing stagecoaches yet?” She teased back.

Before Arthur could respond, the boy blurted out, "Uncle Arthur and my daddy robbed a—" Arthur swiftly intervened, diverting attention away from the boy's revelation.

"Kids have wild imaginations," Arthur chuckled nervously, steering the conversation back. "So, um, where are you heading? Camping around here?" he inquired.

So Jack is his nephew, Kate smiled to herself, these two were adorably entertaining, her heart panged slightly at the memory of what her life could have looked like. Her grief still makes itself present in the cracks of her being even after all these years. "Just going west, no place in particular. My camp is just downstream," she replied, gesturing in the direction she came from.

Jack tugged on Arthur’s sleeve and motioned for him to bend down, with a slight roll of his eyes he kneeled down to his level, “can we invite her back to camp?” The boy whispered not so quietly.

“Jack you can’t go inviting every stranger you meet back to camp,” he spoke sternly, “you know we’re on the run, we gotta be safe around here.” He added quietly, the boy looked up sadly but nodded in understanding. Arthur entertained the thought of inviting Kate back to the camp, he knew she was taking on odd jobs and constantly on the move. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she stayed for a few days. He would never admit it, but he was a little disappointed they didn't cross paths again in the two weeks since the heist.

“Ah, hell, why not” he breathed, turning back to Kate, “It’ll get pretty cold tonight, winters still not through in these parts. My camp is up on Horseshoe overlook,” he took his hat off bashfully, “If you’d like a warm fire, and some good company, you're welcome to join us.”

As Kate was about to respond to Arthur's invitation, the rhythmic thud of hooves interrupted them. Two men in detective uniforms descended toward the water, casting a shadow over their gathering. "What a touching and complex circumstance we have here," one of the men remarked as he dismounted, while the other leveled his rifle at Arthur. Sensing danger, Kate instinctively stayed close to her horse.

Protectively, Arthur positioned himself in front of Jack as the man approached. "Arthur, is it? Arthur Morgan?" he inquired, his tone heavy with accusation.

"Who are you?" Arthur countered, his voice tight with tension.

"Yes, Arthur Morgan," the man echoed, “Van Der Linde’s most trusted associate, orphaned street kid seduced by that maniac's silver tongue. And matures into a degenerate murderer.” He finished.

Arthur's tension escalated, leaving Kate astounded. She harbored suspicion that there was more to him than met the eye, but the revelation of being wanted for murder caught her completely off guard. Despite the shock, she found herself even more intrigued by the supposed outlaw.

“I’m agent Milton, and this is agent Ross,” he gestured to the other gentleman holding the rifle. “We’re with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. It's nice to finally meet you,” he looked over at Kate and added, “and you as well miss. Who might you be?”

"Madeleine McCanon," Kate responded, opting for a false name to distance herself from whatever was about to unfold. Agent Milton pressed further, questioning her connection to Arthur.

“Do you know this man?” He inquired, but before she could answer he continued, “because we sure know him.” His tone, that of a detective accustomed to authority, carried a hint of arrogance, as if he relished the prospect of confrontation.

“Oh do you?” Arthur said coldly.

“He’s a wanted man, Miss McCanon,” he said, turning to face her, “There's five thousand dollars for his head alone.” Kate glanced a look at Arthur but made no sign of her surprise.

Arthur chuckled, "Five thousand dollars? For me?" He glanced around casually. "Can I turn myself in?" he quipped.

Agent Milton's expression remained stern. "We want Van der Linde. A man matching his description robbed a train belonging to Leviticus Cornwall a few weeks back."

Kate's memory jolted as she recalled reading about the robbery in the paper. It was carrying money to fund a new oil rig off the Wapiti reservation. Thousands of dollars were stolen, but none of the passengers on the train were injured.

“Ain't that a little old fashioned nowadays?” Arthur attempted, trying to sound innocent.

“Apparently not,” Milton deadpanned, “this is my offer Mr. Morgan: You bring us Van der Linde. And you have my word you won't swing.”

“Oh, I ain't gonna swing anyways agent Milton. You see, I haven't done anything wrong, aside from not playing the game by your rules.” He argued condescendingly.

Milton's tone grew sterner. "I appreciate this society."

“You enjoy being a rich man's toy!” Arthur snapped back.

“You people venerate savagery, and you will die savagely,” Milton emphasized.

Arthur's voice dripped with defiance. "All of us are gonna die someday, agent, some sooner than others."

With that, Milton turned on his heel and walked toward his horse. "Good day to you, Mr. Morgan," he said as he departed. "And if you know what's good for you, Miss McCanon, stay far away from this man. Unless you want to end up dead like his friend Mac Callander."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Arthur cursed under his breath, " fuck ." He turned to face Kate, Jack looking between them, unsure of what to do next.

Feeling like a complete fool for inviting Kate back to camp, Arthur realized he had just given away Dutch's whereabouts and Milton exposed their crimes to her. He had hoped she would be safe for a night or two at camp without knowing their true identities, but now, with everything at stake, he wrestled with the decision. The lives of his gang were paramount, but involving an innocent woman in their mess weighed heavily on his conscience. He would never force her, but with everything at stake now he hoped she would still come back with him. Or else she might go inform the authorities of their whereabouts.

“So, railway workers from the North huh?” Kate questioned, breaking him from his thoughts.

“If you’ll let me explain miss-” he started, unsure what was about to come out of his mouth.

With the revelation of Arthur's true identity and the dangers it presented, Kate found herself torn between fear and curiosity. While her instincts screamed at her to flee from these outlaws, there was an inexplicable pull towards Arthur. Despite the fear gnawing at her, she couldn't shake the connection she felt with him. There was something in his eyes, a vulnerability masked by his tough exterior, that resonated with her own struggles.

"I'll come with you," she said, her voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling within her. "I've never been one to shy away from a little danger, and besides," she added with a wry smile, "I've always had a knack for finding trouble."

Arthur looked at her, a mixture of surprise and gratitude flickering in his eyes. He knew the risks she was taking by choosing to stand by him, but he also couldn't deny the feeling of relief that washed over him.

His gaze softened and he bent down to lift Jack up onto his saddle, “well, it’s getting late. Want to head back with us?”he asked, settling himself in behind the boy.

Kate nodded and answered, “I’d be happy to. Let me grab my things from camp and I’ll meet you back here,” she replied, gracefully mounting Lorena.

With those words, she cantered off downstream, disappearing into the fading light.

“Why did those men ask where Uncle Dutch is?” Jack questioned, his voice tinged with innocence.

“Because… well, those are disagreeable men. And they want to hurt Dutch.”Arthur explained, his tone grave.

“Like they hurt Mac?” Jack's voice was small, filled with concern.

Arthur hesitated, then replied, “Ahh don't worry about Mac, I’m sure he’s alright wherever he is. They were just trying to scare us is all,” he patted Jack's shoulder reassuringly., “the world is full of disagreeable men. That’s why you got all of us, to protect you from folk like them.”

“Is that why you invited Miss McCanon back to camp, to protect her from the bad guys too?” he asked innocently.

Arthur chuckled, masking his uncertainty. "Uh, yeah, something like that," he replied, the corners of his lips twitching. He wasn't sure why exactly he invited Kate to stay with him, sure, he didn't like the idea of her being alone in the cold. But why did he care? Something about the woman intrigued him, and it wasn't just her pretty horse.

Unexpectedly, Jack's voice piped up again. "Uncle Arthur, what does 'fuck' mean?"

Arthur's laughter bubbled up, realizing the boy listens more than he cares to let on. "It means your mother will slap me if she hears you say that word," he joked, relieved for the distraction.

At that moment, the steady beat of hooves announced Kate's return.

#arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews #john marston #jack marston #rdr2 fanfic #fluff #angst #x reader #oc x canon

26 notes · View notes

1-800-imagines · 2 years

Text

sick part 2 | nate jacobs

part one here!

(tags later)

nate had gone to the doctor the next day, giving you a chance to go home, shower and get some homework done. the doctor said that he wouldn’t be contagious in 24 hours after starting the meds so you both thought it’d be best to keep away until then.

that was a moot point as it turned out. the day after nate’s doctors appointment, you felt like shit and you were burning up. you were supposed to go to nate’s that evening to watch a movie in bed with him but that wasn’t gonna happen now.

‘i can’t come over tonight bubs :(‘ you texted, curling up in a million blankets to try and quell the chills.

your phone lit up right away, ‘why not??’ then it began to ring, before you could even say anything nate asked, “what’s wrong? are you upset?”

“no baby, i’m sick. i guarantee i have strep.” you sighed, “i’d go to the doctor but my moms still out of town and i don’t feel good enough to drive.”

“i’ll take you.” he stated, “get ready. i’ll have my mom make the appointment with our doctor. don’t worry about it.”

you groaned, “nate, you don’t have to do that. i can wait till she gets home in a couple days.”

“stop arguing. you took care of me. let me take care of you.” and with that, he hung up. you huffed and rolled back over in your bed, pulling the blanket back over you. he was right.

you had planned to get up and get dressed, but you actually drifted right back to sleep.

nate was concerned when you didn’t answer. he had texted you 4 times and called you twice. he had then walked to the door and rang the doorbell twice. deciding it probably was an emergency, he used the spare key you had given him.

“baby?” he called into the empty house. he walked upstairs to your room and saw a lump of blankets in the middle of your bed. he cracked a smile and sat on the edge, “sweetheart, i thought you were gonna get ready for me.”

“fell asleep, you woke me up.” you pouted, peaking your head out from under.

nate brushed his hand over your forehead and pushed your hair back, “how are you under all these blankets? you’re burning up.”

“i have a fever, i don’t know how high,” you frowned. it was a good thing nate was here. it was taking effort just for you to move.

nate frowned, “okay, come on. doctor time.” he bent over and picked you and a few of your blankets with you.

“need to get ready.” you grumbled. you hadn’t changed your clothes or even brushed your teeth.

he shook his head and brought you to your bathroom, “you’re a worst patient than i am, baby.” he put you down and kissed your forehead, “get ready and i’ll grab you some fresh clothes.”

it took double the time it normally would have for you to brush your teeth and hair but nate was patient as ever. he even helped you get dressed in the clothes he picked out which were sweatpants and a hoodie of his that he had been wearing into the house.

——

after the doctor you arguably felt shittier. you did indeed have strep which made nate feel bad as he knew he was the cause.

“nate, it’s fine. my immune system just doesn’t work like it should.” you mumbled, crawling into nate’s bed.

he had brought you to his house since your mom was still out of town. nate’s mom also insisted as she wanted to return the favor by taking care of you.

“yeah well i still feel bad. you have it worse than me.” he scooted you over so he could get in bed next to you.

“bad news tho jacobs. antibiotics make my birth control pill not work. no sex for 10 days.”

“like you’d be up for having sex now anyway.” he mused, smiling.

“of course i want to rail my sexy nurse. who do you think i am?” you grinned and wrapped your arms around him, settling in.

“let’s just get your tonsils to shrink and then we’ll talk babe.” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“fine. fine.” you said, too tired to even joke argue. and with that nate kissed your forehead and you drifted to sleep.

#nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #nate x reader #euphoria #euphoria imagine #euphoria imagines #nate jacobs fic

589 notes · View notes

imagine-lcorp · 1 year

Text

You Make a Fool of Death with your Beauty (One Shot)

A/N: Well, hello little beans, I know we’re now past the Halloween/Day of the Dead celebrations but of course I’m still posting this little piece of writing. Took me long enough but it is here. Inspired of course by my favorite band ever F&TM and one of my favorite books ever, Death with Intermitions by Jose Saramago, I decided to pull something nice, or at least I tried. Enjoy your reading! Lots of love to you my darlings.

Lena Luthor x Grim Reaper!R//Word Count: 3,124

-------------------------------------------------------

Always since the beginning of time, always since the beginning of life.

How you came to be was a mystery you had never cared to discover. The fact that you were, that you existed, that you had purpose, was enough.

You were alone, yes, but you needed no one. Or so you thought.

The first time you saw her, you hadn't pay much attention. She was still an infant, young and innocent enough that her eyes could catch a glimpse of the world beyond, and too inexperienced to understand the hardness of the life she was barely starting to live. Too young still to understand what and who you were, to truly understand why you had walked straight into the sea. The same way her mother had done moments before.

When you emerged from the water and, in an strange fashion that would be repeated someday, you had turned to look at green emerald eyes looking right back at you. Confusion, fear, and sadness had pooled in her eyes as she understood only you would come back to the shore.

There had been no pity, no remorse, no anguish in your heart for you had none.

However, and it was also a strange occurrence, part of you hoped you would see those green emerald eyes again in their final day, filled with something else entirely. You would see eyes that had seen the world and its wonders, and marveled at its beauty, carrying beautiful images instead of what they had witnessed in your presence.

You carried the soul of the mother away, disappearing from her sight until it was meant for you to return and see what had become of those green emerald eyes in, what you dare to hope again, would be a long long time.

Little did you know you would see them sooner than later.

Same jeweled eyes brimming with tears as she tried in vain to call for a young man whose life and destiny, you discovered later in the endless annals of the universe, could had been as brilliant as the stars above, were it not for the malice of his peers.

You had reached him in his final agony. When his body, invaded by his own creation, could not take the pressure and the pain.

If you had been able to pass judgement on his case, you would have mused how it did little good for mortals to play with such inventions. But you were no judge and thus could not pass such judgement on him or his life. So you waited patiently for him to take his last breath, taking his soul with ease when he was done, as he did not protest like many others.

You felt a string being pulled at the core of your being, after watching her silently cry as her heart was breaking for a second time. And again you hoped, as you crossed him to the light were all souls go, for those eyes to be filled with warmth.

It didn't take long for you to see them again. This time it was a boy that had brought you back to her.

Named after what many people believed to have been the first man ever created, he had tried to find a solution to his impeding problem.

You.

He had tried to help her. For his sake. For the sake of his dead brother. For the sake of humanity. Playing with an element brought to her from beyond the edge of their world, manipulating and experimenting with it's unknown nature. He had put himself under her scrutiny with the promise of a future, attempting to amend a mistake that wasn't his, trying to pay for a debt he thought was his.

You loomed over him, witnessing what could have been of him as a new ichor ran inside his veins, before his mortal body gave in. For the first time in all your existence, a sigh of disappointment escaped you and it was truly a strange thing to happen.

The boy's protest, that came after he understood the nature of his circumstances, pulled you back to the task at hand.

In a unique voice, only for him to hear and understand, you had spoken, explaining his time on this realm was over. There was no use in fighting the obvious. He stopped his complaints when he asked about his brother. If he could find him beyond the light, only he could discover it, you had said, and feeling braver than he had ever been before, he followed you.

You passed by her side as you walked with him. The light in her teary eyes had not changed and, if anything, they seemed darker. Like a wild forest before the dawn. So, you went, hoping the sun would reach and illuminate them before coming back for her.

Then, you saw her for a third time.

You had no heart, but if you had had one you would have felt nothing still for the man that was about to die.

Egocentric, ambitious, arrogant, ruthless. He was all this and more in his final moments. Not even your shadow, hanging like a promise over him, made him reconsider his last words. Words filled with bile and poison, ready to sting, revealing secrets which were not his own.

He protested, of course, when you pulled his soul out of his body, and you added the word annoying to the list of his faults. He asked many questions, none of them you answered. He had been a proud man in life and so he was even after finding himself in your presence, showing nothing but indignation when you remained silent. Whatever awaited for him on the other side you did not care, and his passing had been tedious unlike any other before.

Only after he crossed the light, you dared to look at her.

You had no heart but if you had had one it would have ached for her.

For her broken trust, for her broken heart. For all the things that would shatter, all what she would break before becoming whole again.

The forest was burning and you could do nothing to put it at ease.

What would you find in her eyes the next time, you wondered, feeling heavy as you marched.

However, the strangest thing came to pass some time after that. Destiny was rewritten, erasing his brother's name from your accounts. He came back from the light, as if nothing had happened, and the world was anew. But your job was the same and, for the first time, you seemed to enjoy the idea of detaching his soul from his body one more time.

She crossed you mind, making you wonder if this new world would bring her a new destiny. One that was more generous and kind for her, who had lost so much already.

You received your answer shortly after.

She was agonizing when you arrived at her side.

You observed, lingering closer to her as you waited, the way she finally came to terms with her end. She knew you were coming and this fact did not frighten her. Her last words were that of comfort and honesty as she opened her heart like she had never done before. She was satisfied and with a smile on her lips before she closed her eyes forever.

When she found herself face to face with you, she didn't tremble like many others before and, unlike her son, she did not argue. She welcomed the light, fearless and poised, ready to find what would come next.

And so, you realized, you had taken another mother from her. Not because you wanted it but because it was your duty. Something that, for another first time, didn't bring you contentment.

You stood behind for a moment longer after her mother had passed, turning to look at her.

Once again, green eyes were brimming with tears.

Unconsciously, you took a step towards her. The shadow of a hand passed along her cheek, trying to wipe out a single tear streaming down her face. But the tear followed its path and your touch, cold on her skin, only made her shiver.

You were of little comfort and it bothered you, prompting from you a sound you didn't even know you could make.

Your little grunt startled her as she believed herself alone. It startled you too when green eyes turned sharply to look at you.

None of you said a word in the long moment that passed between you two. Both too surprised and confused to understand the nature of what was happening.

In her eyes you were still a shadow, faceless and phantasmal, but she still felt a speck of familiarity. An old memory resurfacing from the depths of her memory. An old ache reemerging from the bottom of her heart, which made the latest departure even harder. Her furrowed brows made you realize you had overstayed, long enough for her to actually perceive you.

As if suddenly remembering your responsibilities, you turned around and started to walk into the light. One step before reaching it, you stopped and lingered at its edge, not daring to take a step further.

There was something you wanted to say but you had no means of answering for you had no mouth. It was different when you talked with the dead. Your voice was meant for them and only for them, no need of lips or teeth or breath for them to understand you. At the other side of the veil it was that easy.

What did you wanted to say? You didn't know yet but you hoped you would know it in due time.

And so, the time came.

There's was magic in her blood. Magic so powerful it called for you.

You were pulled suddenly from the light and into a room illuminated by another kind of light, artificial and colder than the one you were used to, where an encrypted circle, with a language long forgotten, kept you confined.

"... and I summon you, Death, to do my biding." She exclaimed at the end of her chant with a strong voice.

"Who summons me?" You said with a hint of amusement that couldn't be noticed through the sound of a thousand voices coming from you. You had to admit it was quite the novelty.

"I'm Lena Luthor, and I shall be your master now." She declared.

"I have no master." You admitted. In all the millennia you had existed, there had been no one to answer to and you didn't think that was something that could be changed.

"I've bound you to this earth. If you wish to be freed, you must grant me my wish." She took a step towards you, a fierce look in her eyes.

Curiosity invaded you and you felt compelled to follow her little game.

"What is it that you desire?"

"I wish for my goddaughter to live." She declared and your surprise turned into concern and confusion.

"And what I'm supposed to do?"

"You won't take her life."

"I shall take her when it's time."

"You can't." She walked closer to the circle, desperation clear in her voice. "Not yet."

You didn't quite understand what was happening, so you reached beyond the veil, looking for answers.

A child was dying, fighting a strange sickness from a strange world. Her mothers couldn't do much and, even when a cure was in the process of being discovered, her diagnosis was not favorable. The little girl was suffering and the time to take her through the light was fast approaching.

"She's dying." You answered, feeling heavy once again.

Lena sighed. "You can't take her."

"I shall when it's time." You repeated.

"Haven't you taken enough already?" You saw her green eyes brimming again with tears as she raised her voice, and you felt a sting inside you.

"You think me responsible for their lives?" You asked.

"Who else then?" She brushed her tears before they could fall. "Tell me and I will summon them instead."

There was another sting, of something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

"You would do it just to save her?"

"I will." The fierceness in her voice never faltered.

"What do you offer me then?" You mused after a moment.

"Offer?" She furrowed her brows. "I have bound you."

"You have summoned my presence and bound it to this circle. Only that. I'm everywhere, all the time. You cannot prevent me from fulfilling my work just like you cannot stop the wind from blowing." You explained. These rituals were almost fun but they rarely worked for those who performed them. However, this time you wanted it to work. "I will take her in due time but if you so wish I can delay my visit. But beware, this gift comes with a price."

"My life." She swallowed, standing her ground like she was ready to fight. "You can have my life."

She looked at you with no hesitation. You could almost imagine the gears in her mind working. She was considered one of the most intelligent people in the world but she wasn't mad enough to think she could deceive you. Only you were foolish enough to change the course of someone else's destiny, all because she had called to you.

"Then I will have it." You looked at her, with something new moving inside you. "Three days."

Her goddaughter didn't die, although she did suffer for a while longer. Her sickness had taken a hold of her, making her agonize in the days to come in which only you could have ended it, but you had promised you wouldn't come. In that last day, the cure had finally been crafted and tested with positive result.

The child lived and it was time to collect what you too had been promised.

"Lena Luthor." You called with your voice echoing in the walls of her apartment.

She had been sitting on the floor, writing over the coffee table of her living room. Waiting as she knew you would come.

"The child lives." You said matter-of-factly.

"Yes." You saw her shiver as she raised her head, trying to find your figure around. "And I guess you have come to collect what is yours."

"I have."

"Then, I'm ready." She raised from the floor, looking around for you to look at.

She had prepared herself for that moment. During the three days that Esme had been ill, she had also tried to prepare everything before she had to depart. She had been signing her last will just before you had called. She didn't want to leave anything unsolved and, if she was going to leave with you that day, she was going to look at you in the eye with no fear.

"I'm ready." She repeated with a sigh, waiting for the inevitable.

"It's not your time." You answered, guessing where this was going.

She frowned. "You gave me three days for it."

"I gave the child three days, yes, in exchange for your life not your death. What use would I have for it if I had to take you with me?"

"You won't kill me."

"No."

"Then why are you here."

"Life." You said. "I wish to understand it."

"Understand life?"

"I've always been around." You said. "Never questioned my role and duty. Not once I've mourned those who parted, not once I've felt for them. Not once made deals with them."

"You made a deal with me." She kept looking for the source of your voice.

"I did." The echo of your voice reverberated in the room with strength. "I've seen you, Lena Luthor. Always been there at each of your goodbyes. I've seen what their loss has done to the light in your eyes, and I've wondered what it means."

"I don't think I can explain it." She mumbled.

"Try."

"It's not so easy." She said with a clearer voice. "Some things, to understand them, you need to experience them, live through them. You need to be...human."

When you didn't answer, she continued.

"We experience life mostly through our senses, our bodies. You would need one, at least, to barely scratch the surface of what it means to be alive."

"Then I shall get myself one." You finally answered.

Of all the things she had expected to happen, having to teach Death about its counterpart was not one of them. She didn't know if it was even possible. Would you change your mind if she failed?

Silence followed your conversation and Lena was left alone with her confusion, but not for long. The doorbell rang then, pulling her out of her thoughts. She walked to her door, a bit hesitant of what she might find behind it but she opened it nevertheless.

The face and the body she come to find standing in front of her was nothing like what she could have ever imagined.

Your eyes, real human eyes, finally looked into those emerald eyes looking right back, and the light in them seemed a bit brighter.

"It's you." She scanned you from head to toe, and it surprised her that the expression in your face was kind and expectant, as if you were already excited to be there.

"It's me." You said with a new voice, echoing with a single tone, and it surprised you how your new eyes perceived her.

It wasn't only the eyes but her brows, her forehead, her nose, her lips, her chin, her cheeks, her hair, and everything else, that made you want look at her and nothing else. You too had a mouth, lips, teeth, lungs to breath, but the words you had wanted to say were still far away from you.

So, you stood there for another moment until she asked the question that would start everything.

"How does it feel?"

"I..." It took a second for you to formulate your answer. "I feel."

For her, that was enough for a start.

"Then let's begin." She said stepping aside to let you in.

When you didn't, she figured out you weren't yet accustomed to such human interactions. So she took a steep closer to you, taking one of your hands and feeling it's warm finger around hers.

Suddenly, your heart, the one you now had, pounded fast and hard. A new voice at the back of your new head appeared, whispering a new truth.

You would see those eyes filled with wonder, you would say the words that you wanted to say. All in due time as you learned what it meant to be alive.

And from that moment on, you didn't have to be alone.

#lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x you #lena x you #lena x reader #one shot #you make a fool of death with your beauty #grim reaper #grim reaper reader #grim reaper!reader #death reader #reader as death #reader as grim reaper

183 notes · View notes

aldryrththerainbowheart · 1 year

Text

How I've missed you

Wait for me.

He said, mounting his horse and tipping his hat goodbye.

I’ll be back.

He said as he rode towards sunset. Until he was nothing more than a speck in the distance.

You’ll wait for him, but the question is how long? A month? A year? A decade? D was, after all, immortal, absolute. The time for him flows differently for you. One human lifespan is nothing but a blink of an eye for him.

You’ve never stayed in one place this long. You’re a nomad, drifting from one corner of Frontier to another. It made your feet twitch, aching to be on the road once more. But you couldn’t. How else he’ll find you? If he’d even look for you. You shook your head to shake off that thought. You can’t let them slink their way into your heart. D would never abandon you, ha made a promise and he keeps his promises.

Your deprecating musing was interrupted when you reached the door from your caravan. You ran your fingers over the cracked paint before reaching for the doorknob. A small, but cozy interior of your lodgings greeted you. Old, patterned scarf pinned over one wall, a small tin stove, a bunk in the far end, candles, and colorful trinkets hanging everywhere. It wasn’t much but you loved this place. The wheels attached to your home gave you the feeling that you can leave wherever you can and whenever you want.

You settled a bag with a piece of bread and cheese you’d managed to purchase for that little coin you had. When you heard squeaking followed by scratching of small claws over the worn wooden floor. Slicing off a bit of cheese, you crooned at the small thing creeping its way toward you.

You found Lettie when They were digging through your garbage in the middle of the night. You started leaving them with leftovers. One day you came home and found them lying at the foot of your bed, waiting for you. You have a pet now, you guess… Even though you have no idea what Lettie is, or even its gender. Just another creation of genetic tinkering done by Nobles.

“He’s gonna love you, I’m sure.” You told the creature as you ran your fingers over the sleek fur. It doesn’t respond, of course, but no matter. Just like with D, you don’t always need him to add to your conversations. You can do all the talking by yourself.

Slipping your hands under Lettie’s belly, you lifted them and carried them to your bunk. You flopped onto the bed and held Lettie close to your chest, before lifting them above your head. The animal's glossy eyes stared dispassionately at you.

“Look at you, getting all mopey.” Your voice took a high-pitched quality to resemble Lettie’s squeaks and, as you enunciate the words, you bounce the creature as if it’s talking to you.

“What do you know! I’m allowed to miss him every once in a while!”

“What would D say if he knew you were so anxious for his return?”

“Hush, I know he comes back.” You settled Lettie back on your chest, the animal was finally allowed to rest.

After a beat of silence, you whispered, “He always came back.”

You were woken up by a loud banging on the caravan’s door. You slogged towards the door whilst trying to blink away the blurriness in your vision. A distressed face of one of the villagers greeted you. It was the old man Johnson, he owned a farm on the outskirts of the town.

“Thank Krist! I thought you were never gonna answer!” The man spitted at you, face ruddy and eyes bulging.

“It better be good Jonny.” You grumbled passively at him.

“Harpies!” The man choked out. “A whole swarm of them!! They’re tearing apart my stock. I was…ah…

The farmer didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence as you walked out of the door with a golden blade in your hand. Johnson stumbled after you, eyes trained on the blade. Where in the seven hell did gypsy like you get their hands on such a weapon?? It was engraved with strange symbols with the dragon's head at the base of the blade, blood-red ruby eyes piercing into him.

You arrived at the ranch at the exact moment when one harpy clutched a frightened sheep in its claws. Just as the night perpetrator lifts the poor animal into the sky, a soft swoosh of a blade sings through the air. The harpy falls down with a blood-curdling screech, which alerts other harpies. They leave the flock and train their beady eyes on you. With a steadying exhale, you readjust your stance and point the sword in their direction, the golden blade gleaming in the moonlight.

The harpies all dive onto you in unison. However, their talons only grab air as you propel yourself upwards, your upper body twisting clockwise to reach as far as possible with your sword. Some harpies dodge, others drop on grass like swatted flies. Johnson was so taken by the sight in front of him that he hadn’t realized he remained alone on the pasture. Nor did he notice a dark figure approaching him slowly but steadily, broad shoulders draped in a dark cloak casting a long shadow over him.

You were running out of stamina and you knew it. Your movements were slower, your senses grew more sluggish. You cried out in pain as one of Harpie’s talons dug into your shoulder whilst the other aimed for your neck. Luckily, you managed to lodge the blade between the two of you. A bead of sweat ran down your neck as you felt the strength leaving your arms, beasts maw moving closer and closer to you.

The beast has never learned your taste, for its head has been severed from its body before it could notice. Same for the other harpy, which finally made the imminent danger disappear, at least for today. You grunted as the sharp claws slipped out of the fresh wound and swayed on your legs dangerously. It took you several minutes of labored breathing and cursing before you registered the presence of another in front of you.

When you looked up, you almost fell down on your knees for good. There, illuminated by the moon, was D. Serene and unmoving as ever. Spine straight while his sword rested in his relaxed grip, still stained with harpies blood. You stared at him for a good minute or two, before wobbly walking towards him. That walk became, a somewhat sloppy run, and with the remaining strength, you propelled yourself forward and jumped into the hunter's arms. D simply extended his arms towards you, knowing better than to try and fight your theatrics. The impact from your bodies colliding made an ‘ooff’ puff out of your throat, but you haven’t released your clutch on him. After a moment of silence, you spent feverishly clutching onto him with fingers tangled in his hair, you untangle yourself from him far enough to be able to look at his face. You immediately took it into your hands and started examining the dhampir closely, making sure there wasn’t a single scratch on him.

Once you were satisfied with the results the dhampir was left open to your affections. You kissed his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. Inch by inch you peppered his face with kisses while he held you hugged tightly to him. D’s lips twisted as he tried to fight a smile tugging at his mouth. He couldn’t fight the quiet giggle that slipped from them.

And the farmer could only stand there and gape in awe. Out of all the things he saw tonight, A dhampir being smothered with affection with the softest of smiles would be the most unbelievable of them all.

#vampire hunter d x you #vampire hunter d x reader #vampire hunter d

147 notes · View notes

elcondorpasas · 2 years

Note

Hey can i have a request with Eddie, where you’re Dustin’s cousin who came to stay at his house for the whole summer and he present you to the hellfire club. Maybe the reader will be a nerd like them and enjoy playing to d&d 😊 For the prompt i would like the 14 from physical. I would like to be a fluff but with some mention of smut , i hope it’s okay with you 😊💗

SUMMER FLING | eddie munson x henderson!reader

Physical, 14. "The taste of your lips is like a drug."

request a prompt here ~> 🫡

summary Dustin Henderson's older cousin finally comes to visit for the summer and comes to find Dustin has been holding back some crucial information about his friends, especially Eddie Munson.

warnings None, except for some extreme cheese at the end.

a/n sorry this took a minute! work has kicked my ass this week and i didn't get as much time to write like i wanted to. i hope this is okay :) also i know nothing about dnd, sorry! this also wasn't proof read!

----------------

Something your mother forgot to mention was how unbelievably flat Hawkins, Indiana is. You had considered its farming town qualities, but hadn’t really given it that much thought until now. Now, as you stood waiting at the bus station for your aunt to come pick you up. The near 20 hour bus ride from Colorado had your bones feeling like one more pothole would make them crumble to dust. You made a mental note to call your mother later and let her know that you would go without new shoes and clothes for your upcoming freshman semester at college if that means you can fly home instead of another bus ride at the end of this month.

A car horn pulled you from your thoughts. Looking towards the sound, you were not met with your Aunt Claudia’s station wagon, but rather an expensive looking BMW. Your cousin, Dustin, leaning out of the passenger seat with the biggest grin. He was your only cousin, and you his. Neither of you had siblings. This meant, no matter the age gap, you two were as thick as thieves from the moment Dustin could babble out barely incoherent sentences.

A smile broke across your face as you grabbed your bags, that you probably overpacked, off the ground and bounded towards the car. You heard the pop of the trunk unlatching. Dustin climbed out of the car to come and help load your bags. “Hey cuz,” Dustin giggled, haphazardly bumping into you. “You seem pretty happy for it being 8am on a Friday,” You mused. “Hey, it’s not every summer you come to visit me. Christ, woman, I’m tired of that dry mountain air messing with my asthma every summer,” Dustin chides back causing you to laugh. Typically Dustin and Aunt Claudia would come to visit you and your family in Colorado. Aunt Claudia, always claiming how suffocating Hawkins could be, loved getting out of town for a few weeks.

After finishing with your bags, you properly turned to your younger cousins and pulled him into a hug. “Well, you better have some cool stuff lined up for us. I’m not trying to spend my summer sitting around your house all day while Aunt Claudia pries into my love life.” You rolled your eyes, only half serious. “And what love life would that be?” Dustin’s quip only slightly stings, but you mainly laugh it off. Just as you’re about to poke fun at him about Suzie, a voice interrupts you.

“Great, both the Hendersons are smart asses.”

You turn to see what, or rather who, you can only describe as one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen. Tall, great hair, and an unimpressed look on his face. Your eyes travel down to the green vest he’s wearing with a name tag that says “Hello, I’m Steve” with the name Steve scrawled in messy handwriting. Oh, so THIS is Steve…

“If you two are done now, I really gotta get to work,” Steve didn’t even wait for you to respond as he got back in his car.

Dustin reached up to close the trunk, “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just mad he got stood up last night.”

“Stood up? Him?” You asked incredulously.

“Oh geez, not you too. Look, you can have whatever summer romance you want, but leave Steve alone. I’ve got plans for this summer, dammit! Plans that don’t include watching you and Steve swap spit.” Dustin huffed and moved back towards the passenger seat. You followed close behind and got in the car.

The ride to Dustin’s house wasn’t nearly as long as it felt. The tension of a moody Steve and a hyperactive Dustin nearly suffocating you and causing an awkward drive. Anytime Dustin would try to initiate a conversation with Steve, he’d shut him down, especially when Dustin would allude to Steve’s carousel of dates. Dustin explained that with summer upon you, the majority of girls were off on vacation with their families. This left poor Steve to cycle back through some girls he’s already had a go with. You couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that Steve got stood up by a girl he’d forgotten to call when he first dated her. Steve indulged some of your questions, however. Albeit, the answers were pretty short. You made a mental note that he probably would not be your go to for a summer fling. Cute..but too moody for me.

After Steve had dropped you and Dustin off, he sped off to what you could only assume was the job he kept muttering he was late for. You sorta hoped whoever Robin, that they wouldn’t be too pissed at him. You and Dustin lugged your luggage to the guest room and Dustin gave you a bit to unpack and get settled. He said he had to go “get some things in order” before you hung out later today. Whatever that means.

You unpacked a bit and when you heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, you went out to greet your Aunt Claudia who called your name immediately upon entering the house.

“Oh, there you are, sweetie! How was your bus ride? I told your mother to let me pay for your flight. Pretty, young girls like you should not be traveling alone on buses! Did you have any preference for dinner tonight? I’ve got leftover casserole or we could get a pizza. Did you need any toiletries? I could run by the sto-”

“Jesus, mom! Let her breathe,” Dustin came to your rescue.

Aunt Claudia tsked at him and walked over to you, “I’m just so excited you are here! God knows I love my little Dusty, but it’s nice to have another girl- woman around the house. I guess you’re not a little girl anymore.”

You laughed and indulged your Aunt with a hug. “I appreciate you letting me stay with you this summer. Mom and Dad are going absolutely mental over this whole college thing, it’s like I could barely get a word in to either of them.”

Your Aunt Claudia laughed and said, “Well, there will be no talk of school here. You just relax and spend time with Dusty.”

And that’s what you loved about Aunt Claudia - she didn’t dote on you the way your parents did. She was too busy doting and nagging Dustin to really care what you did. She knew you were a good kid and didn’t have to worry about you, especially with you being 18 now.

The rest of the day passed pretty quickly. You all had decided on pizza for dinner and between bites of greasy, cheesy goodness you recounted your journey to Hawkins and assured your Aunt that you did not have a boyfriend or even any prospects, multiple times. Dustin told you all about what he and his friends were up to these days: how the Byers had moved away, how much time Mike spent on the phone calling his girlfriend, and how cool his new friend Eddie was. Seriously, you thought the kid was obsessed with Steve? This was a whole other level.

“Well, you two used to play the dungeons game together all the time. Why don’t you take her with you tonight?” Your Aunt proposed.

“You know, we are technically down a player. Lucas is at a basketball camp in Indianapolis.” Dustin pondered.

You had started shaking your head at the mere mention of Dungeons and Dragons. You hadn’t played in ages and you were so not up to embarrassing yourself in front of Dustin and all his little friends, “Oh, you know, I’m not really into gaming anymore. I could stay here. We could watch a movie, Aunt Claudia?”

“No way,” Dustin yelled, causing his mom to cast him a warning look, “You have to come. It’s perfect. We need another player and you need to not sit inside with my mom all summer. C’mon, please?” Dustin put on his best puppy dog eyes and you had never really been able to say no to your cousin. He just knew how to play you from years of convincing you to do shit with him that you didn’t always wanna do.

“Ok, fine. But when I’m the reason your party gets slaughtered,” You looked him dead in the eye, “You’re not allowed to whine about it.”

The smile on Dustin’s face was more than enough to convince you that you’d made the right decision.

You were going to kill Dustin.

“It’s only a quick bike ride!” My ass…. Twenty minutes later and you were out of breath and breakin a slight sweat. You knew you must have looked like a mess. You tried to remind yourself you were just meeting Dustin’s little friends, the Hellfire Club. It’s not like you were going to see Steve Harrington. Shame…

“C’mon,” Dustin called to you, “We’re already 5 minutes late. Eddie is gonna kill me!”

You huffed as you finished placing your bike on the bike rack outside Hawkins High.

“Why are you even meeting here? Isn’t the school closed for the summer?” You questioned.

Dustin was already opening the door to one of the hallways, “Perks of befriending the school janitor. He made us a copy of the keys so we can use the drama room for meetings.Now shift it, we’re late!”

He led you through the unfamiliar halls of Hawkins. It was a lot smaller than your school in Denver was. You’d thought you’d never have to step foot in another high school again, but here you were. Mike Wheeler was poking his head out of a door at the end of the hall you had just turned on to. Dustin’s pace picked up as Mike said, “It’s about time. Hurry up!” You matched your pace to Dustin’s and soon you two were piling through the threshold of the drama room’s door.

You noticed the moody lighting first. The house lights were down with only a few stage lights illuminating the stage where a table was set up and who you could only presume were the other members of Hellfire Club sat. All of them were wearing the same shirt as Dustin. Oh god, it’s nerd central. You were pulled from your observations of the ragtag club by an irritated voice hidden behind another club member, “Henderson, you better have a good reason for being late. Again.”

“Aha, hey Eddie….hey, guys,” Dustin chuckled, “Sorry, but I was just trying to make sure we had a sub for Lucas tonight. Everyone, this is my cousin.” Dustin told everyone your name and you waved. The owner of the voice who had chastised Dustin for being late stood up and- Oh… You were taken aback by his appearance. His long hair, ring clad fingers, and forearm tattoos. Your eyes were drinking him in and you were too distracted to hear his question.

Definitely not a little friend… First Steve and now, Eddie? Dustin is holding out on me.

You were brought back to the present by Dustin’s elbow making contact with your ribs.

“Sorry, what?” You asked sheepishly.

Eddie sensed your lingering gaze and a cocky grin took over his face, “Henderson, you didn’t tell me your cousin was hot.”

Oh god, he’s forward. His compliment made your face heat up. You weren’t used to flirting with guys. To be frank, you spent most of your time either alone or with your girlfriends. That was the consequence of you having attended an all girls private school. Eddie’s hair was longer than the list of male interactions you’ve had.

“God Munson, keep it in your pants. She’s family for christ’s sake!” Dustin whined as he took to the stage to take his seat at the table. You deftly followed behind him, determined to now keep your eyes off Eddie Munson.

Dustin sat next to Mike, making the last available open chair the one to the right of Eddie. You sat down, scared to even breathe. You were now acutely aware of how sweaty and messy you probably looked. “Well, I’ll ask again since you were…pretty distracted by these sweet old tatties,” Eddie laughed.

Fuck. Even his laugh was hot. As if the whole rockstar look wasn’t enough, he had to have a cute laugh too? God truly was a cruel son of a bitch.

“You know how to play?” Eddie repeated what must have been his question from earlier.

Your eyes go wide. You weren’t going to embarrass yourself in front of Dustin’s little friends. You were going to embarrass yourself in front of Dustin’s seriously hot friend, Eddie.

“She knows enough. We played a lot as kids.” Dustin answered for you. And then the whole table was getting their stuff set up, except you and Eddie. Unbeknownst to you and the others, Eddie had been at the school for an hour setting up everything he’d need. This was the beginning of a brand new campaign for the club and he wanted to make sure it was going to be their best one yet.

You looked around nervously, trying to remember everything you could about the games you’d played when you were younger. Dustin had handed you a character sheet that was already filled out, “Here, you can use one of my starter characters.” You nodded, only vaguely sure of what you were reading.

Eddie seemed to notice your apprehension and leaned towards you while the others got ready and talked shit amongst themselves. “Hey, uh,” he started and God- you could smell him. He smelled like cigarettes, green apple shampoo, and weed. You made a mental note to ask him who his dealer was. SAT prep had made your anxiety go crazy last year and you’d started smoking to help calm yourself down and then it just became a regular habit. But you did keep yourself from letting it become your whole life and personality. “We probably won’t get too far tonight, so nothing too crazy. If you’re unsure about anything, just let me know and I can break it down, if you want?” He finished.

You looked up to meet his eyes. They were deep and dark and big. You thought for a moment that you could lose yourself in them if you weren’t too careful. You choked out an, “Yes, please. Thank you. Eddie.” You added his name almost as an afterthought, as if you just needed to say his name. Feel how it felt in your mouth, how your lips formed around it. The smile on Eddie’s face could’ve lit the entire stage. You were sure you could get through the game without needing too much help, but Eddie’s offer stayed with you the entire time you were playing. You asked questions that you already knew the answer to. You just wanted him to pay attention to you.

Soon, the first half of the campaign was coming to a point where everyone could stop for the night and the club began cleaning up. Dustin and Mike were whispering quietly. You noticed the two and made your way towards them. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You questioned. Dustin turned towards you and gave you the same smile he did at dinner earlier that night when he convinced you to attend tonight’s session. Your face dropped, “What now?”

“Well, Mike’s mom let him rent Fast Times and I was thinking….maybe I could go hangout with him…and y’know, watch it.” Dustin explained sweetly.

“Oh you perv, you just wanna stare at Phoebe Cates boobs,” one of the members, Gareth, called out. Dustin responded to him with two middle fingers. You rolled your eyes and smiled, “That’s fine, Dustin. But who am I going to bike home with?”

Dustin didn’t have an answer for you and, truthfully, he did feel a little bad about leaving you to get home on your own, but... boobies.

“I could give you a ride,” Eddie said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Oh,” You felt like you were going to melt. Right here. Right now. “Well, only if you’re sure. I don’t want you going out of your way for me.”

Eddie shrugged, a smile on his face, “No problem at all. You’re on my route.”

“Perfect! So, you’ll tell my mom, right?” Dustin asked. You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll tell her. You guys have fun.”

You watched Dustin and Mike excitedly exit the drama room, they were followed by the other members of the club who were finished. The last one to leave, Jeff you think, called out to Eddie as he was walking out, “Hey, we still on for tomorrow? Ricky’s busting my balls, asking if we still want our time slot.”

Time slot?

Eddie nodded, “Yeah, man. We’re good. 11pm.” Jeff nodded with a simple “Cool,” and he was gone. It was just you and Eddie left. Alone. Before your mind could even wander, Eddie was asking if you were ready to go. You nodded and followed him out to the parking lot.

“Oh, wait, the bike,” You said as you walked over to the rack to retrieve Dustin’s spare bike. “Do you have room in your car?” You hoped he did. You did not want to have to come back to get it tomorrow.

“Yeah, plenty of room. Perks of having a van.” Eddie said, and you looked at the vehicle in question as Eddie opened the back doors. You pushed the bike over and before you could lift it yourself, Eddie was pulling it from your grasp. “Don’t worry, I got it.” And there that smile was again. You smiled and thanked him and rounded to the passenger side’s door. You both got in and Eddie’s van, who you had learned was named Tiffany, roared to life.

You both swapped turns asking questions on the way to Dustin’s house. You tried not to think too much about the fact that Eddie was going a full 10mph under the speed limit. Maybe he’s just cautious… But nothing about this guy screams cautious. Everything about him screamed danger. And that only attracted you to him more. You learned that he was 20, a super senior as he called himself. He played in a band, Corroded Coffin, that played at the Hideaway a couple nights a week which explained the time slot detail you’d caught earlier. You talked about music you both liked, only finding Black Sabbath as a common interest which led to some light hearted debates on Madonna vs Iron Maiden that left both of you giggling.

You’d even remembered to ask him where he bought his weed. Eddie nearly drove off the road as he choked, “You smoke?” You told him all about your helicopter parents and their expectations for you and your grades. How smoking helps stave off anxiety attacks. He made an offhand comment about how shitty your parents sounded which you laughed at, but you told him you loved them and they loved you. They just wanted you to reach your best potential. Eddie told you all about how his mom passed and the day his deadbeat dad dropped him on his Uncle Wayne’s doorstep. You felt horrible for even complaining about your parents after Eddie opened up to you, which you apologized for.

“Don’t sweat it. Everyone’s got parent issues even if they don’t have parents.” Eddie shrugged. You could tell though, he wanted to move on to another topic. So, he asked you about college and you learned all about his disdain for the educational system. He did think it was pretty awesome that you were going to aim for medical school. He thought it was even more impressive when you told him you wanted to become a surgeon. Surgeons were brave to Eddie. Despite his appearance and sub-culture, Eddie did reveal that he was a bit squeamish when it came to real blood. He could write gory, horrifying campaigns for Hellfire Club, watch the scariest movies, but a drop of real blood would send him reeling. You laughed at the thought of this absolutely metal guy hating blood. “Real blood,” he’d reminded you.

He killed the engine when he came to a stop at the curb of your home for the summer.

“Tha-”

“Do you wanna come see me play tomorrow night?”

You were taken back by Eddie’s question. He wanted you to come see him play? Your lack of an immediate answer had him feeling a bit self conscious, “Only if you want to of course. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“No, I‘d love to,” you said almost too quickly, but the smile he gave you was ten times as bright as the previous ones he’d given you tonight. And you had to keep yourself from giggling at the thought that you had made him smile tonight. While he was passing unimpressed glances and glares at the other club members, you had only gotten smiles. “I mean, I’ve never been to a metal concert before, but first time for everything I suppose?” You wrung your hands a bit nervously.

Eddie placed his big hand on top of your fidgeting ones, “It’ll be so fun. We can go to the Blue Jay Diner afterwards. I’ll buy you a milkshake.”

“It’s a date,” You said. Your smile dropped as you realized what you’d said. “I- I mean, it’s- not a- I-” Eddie squeezed your hands and with that same, blinding smile said, “It is a date.”

You both just looked at each other for a long minute. You didn’t want to get out of the van. You’d do anything to just stay like this, looking at each other and talking about yourselves, all night.

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie asked, shyly.

“Sorry?” You thought you had misheard him.

“Nevermind. Sorry, I know that’s fast. I just- you’re like really pretty. It’s dumb. Forget it.” He explained. Oh, so he had said what you thought he said.

“No!”

“No?”

“I mean, you’re not being dumb,” You assured him.

“So,” He started, “does that mean…?”

You didn’t answer him, but you reached across the van’s middle console for him. It wasn’t a hot kiss. It was a little awkward and shy at first, but you both leaned into it, more sure of yourselves. You couldn’t help but feel like you had bypassed weeks of dates and getting to know one another. Aunt Claudia would probably warn that you were moving too fast, but you didn’t care. You were kissing a boy you had just met. A cute boy. Your friends back home would gasp and squeal at how scandalous this is.

The two of you pulled away from one another. You had no doubt that your face matched the dazed look Eddie was sporting. “I’ll, uhm- I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked. Eddie nodded lazily, “Yeah, for sure. I can pick you up.” You smiled widely and leaned in for a quick peck before a little bit of your sense came back to you and then you were sliding from the van and pulling your on loan bike from the back before Eddie could protest that he’d help you.

“I’m a big girl, Eds. I got it.” The nickname slipped out of your mouth almost too naturally.

Eddie just grinned at you as you winked and turned away to walk up the driveway. You made sure to add a bit more swing to your hips as you walked. Give him something to miss you by.

“Oh, hey!” Eddie called out.

You stopped and turned back to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“What you asked me about…” He trailed off and at your confused look, he made a motion of bringing his index finger and thumb to his mouth and inhaling.

Oh.

“Oh, uhm, you know what? I don’t think I’ll really be needing any this summer.” You smiled softly.

“You sure? I got other shit too. If you let me know what you’re into, it’s on the house,” Eddie assured you.

Before you could even stop yourself, your big mouth lets you confess, “The taste of your lips is like a drug.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and you could feel your face heat up as your brain caught up to what you had just said. You wanted to kick yourself. Stupid stupid stupid! You just MET this guy. Your mind was racing with thoughts about how you’ve probably just scared this poor guy and how awkward it was going to be when Dustin invited you to hang out with the club again.

You went to apologize, but found Eddie was having a field day. He erupted into full on giggles and you were sure you had made a fool of yourself until he caught his breath and said, “I think we can strike up a deal. I never leave a customer unsatisfied or empty handed.” Eddie raised his eyebrows and winked at you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Henderson.” The van roared back to life and you turned back towards the house.

You were unable to get the feeling of Eddie Munsons lips out of your mind or the stupid smile off your face for the rest of the night.

#eddie munson #stranger things #netflix #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington #hellfire club #dustin henderson #eddie munson fluff

297 notes · View notes

stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Note

Can you do 10 from your prompt list with Marc spector please

Prompt: 10) one muse has been brainwashed and the other one refuses to hurt them, trying to bring them back with a gentle touch + Marc Spector

Rating/Warnings: 18+, reader is brainwashed, reader is an Avatar, major character death but read until the end I promise (you guys know I can’t do angst that ends unhappily)

It was a cruel, cruel trick on Set’s part to fool with Khonshu’s Avatars.

Khonshu had chosen Marc because he was strong, kind-hearted, and worth keeping alive. He had chosen you for much the same reasons. Marc had trained you, taught you self-defense and combat, stealth, strategizing, anything that might be necessary for a fellow Avatar of the Moon God. That, however, led to more than just friendship. You’d fallen in love. It was a slow, rough road for either of you to admit that. But eventually it came to be that you were married, and happy.

Marc cared for you above all else. He would even disobey Khonshu for you. Set knew this.

And so to destroy both Avatars, he had twisted your mind.

You now believed that you’d never known Marc. That he was your enemy. It had started with little things, at first— you not knowing where you were when you woke up, and starting to forget things like anniversaries. Marc had been concerned it was amnesia, especially when one day you questioned the wedding band on your finger. Soon you began to question him.

Over the course of only a few weeks, Set had made you believe that Marc had kidnapped you, holding you hostage as a trophy or pet— he wasn’t sure as to the extent of what Set had made you believe.

But now you were a threat.

You were attacking him. In all of your armor, with all of your strength, you were fighting to kill. To kill him. Khonshu stood on a nearby rooftop, watching with concern. “Her suit will protect her, Marc. Defend yourself!”

But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He wasn’t going to hurt you, even if you’d be healed immediately after. So he took the hits, the stabs, and the instance where you snapped his arm at the elbow with nothing more than a grunt of pain. He wouldn’t hurt you, even if that choice killed him.

“Baby,” Marc choked out as your armored fist connected with his cheek. The impact threw him to the ground. Marc had had run-ins with Set’s victims before. If you killed him, you would likely regain your memories, and realize what had happened— the grief would kill you, too. He couldn’t let that happen, so he scrambled away. “Y/N…”

You were silent, your eyes hollow. You were in there, somewhere, but you were just a shell of yourself. A monotonous robot that would exact Set’s will. Marc let his mask melt away. “Y/N… Listen to me…” Maybe if he talked to you, you might hear him, wherever you are. “You remember the day I asked you to marry me?” You stalked forward, within range to strike with your spear. Marc rolled to the side, dodging the blow, and continued to speak. “It was a rainy day. I remember being pissed off because I’d had this whole picnic planned for us— you had no idea what was happening— and it was fucking pouring. So we went to a restaurant instead. Your favorite. They got our orders mixed up with somebody else’s and we had to wait for them to fix it. You didn’t understand why I was so pissed.”

Marc barely caught the dagger you threw at him. He just kept talking. “When it was finally fixed, the food was cold. They weren’t even fucking busy. But we ate it anyway. We were hungry. We’d eaten worse.”

Marc walked in tune with you, so that you were circling each other. “When we were done, I forgot my wallet. You had to pay the check. Real fucking nice for a guy who’s trying to get up the courage to propose.”

Your steps faltered. Your brow furrowed, confused. Marc felt relief. Hands raised to show he had no weapons, he began to slowly step forward, cautiously. He didn’t want to spook you. To his relief, you stood still. “I remember coming out of the restaurant and deciding to take you to the London Eye. Propose at the top. We didn’t make it that far— I was splashed by a car speeding through a puddle. Head to toe, I was covered in mud and gunk…”

He kept his voice low as he approached. He was crying, he was sure of it. “It started pouring again. We took cover under a little shitty gazebo, soaked through to the bone… And I was ranting. I don’t even remember what the fuck I was saying. But you took my face in your hands, made me look at you, and asked me what was wrong.” Marc snorted at the memory. He was almost within arm’s reach of you now. “I just blurted it out. I was never able to hide anything from you. Told you I wanted to ask you to marry me, but the whole damn day was just one thing wrong after another. Said it felt like the whole world was against us.”

Marc’s hands tentatively came up to rest on your arms. You let him. Baby steps forward, baby steps… Marc’s smile was strained as he looked into your eyes. “You told me you didn’t care if it was. You told me you loved me, and it didn’t matter when, or where, or how, and… And you said yes. You said you’d say yes a thousand times over, in any lifetime. And I love you. Enough to fight gods to keep you safe. Baby, do…” He shifted, fighting sobs. His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Do you remember that day?”

Your eyes trailed up his chest to meet his eyes. In them, Marc saw familiarity. Realization. “M…Marc?”

His heart jumped. Despite his tears, he smiled. “Yeah, baby; I’m here. I’m right here.” You were still struggling. He could see it. But the fact was that you were shining through Set’s torture, fighting it. Marc leaned forward and pressed a closed-mouth kiss of relief to your lips. You were stiff against him, but you didn’t pull away.

Then he felt a rush of cold energy.

Khonshu’s control.

He fought with every fiber of his being, but he still heard the tear of fabric and impacted flesh. You gasped as Marc’s crescent dagger stabbed up through your ribs, piercing your heart. Marc was consumed by terror, crying out as you started to fall and Khonshu relinquished control. “No! No no no, Y/N! Y/N!”

You were already gone as Marc knelt to the ground with you in his arms. “Baby, no…” His hand ran over your face, searching for any flicker of life, but your eyes had lost their light, and no breath came from your lips.

He’d sworn to protect you. To love you. And yet, he’d taken your life with his own hands. Khonshu had done it, a reasonable part of his mind tried to say. But he couldn’t accept that— your final memory had been of your husband stabbing you, killing you, what had he done…

Marc cradled your body to his chest and screamed his sobs into the crook of your neck, rocking back and forth as if to comfort you.

“Ease your grief, Marc Spector,” Khonshu rumbled, and Marc couldn’t fight the surge of rage he felt. “I merely did what you could not. Set would never have relinquished control while she was alive. Besides… do you really think I am so careless with the lives of my Avatars?”

Marc didn’t have time to be confused by his last sentence. With a shudder and a cough, you gasped back to life, making him jump. “Y/N?!” His voice cracked and was an octave higher, wondering if this was a trick, or if some god had really granted you life.

“Marc—“ you wheezed hoarsely, cut off as he engulfed you in the tightest embrace he could muster.

“Baby,” Marc sobbed, “You’re ok, I’ve got you; I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“It wasn’t you,” You croaked, burying your face in his neck. “I knew it wasn’t you.”

Marc held you close, wrapping his cape around you and whispering how much he loved you. And you held him, as a lifetime of memories came back to you and you remembered just how much you loved Marc Spector.

Most prominently, you recalled the day he’d asked you to marry him.

“I wanted… I was gonna… I was gonna ask you to marry me— I don’t want to spend a moment away from you. I want to wake up with you, I want to fight alongside you, I want to be there with you for the rest of my life. But it’s taken me weeks to build up the courage, and… and now everything… everything’s against us...”

You took his bowed head in your hands, making him look at you. “Oh, Marc…” You pecked his lips. “I don’t care if everyone and everything on this planet were against us... I’d always say yes.”

His smile, made more bright by the disheveled state he was in and slathered in runny mud, lit up your whole world.

In the present day, you leaned into him and cried with him. You’d come back to your husband— it wasn’t death that had scared you.

It was being apart from Marc Spector.

Give me a prompt and a character!

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

323 notes · View notes

green-socks · 1 year

Text

In the Most Unexpected Places

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Javy 'Coyote' Machado (aka floychado)

Summary: The unexpected place is Texas. After the mission, Coyote and Bob hadn't thought they'd be seeing each other until after the month long leave they'd been granted. However, finding themselves in the same place (again), they start spending more time together. Just as friends, right?

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: none really.

Notes: I read a couple of hangster fics with Bob/Coyote as a background pairing (most notably Barnes_Brain's Sliding into Home series on ao3) and promptly lost my mind. Needed to make it happen more. Thank you to @wyn-n-tonic for letting me bounce inital ideas and answering my questions that I kept badgering you with from the couch. And thank you to my dear cheerleader @a-reader-and-a-writer for betaing, offering support, and coming up with the title! Couldn't have done it without you bby<3

MASTERLIST

(I know it's Bob's story too but Coyote gets the gif this time, sorry Bobby bby)

"Bob? Is that you??"

Bob whipped around hearing his callsign, not having expected anyone to recognize him in a grocery store in Deer Park, Texas.

"Coyote? Hey, man, wh-what're you doing here?" Bob asked, smiling as the other man pulled him into a quick hug. The greeting was warmer than Bob would have expected, but he was very pleased with it nonetheless. It was good to see Coyote, and perhaps the other man felt the same. It had been less than a week since they had last seen each other on base, but somehow it felt longer, the change of scenery making Bob lose track of time a little bit.

"I should be asking you that! I live here. But I thought you were from somewhere.. not Texas?" Coyote said, scrunching up his face trying to recall if Bob had ever mentioned where he was from.

Bob had not, and now he realized that neither had Coyote, actually. They'd had more important things to focus on in the last three weeks, he supposed.

"Yeah, I'm, uhm, I grew up in Wyoming, but my mom is from here actually. We're here visiting my grandparents for my leave," he explained. "I'm just realizing I never even asked where you were from. I just assumed somewhere in Texas maybe, but at least I know now," Bob chuckled, giving an awkward half-grin that he hoped conveyed that he was sorry for not making more of an effort to get to know the pilot.

"I'm sorry I never asked you either. Guess we never really got there, huh?" Coyote shrugged.

"Robby? Where did you disappear?"

Bob heard his mom calling after him just before she appeared at the end of the aisle behind Coyote's back.

"Robby?" Coyote mouthed at him, and Bob felt himself flush a little.

"Believe it or not, I'm not actually Bob to these people," he smirked to Coyote, before turning to his mom.

"Sorry, Mom, I ran into a friend. This is Javy Machado. Coyote, this is my mom, Michelle," Bob made the introductions.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. I had no idea Bob had family here, I was surprised to see him just now."

"Oh yes, I grew up here in Deer Park," she smiled warmly at the two. "Machado? I think there was a Machado on my brother's football team in high school," Michelle mused, mostly to herself.

"Could've been my dad, or one of my uncles. They all played."

"What a fun coincidence that Robby knows someone from here too! Are you in the Navy as well?"

"Yes, ma'am, a pilot. We met just recently."

Bob tried to keep his mom from worrying too much, so he appreciated that Coyote didn't mention their most recent mission in more detail. Bob would talk about his work with his family as best he could, but he knew his mom worried a lot, and he felt better keeping the rougher details of his job from her. Mentioning the mission now would just dig it up again.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, dear," Michelle said to Coyote. "Maybe we'll run into each other again while we're here! Robby, we should run now, your Pop will be waiting."

"Yeah, of course. Uhm, I'll—" Bob turned to Coyote, not really knowing what to say.

"We'll see each other in like twenty minutes in the group chat anyway, right?" Coyote grinned. "Go, man, don't leave your Pop waitin'."

"Right. See ya around!"

"See ya, Robby," Coyote winked.

Bob shook his head, laughing, and turned to hurry after his mom.

Coyote was right. They did see each other (figuratively speaking) later that afternoon in the 🗡️SKWAD group chat Fanboy had set up to keep in touch during leave, and they told everyone how they happened to be vacationing in the same place. Most of them were kind of jealous that the two of them could hang out even during leave, what with the codependency already forming within the group, which made Bob realize that maybe he should do something to utilize that possibility.

He'd just never spent time alone together with Coyote, and while there was nothing wrong with the other man, Bob wasn't even sure Coyote (or Hangman, since they were often a package deal) liked him enough to hang out alone with him. Bob knew that the first impressions on all sides had long since faded, but he still didn't know if there was any basis for a deeper connection between him and the pilot, so he didn't make any moves on it.

However, after a couple of days passed, Bob found himself needing the company of someone who knew about the mission to be able to decompress from.. everything. He thought about calling Phoenix again, but then he remembered that he could also hit up Coyote and ask if he wanted to hang out for a bit. Sure, they hadn't really had a longer conversation together outside of the time they were at the hospital with Phoenix after the bird strike incident, but Bob remembered finding Coyote's presence comforting then. He had shut his eyes and just listened to the two pilots talking, and that had helped him ground himself.

Gathering his courage, Bob shot Coyote a message.

Bob: Hey. Would you want to hang out for a bit? Feeling like getting away from the family for a couple of hours.

Coyote: hey man, sure thing. i can come pick you up if you send me the address

And that's how Bob ended up in the passenger seat of the pilot's truck, not really knowing where they were going, but feeling calmer already.

Javy looked over at Bob who had his eyes closed. After settling into the car, Bob had asked him if he could turn the radio just a little quieter, and then shut his eyes. Not to sleep, Javy knew, but to recenter himself, it seemed.

"Did you have anything specific in mind?" Javy asked, turning left to drive through quieter roads.

"Nah. Just... If you don't mind, just driving around for a while sounds perfect. I can pay for the gas," Bob responded, eyes still closed, but head turned in Javy's direction.

"You're good, Bob, don't worry about that." Javy glanced at the quiet man next to him again. "Everything okay with your family?"

"Oh, yeah, it's not that. Everything's good with them." Bob opened his eyes finally, and continued speaking, "It's just that the mission is still so fresh, and it's not like I can really talk to them about it all. And you know I like to have my quiet time. With a house full of noisy relatives that's not so easy. I could take a walk or something – that's what I usually do when I need a moment – but…"

"But you needed to see someone who gets it?" Javy guessed. "Yeah, I feel that."

Bob just hummed in agreement.

"If you want to talk about it, you can. I know it was even more intense for you."

"Thanks, Coyote. I appreciate you doing this. Honestly, this is helping a lot already," Bob said, and Javy looked at his face for a sign that the other man was brushing off the issue just to be polite or something. But he only found the honest earnestness that he was used to from the WSO, so Javy let it drop.

Instead, Javy just kept a running commentary of all the places they were driving past, telling Bob random stories about his teenage years, driving the routes he'd been driving back then. His passenger seemed content to just sit there and listen, his face finally relaxing fully.

Javy found himself glancing at Bob often while he drove. The man was a mystery to him. At first glance, Javy thought he'd had the quiet, unassuming man all figured out, but now he knew that not to be true. In fact, it seemed like every day the WSO surprised him in some way. For example, Javy never would have guessed the way Bob dressed in civvies – snug, faded jeans, and equally well-loved band shirts or comfy hoodies seemed to be his go-to outfit. He even wore a hat. Javy hadn't thought of Bob as a hat person for some reason.

It was when Bob started yawning that Javy realized it was getting kind of late, so he made his way back to Bob's grandparents' house to drop him off. They didn't talk much on the way back, but that was okay. It didn't feel like they needed to fill the silence with anything. Coyote was used to more high-energy hangouts with his other friends but found that he didn't mind this either. It was probably good for him too.

When they rolled to a stop at the house, Bob turned to him once more as he was getting out of the truck. "Seriously, thank you for doing this. I know I wasn't much of a company, but this was good for me. Your voice calms me down." Bob added that last bit quietly, as if to himself, and Javy was stunned into silence, watching the WSO walk back inside.

Javy ignored the warm feeling building in his chest and headed back home.

The next morning, Bob was surprised to get a text from Coyote, asking him to hang out again. Not that Bob thought Coyote suddenly hated him after last night or anything, but he also didn't feel like he had been the most entertaining companion by a mile.

Coyote: hey again. there's this art museum i've been wanting to check out but my family isn't really into that sort of thing. would you wanna come with me? it's a bit of a drive but if you don't mind. you seem like a guy who would like museums???

Bob: I do like museums. Yeah, I'd be happy to go with you! When do you wanna go?

Coyote: can you be ready to go in an hour? i can pick you up again

Bob: Sounds good👍🏻

Once again, Bob hadn't quite known what to expect, but they ended up having a great time at the art museum. They both agreed that it could be difficult sometimes to find a person to go to museums with since some people will go through them too fast and others too slow, the vibes not matching, or just not sharing the same interests. But Bob and Coyote were perfectly matched in their museum behaviors, keeping just the right pace (according to them) and sharing interests in a way where they were often pulled to the same pieces but could also find some individual interests. And they had fun looking through the gift shops too.

"Like Hangman? Love the guy to death, but he does not have the patience for this, if you can believe that," Coyote joked when they were exiting the museum.

Bob laughed. "Yes, I somehow can believe that."

Coyote got quiet for a moment.

"Speaking of him, or us, I don't think I ever apologized to you about how our first meeting went. We were kind of dicks to you that first night," Coyote grimaced.

Bob stopped short and blinked, surprised. "I honestly didn't feel any need for an apology there, but I appreciate it anyway. Besides, I'm kind of used to people dismissing me at first glance, it's just how it is," he shrugged.

Coyote frowned like he wanted to argue something, but Bob continued before he had the chance. "And to be fair, I kind of pegged you and Hangman as like the pretty divas from high school, you know? So it's not like we don't all make some snap judgments sometimes," Bob offered with a small grin.

Coyote looked at him surprised for a moment before a wide smirk split his face. "You think we're pretty, do you?"

Bob rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, you two do not need me to tell you that," he chuckled.

"Eh, well, we like hearing it anyway," Coyote laughed.

(Javy didn't tell Bob that he thought the WSO was quite pretty too, actually.)

They found themselves hanging out nearly every day for the next three weeks.

The pair of them visited a few more museums since that was sort of their thing now, but mostly they hung out in the late evenings when their families were already retiring for the night. That way they didn't need to feel bad about ditching the people they got to see far too rarely. They would drive somewhere, grab a snack and eat it on the hood of the truck while parked at some parking lot, a park, or some other quieter place.

But they still found some activities to do as well. They found a fun outside putt-putt course, went to see a couple of late-night movie showings, and had a very fun night at an arcade where a table hockey game got intensely competitive, and Javy showed off his frankly unbelievable skills on a dance mat. Bob dragged Javy to bowling one night, where he got to show off his skills in turn, having done a lot of bowling with his cousin growing up.

Bob did surprise even himself by noticing a want to prioritize hanging out with Javy while also still getting family time. Where did all this social battery come from all of a sudden? Bob couldn't remember ever having this much energy to meet someone even after spending the whole day with family members. He chalked it up to Javy's comforting presence making everything feel easier. There was also the fact that – probably thanks to the circumstances of the dagger mission – there was absolutely zero need to pretend or put on a front between them. They could be candid with each other, which eased Bob's nerves a great deal too. Instead, it was all.. easy.

One evening toward the end of his stay in Texas, Bob heard his Meemaw chattering away excitedly about Robby's new friend to his Pop as they were getting ready for bed. Which promptly made Bob choke on his evening tea, because friend spoken like that was Grandma Speak for boyfriend. Javy had come in for coffee earlier that day, at the insistence of his Meemaw, who was now telling Pop "what a charming, handsome young man that Machado boy was" and how "they looked so sweet together". "No wonder Robby's been spendin' so much time with him. New sweethearts like that can't stand to stay apart," Meemaw sighed.

Bob took a lot after his Pop, both in looks and character, meaning that preferring to stay quiet and letting others talk was his Pop's trademark that Bob had somehow inherited. Which was why it was all the more surprising to hear Pop join in with a grunt, "I agree. He seemed like a smart kid. It's good for Robert."

On the one hand, Bob was glad to hear his grandparents clearly had no issue with him supposedly dating a man, but on the other hand he was still reeling from them even thinking he and Javy were together. That was absurd, right? They were just friends. They acted with each other like they did with all of their other friends, there was nothing special about their situation, right? Meemaw was just being a meemaw again.

Deep down, Bob knew the answer to that, just like he knew how pleased it made him to hear that his family apparently thought he and Javy were a couple. He just wasn't quite ready to admit it to himself yet.

"...we are now boarding passengers who require extra assistance as well as any active duty military," came the announcement over the PA, and Bob got up. There was only one other person heading to the gate just ahead of him, and—

"Javy?"

Javy whipped around in a perfect parallel of their first meeting here in Texas almost a month ago.

"I thought you weren't gonna fly back?" Bob asked, wondering if he had somehow summoned the man before him by thinking about him too much all morning (and the night before). It hadn't helped that his Meemaw had been asking him to bring "that lovely friend of yours" for another visit as he had hugged her goodbye.

Before the pilot could answer, the person working the counter interrupted them.

"Since you two gentlemen are our only active duty passengers on this flight, we have upgraded your seats to first class, free of charge, as a thank you for your service," the lady smiled at them, handing them their new boarding passes.

"Oh, uhm, thank you very much, ma'am," Bob stammered.

He never expected (or wanted) any special treatment just because he was Navy, but knew that it would cause only more extra hassle for the workers if he refused the upgrade, so he just thanked them and walked in after Javy. Besides, he couldn't lie that the extra leg room wasn't welcome, even if the flight was only three and a half hours.

He caught up with Javy.

"Yeah, so, I thought you were supposed to have that boys' trip with Hangman and drive back together. What happened?"

Javy snorted. "The fucker went back a few days ago already. Said he had things to do."

"Things like Rooster?" Bob guessed.

"Mmhmm."

Bob snorted too. "Guess that wasn't too surprising."

"Yeah, I don't know why I expected anything else," Javy grumbled, but his voice held a clear fondness for his best friend. "But now I get to travel with you, so it all worked out," he winked.

"Oh, our seats are together," Bob said, in a higher voice than he'd have liked. That was a lot of proximity with a man he only just realized he has feelings for. No big deal. This was fine.

"Not tired of me, are you, Bobby?"

"No! No, not at all! I didn–"

It was then he saw that Javy was smiling mischievously.

"Rude," he harrumphed, blushing, and poked Javy in the chest in retaliation as he moved past the slightly shorter man to sit on the window seat.

Javy snickered as he sat down, and then they fell silent as other passengers started trickling on board.

Bob was feeling slightly panicked. For some reason, now that he had realized he had a crush on the man sitting next to him, it was suddenly hard to know how to act around him. Bob groaned at himself internally. Why did he have to make it difficult now after weeks of easy conversation? A week ago he could just be with Javy, easy as anything, and now all of a sudden he was silently freaking out about the fact that their hands were nearly touching on the armrests. Get a grip, Floyd.

Ever since their late-night discussion about ex-partners two days ago, and Bob had found out that Javy dated men as well as women, it seemed like some sort of dam in his brain had broken. Suddenly he could think of the pilot as a real possibility, and let all sorts of thoughts run free that he had kept buried to the best of his ability thus far. Thoughts that one generally did not have about people one called friends.

Well, if he was being honest with himself, those thoughts had been there for weeks now. He distinctly remembered having a thought or two that day at beach football. (And they called him smart. Bob mentally shook his head at himself). Even so, he had never entertained the thoughts further, and instead kept them very carefully locked up in a box, only escaping when he wasn't concentrating – which he tried to keep to a minimum. But now he found it very nearly impossible to contain them at all.

"You okay there?" Javy asked, his soft voice sounding both a little confused and worried.

Perhaps Bob's internal freakout wasn't as internal as he'd thought.

"'M fine," he croaked, which obviously didn't sound reassuring at all.

"Are you nervous about flying commercial?" Javy tried.

"No, not at all. I'm a backseater, I'm used to not piloting myself," Bob shrugged.

"Oh. Cause I just thought, if you were, I'd have offered to hold your hand."

Sirens screamed in Bob's head as he stared at Javy's hand propped invitingly on the armrest. Too many different possibilities for why the pilot was doing this raced his mind all at once.

"Are- Are you nervous?" was what he settled on.

"Would you hold my hand if I was?"

Javy's expression was carefully blank, and Bob swallowed thickly.

"Of course, if you wanted that," Bob replied.

"Then yes, I'm nervous," Javy nodded. "Awfully nervous," he repeated, nudging Bob's hand with his own.

The sirens in his head screamed even louder. Was this flirting?? Was Javy really flirting with him? Was that what was happening? Why would he want to hold Bob's hand when he obviously wasn't actually nervous?

"O-okay," Bob stuttered, and took Javy's hand in his own.

It was surprisingly soft despite the calluses from flying a jet. Holding Javy's hand like this felt simply electrifying, and Bob felt himself getting warm all over. He risked a glance at the pilot next to him, and saw that Javy was looking at their joined hands with a small, satisfied smile on his handsome face.

They didn't talk for a long while after that. The flight took off, leveled out, seatbelt signs went off, drinks were served, and all the while they kept holding hands. It seemed that by some unspoken agreement they weren't going to talk about whatever this was on a plane surrounded by people, but instead kept up reassuring squeezes of their joined hands or stroked their thumbs over the other's knuckles. Javy lifting their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to Bob's knuckles at the very least washed away the last of his nerves, replacing them with a pleasant fluttering in his belly. He would demand a proper talk once they landed, but for now his brain calmed down, trusting that he needn't have freaked out over liking Javy after all.

--------------------------------------------

tagsies (once again probably not what you signed up for lol so feel free to ignore!): @writeforfandoms @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @marvelousmermaid @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @callsign-phoenix @hederasgarden @lt-natrace @yespolkadotkitty @luckyladycreator2 @alexxavicry @blue-aconite @writercole

#bob x coyote #robert bob floyd #javy coyote machado #floychado #top gun fic #top gun: maverick #i still don't know what i'm doing #i accidentally wrote something #top gun brainrot

77 notes · View notes

daniveigt · 2 years

Text

Every part of you.

Summary: The reader is a painter and after asking the boys a lot they let her do a painting of them.

Pairing: Steven Grant, Marc Spector and Jake Lockley.

Warnings: fluff, some crying, but nothing really sad. It's just love, and more love.

a/n-sooo... I had this idea before going to sleep, scrolling through twitter. I saw this very cute drawing of the three together, but when I went to save the page it updated. I hope it's okay, it's been a while since I wrote. Remembering that English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. hope you like it! Written on my cell phone.

gif credits to the owner!!!

Steven was the first to accept. He didn't even think twice when I brought the idea to him. Every time he had the opportunity to see me painting he was by my side. Always with his eyes attentive to every movement of the brush, to the shades of color and with a compliment on the tip of her tongue and a chamomile tea in his hand.

Marc and Jake... I already knew I would have a job convincing them.

2 days after asking Steven I asked Marc. When Marc was around and I painted he was always in front of me with a cup of coffee in his hand trying to read some book about Egypt that Steven asked him to read and the computer open. Marc could never finish the books, or understand anything about them, but he made that effort for Steven. I stopped my work, painting a landscape from some image I'd seen in one of Steven's books.

"You're looking..." Marc said already with a slight smile on his face. "Can I ask you something?" He looked up from the book and I saw a little apprehension on his face that he tried to mask with confusion. "It's no big deal, I promise." I took a deep breath and with anxiety already coursing through my veins I continued: "I was wondering if I could paint you." Marc's face lights up and suddenly closes: "Baby, are you sure, me? Do you, um, want to...paint me?" His voice dripping with confusion and insecurity: "But of course honey, you're the most beautiful person that my eyes have ever seen, you're my muse. It would be weird if I didn't want to paint you." He took a deep breath, closed the book, took a sip of coffee, closed his eyes, opened them and looked at me so softly that I ended up dropping the brush on the floor and said, "Of course love, whenever you want. Anything for you ."

---

Jake is always sitting at the window behind where I usually paint, with a notebook in his hands writing and scribbling thoughts. Once I saw a poem for me in this notebook. I cried for 30 minutes rereading all the sweet words. If I told someone that my super scary handsome boyfriend writes poems and poetry, they wouldn't believe it.

Not that I would tell anyone about it. Never.

As I finished the same painting of some pyramid I repeated the same question that I asked Marc without a second thought. "Jake, can I paint you?" The sound of the pen on paper stopped immediately and I heard the rustle of clothes in my direction. He hugged me from behind and placed his face on my neck sucking in air and a sense of peace embraced me. "Yes. But only if you come to bed with me, Hermosa." And so without a second thought, I closed my paints, put the brush in the water, wiped my hands and went to bed with him.

---

One week later, on a Thursday night after dinner I started my work. Steven was the first one that I started. He was nervous. I took my paints and canvas into the living room and instructed him to sit in the middle of the couch, sit and relax. I made him some tea and grabbed his favorite book and glasses. He silently thanked, took a sip of his tea and began to read. "Can you read it aloud dear?" I asked as I mixed the paints until I got the right skin tone. He nodded and started. And the sound of his voice lulled me and I started to paint.

4 hours later I was done. Steve asked to see it and I declined. I wasn't finished yet. I kept the painting while he waited in the living room and we went to bed.

-----

On Friday it was Jake's turn. Today was his day to go out and work with the limo. I gave him the same guidance that I gave to Steven. I made him sit on the sofa, on the right side, handed him his notebook and a pen and a glass of water and got to work. 4 hours later I finished. I have to ran from him so he wouldn't see the painting and went to bed with him.

----

Saturday. It was Marc's turn. I started this morning after breakfast. I made him sit on the sofa to the left, handed him the computer, a cup of coffee, glasses and a book and went to my seat. Marc smiled at me, put his glasses on his face and started fiddling with the computer. 3 hours later I had finished it. I warned him and as much as he begged to see it I managed to say no and went to finish the last details and put it to dry. Then I put everything away and sat next to him on the couch.

----

On Sunday the paint was already dry. I took it, put it on the table and put a white cloth over it and went to make breakfast.

Marc's Pov-

Marc woke up looking for her, not understanding where she would be so early on a Sunday morning. He got up, went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and looked at Steven and Jake in his reflection. "Where is she?" Steven asked still trying to understand what was going on. "She must have lost sleep Steven." Jake started to reassure him. Marc finished brushing his teeth, smiled at them and headed for the kitchen, finding you finishing up the food.

"Good morning love" His hoarse voice making her jump and put her hand on her heart in fright. "Marc what are you doing awake? It was supposed to be breakfast in bed." I smiled seeing her face turn towards me with a slight frown. I immediately came forward and hugged her, "I missed you." "Go sit down dear, I have a surprise for you on the table, but please don't open it yet." With a kiss on her cheek I pulled away and headed towards the table, only now noticing the large rectangle covered by a cloth on top of the table.

"What is it?" Steven asked, looking up from the reflection in Gus's aquarium glass. "We'll have to wait and see buddy." I replied and she came towards me with a plate and a cup of coffee in her hand. Putting it on the table I pulled her into my lap and kissed her. "Hey." "Hey. You didn't peek did you?" she asked with a smile on her face. "No, I swear." I said taking a piece of bread off the plate smiling brightly at her. "Great, I want to see your reaction and the boys' too." She got up and walked towards the object on the table. "What do you mean the boys too?" I asked. Jake and Steven wondered the same thing in their reflection. "You'll see." She said handing me the object still with the cloth in it. "Please, if you don't like it let me know. Do you promise?" Her face was lined with nervousness and her hands were shaking slightly as I took the object from her hand. "Love, anything that comes from you I will like. And the boys think the same." Her face lit up momentarily and she motioned with her hands for me to continue and remove the wrapping paper.

The shock I got when I took the wrapping off came right away. My breath hitched and I heard Jake and Steven's hitch too. My hands started to shake and my eyes started to blur. By this time Steven was already crying and Jake was strangely silent. But I didn't turn to look at them. It was a painting. The painting she said she wanted to do of me and the boys. I did not expect it. When she asked each of us if she could paint us I thought she was going to do something simple, just one.

In the picture in front of me I could see our living room, with Steven's books in the background, the windows overlooking London. The table in the back filled with more books and papers with notes. And on the couch the 3 of us. Me, Steven and Jake. Steven was in the middle, reading a book, glasses on the end of his nose and his hair a mess. Jake was on the right, writing in his notebook with his hand in his hair and his legs on the coffee table. Squinted eyes trying to understand what he wrote. And I, on the left side with the computer leaning on my legs with a slight smile in my hand. I was shaking so hard, trying not to cry.

"Let me take over Marc." Jake said and I allowed it. "Hermosa, I-I, we don't even know what to say." I lifted my eyes to meet hers and was greeted with tears in her eyes and a small smile. "I-I, just wanted to show you guys with my eyes, I hope I did a good job." A small tear rolled down my cheek and Steven took the body and all the other tears came down. "Honey, it's, it's… amazing. I, I, love you. We love you. I, just come here, please." She sat on my lap and hugged me tight. Then Marc took over the body. "Thanks."

--------------------------

#steven grant #writing #moon knight #marc spector #jake lockley #steven with a v #fanfic #fluff #x reader #reader insert #marc x reader #steven x reader #moonknight x you #Moonknight fanfic

175 notes · View notes

lovelyfanatical · 7 months

Text

I Get a Sugar Rush Whenever I'm With You - Chapter 10.2

Happy weekend fellow Drukkari stans, or whatever day it is for you! Hope you're enjoying the new season of Bake Off if you watch! We're getting down to the final installments. There may even be an epilogue as well! If you missed any previous chapters and need to catch up, you can find them all on my Table of Contents here. Sersi finally talked some sense into Druig! See what happens next at the big picnic in a brand new mini-chapter of Drukkari in the Great British Bake Off, featuring random Marvel guest stars!

Sunday arrived swiftly, and Druig found himself back at the gardens outside of the tent. It was strange only being there to eat and not to bake, but Druig had a very different challenge ahead of him. Before that, however, he had friends to greet.

Punctual as ever, Ajak and Karun had already arrived as Druig walked up. Ajak surprised him with a hug before introducing him to her partner. Karun was accompanied by his boss, some American inventor called Howard Stark.

"Mr. Stark was the one who suggested I should apply for the competition," he explained.

"How could I not? Of all the assistants I've ever had, Karun makes the finest cakes by far!" Mr. Stark said proudly.

"You're too kind, sir," Karun replied, a humble smile on his face.

"Sounds like how I got Druig to apply, right mate?" Hunter interjected, giving his co-worker a heavy clap on the shoulder, much to his annoyance. He'd practically begged Druig to let him come to the picnic. Druig had reluctantly agreed, but he was beginning to regret that decision.

"Yeah, take all the credit for my success, why don't you?" Druig responded, rolling his eyes.

"I will take credit! I got you into baking in the first place!" Hunter replied indignantly.

"Well, it's good that you did. We're all quite impressed with Druig's work," Ajak added with an amused grin. "By the way, how far into the competition did you get?"

"Semi-final," he answered, trying not to look too pleased with himself.

"Wow, congratulations!" Ajak said, her grin taking over her face.

"Well done, Mr. Druig!" Karun said.

"Thanks," Druig said with a small smile.

As they talked, a few more bakers and guests trickled in. Thena had come alone, giving them all a nod and a small smile of acknowledgment as she arrived, but Sprite was followed from a distance by her mother, father, and a hoard of younger siblings, much to everyone's amusement.

"Good day, everyone," Sprite said as she approached the group.

"Aren't you going to introduce us to your family, Sprite?" Ajak asked.

"Nope, they agreed to stay at least ten feet away," she answered. "I wanted it to be thirty, but they negotiated me down."

"Well, you can stay here then while I introduce myself," Ajak replied cheerfully. She began to march over to the group, Karun following close behind. Hunter observed all of them with amusement. Sprite merely groaned and rolled her eyes.

"So, how have you two been?" Thena asked, turning to Sprite and Druig.

"Fine, busy with school," Sprite said glumly.

"Gilgamesh tells me you made it to Week 7. You should be proud."

The red-haired teen softened a bit at this. "Thanks, Thena."

"And I hear you made it to the semi-final, Druig. Congratulations."

"Thanks," he said softly, ducking his head. Next to him, Sprite's eyes resumed their usual glare.

"I'm gonna go find Ajak," she said before stomping off. Thena waited until the teen was out of earshot before turning back to him.

"So, have you been patient?" Thena asked.

"A bit too patient, perhaps," Druig mused. Thena merely raised an eyebrow at his words.

"What's stopping you now?"

"The walls of that tent."

"Well, that won't be a problem for much longer," she remarked with a sly grin. Thena then walked away, rejoining Sprite as she properly introduced her parents and siblings. Druig hung back, and Hunter was walking back over to him when they were greeted by a familiar call.

"Hey, Druig!" Sersi said as she approached him, hand-in-hand with Dane. They were followed by an older couple, presumably Sersi's parents, and a shy but handsome gentleman who was gawking at everything around him. Dane introduced the man as his colleague, Steven Grant.

"Glad I'm not the only one!" Hunter declared, inserting himself into the conversation once again. "Did you also dare your work mate to bake a cake, which escalated into him entering a televised baking competition?"

"Um, not exactly. No. We used to be flat mates, and I got him to start watching the show," Steven mumbled.

"He taste-tested a lot of my bakes when I started out," Dane explained.

"Is that really how you started baking, Druig?" Sersi asked, equal parts incredulous and amused.

Before Druig could give an answer, Hunter had already jumped in and was soon regaling Steven and Dane with his (much-exaggerated) version of the story. As they talked, Sersi pulled Druig aside.

"So, are you ready? You have a plan?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. I'll wait until after they announce the winner, then I'll take her aside to talk to her," he explained.

"Good. Simple and straightforward. Anything I can help with?"

"If anyone asks where we've gone, keep 'em distracted?"

"I'm on it," Sersi answered confidently.

Just then, Druig noticed Ikaris walking up to the picnic area.

"Although, if you're otherwise occupied, I'd understand," he said, his eyes fixed on the approaching man.

Sersi turned to look at him, too, her eyebrows raising only slightly in response. She let out a quite breath as she turned back to Druig and stated, "I'll be fine. I promise."

"Alright. But if they start fighting and you need someone to intervene, I can always jump in," he replied nonchalantly.

"Seriously?" Sersi asked, more amused than taken aback.

"What? I can hold my own in fight."

"Thank you, but I really don't think that will be necessary."

As he got closer, Ikaris's gaze met Sersi. She gave him a slight grin and a nod of acknowledgment, and he returned it in kind. Before he could say anything, Ajak had wandered over and struck up a conversation with him. With that, Sersi returned to Dane's side. He and Steven were still avidly listening to Hunter, who was in the middle of another (probably embarrassing) story about Druig. Druig merely rolled his eyes and turned his attention elsewhere.

While they were talking, a few more groups had arrived, including a father and son that Druig soon recognized from photos Phastos had shared with them over dinner. He realized he'd been staring a little too late, as the father looked up and gave him a tentative wave and smile. Druig waved back as the man and son approached.

"Hi, we're here for the picnic," he explained.

"You've come to the right place. Ben, I presume?" Druig asked.

"Yup, and this is Jack! Say hello," Ben said, ushering the boy forward.

"Hello!" Jack greeted with the biggest smile.

"Hello, Jack. I'm Druig," he responded. The boy's eyes grew big at the sound of his name.

"My daddies talk about you all the time!" Jack said excitedly.

"Is that right?" Druig asked, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

"Jack, why don't you introduce yourself to the other kids?" Ben asked hurriedly. Jack was all too happy to zip ahead, making fast friends with Sprite's siblings. Ben turned back to Druig with a sheepish look. "I'm afraid the gossip has been too tempting to resist."

"It's alright. Phastos was quite upfront about who he shares all our secrets with," Druig remarked, drawing a chuckle from Ben.

"Well, then I have to ask. How's everything with Makkari?"

"Good. Things are good with Makkari."

"That's a relief! I was worried for a little while."

Just then, someone else caught Ben's eye. Druig followed his gaze back to Sersi and Dane, who were both laughing at something Steven had said.

"Is that…" Ben began to ask.

"Sersi and Dane? I can introduce you, if you like," Druig offered.

"That would be great!" Ben answered cheerily.

They walked over to the group and chatted pleasantly as the day wore on.

Bit of fun before the big finale, coming next week! It'll be up on AO3 a day early!

Part 36

#lovelyfanatical shares #drukkari gbbo au #drukkari #druig x makkari #eternals #eternals fanfiction #all the guest stars!

10 notes · View notes

turtle-babe83 · 2 years

Note

Greetings!! I LOVVVEEE your writing so much, been on a whole TMNT kick especially the bayverse. I am IN LOVE with Raph, always have been for years!!

Can you do one with my human oc Miyoko who is a short shy girl who has a thing for Raph and he finds out from the pieces of writing she does on her free time about the things she loves about him, for example: his eyes, voice, his strong muscular physique, loves watching him working out.

And after seeing the writing, Raph surprises her, telling her his feelings and showing her physically with everything she has fantasized about all this time [basically getting rough and dirty *wink wink*] and it is all from what Miyoko has wrote about. Leaving her in a red blushing breathless mess.

So sweet and sexy! ♥️😍 Sorry it took so long to get done!

Sexier than Fiction

Raph x OC Miyoko (fem)

Warning: Language and NSFW 18+ only

That’s right, baby, groan and sweat for mama, Miyoko thought to herself. Watching Raphael lift weights was one of her favorite pastimes. Pulling her notebook out of her messenger bag, she made a few notes for later. While her friends wrote fanfics about movie stars and rockstars, she devoted her writing skills to the hotheaded terrapin. Her cheeks heated up at the thought of writing out a new smut piece based on his current workout.

“Whatcha writin’ there, girlie?” his deep voice interrupted her musing.

Slamming the journal shut, she looked up sheepishly. The object of her obsession was giving her his signature smirk, and despite her embarrassment at being caught, her tummy fluttered with want.

“It’s no-nothing, Raphael, just some notes for uh, work,” Miyoko lied, slipping it back into her bag.

One big eye ridge shot up, but otherwise, he decided to leave it alone. For now. His adorable little friend was always writing in that notebook, but kept it very private. His curiosity was killing him. Maybe if he could read it, he would get some insight into the shy girl’s mind. Raphael could admit to himself that she intrigued him. She was short and cute, sweet and sexy, and an enigma. He knew she considered them to be friends, but he yearned to find out what chance he might have for more. He had to get that journal.

“I should probably get going,” Miyoko murmured, standing and slinging the bag over her shoulder.

Raph had to think fast. He followed her out into the lair, wracking his brain for ideas. He spotted a book, one of Leo’s with Japanese poetry. It would make a good swap in her bag. Now, how to distract her…

“Miyokocakes! I baked cookies! You gotta try them and tell me what you think,” Mikey called from the kitchen.

Perfect. Saved by Mikey’s culinary obsession. With a grin, he slipped a finger under her shoulder strap and lifted. Immediately, she grabbed her bag in a panic.

“What are you-?” she started.

Raph wagged a finger at her, admonishing, “Now, ya can’t leave without trying a cookie. You’ll break Mikey’s heart and we can’t have that, can we?”

He pulled her bag off her shoulder and made a show of setting it down by the exit. She looked skeptical, but Mikey suddenly swooped in and grabbed her hand to pull her to the kitchen. As soon as she was distracted, Raph grabbed the poetry book and made the switch. Thinking fast, he shoved the notebook under the couch cushions and then nonchalantly strutted to the kitchen for a handful of triple chocolate chunk cookies.

🍪🍪🍪

Back in the safety of his bedroom, after Miyoko had gone home, Raphael finally had the notebook in his hands. Guilt ate at him for the way he took it, but curiosity was a gnawing hunger in his gut and only reading her words would satisfy. A couple of deep breaths, and he opened the cover.

The first page wasn’t much. A few notes about work and a grocery list. So she likes Greek yogurt and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, big deal. With a huff, he flipped to the middle where a larger draft of writing caught his eye. He skimmed down until he noticed his name in the second paragraph. Wait a minute. He read a little more, then with wide eyes, he flipped back several pages. HOLY MOTHER OF GUACAMOLE AND ALL THE PATRON SAINTS OF TACOS!!!

Miyoko was writing smutty stories about him!! Him, Raphael, giant ninja turtle with an even bigger attitude, she wrote about fucking him. His eyes devoured page after page of detailed trysts. There were several things that surprised him about the sweet, shy girl. And the desire….oh, how his desire for her was growing. Once he got to the current page that she had made notes on today, he had to stop and take several deep breaths. He learned that she was aroused by his strength, intrigued with his long tongue, and wanted to be treated a little rougher. Well, he was just the turtle to provide….

📔📔📔

Miyoko was in a panic. She had searched everywhere, but her journal was missing. Oh god, what if she had left it at the lair?! She specifically remembered putting it in her messenger bag. Where could it have fallen out? If anyone saw it and read what was inside, she would just die.

The sound of tapping at her window startled her. Cautiously, she made her way over and pulled back the curtain. Raphael? What was he doing on her fire escape? She unlocked the latch and pushed it open. The barrel-chested brute climbed into her apartment, making the whole place feel tiny in comparison of his large frame. Miyoko raised a brow. He never stopped by, and she had just been at the lair a couple of hours ago.

“Hi Raph. Um, what are you doing here?” she asked softly.

Raph cleared his throat, suddenly looking guilty. He pulled something around from behind his back and held it out to her. She stared at it like it was a venomous snake about to strike. Her eyes shifted to his and she knew in that moment that he had stolen it, and that meant he had already read some of it. Miyoko wasn’t sure what was worse, her embarrassment at being caught, or her anger at his betrayal.

“I, uh, just wanted ta know more about ya,” he mumbled.

She glared, snatching the notebook out of his hands, “Then ask me. This…this…urgh!”

“Okay, okay,” Raph soothed, “I get it. What I did was sneaky and wrong. But if I hadn’t read it, I wouldn’t have known that ya like this.”

A smirk grew on his face as he strode forward, backing her up to the wall. Her eyes widened as he smacked both hands on either side of her head, then he leaned into her neck and nuzzled it with his snout. Chill bumps erupted across her skin and a shiver worked it’s way down her spine.

“Wha-what are you doing?” she squeaked.

Raph chuckled low, “I’m just fulfilling yer fantasies. I think this was in the third story I read. What happened next?”

Miyoko felt her heart nearly stop. Oh, but she did remember that story. And she knew exactly what happened next. She clenched her thighs in response and Raph growled at the action.

“Ah, I see ya remember.”

His lips skimmed over her erratic pulse, tongue slipping out to taste her smooth skin. She gasped, and he instantly moved to her mouth, not even hesitating to slip his tongue between her lips. She wanted to stay mad. She really did. But he tasted so good, and his hands were gripping her hips tightly, like he was as desperate for her as she was for him. Giving in to her lust, she kissed him back fervently, and he groaned as her little tongue rubbed against his. He took his time tasting her, building the heat between them, until she didn’t even attempt to resist his removal of her shirt. He dropped down on one knee to get closer to the hard peaks, swirling his tongue around one, then turning to suck at the other.

While he enjoyed her breasts, she moaned loudly and held his head in her hands. Who knew the quiet little bookworm could get so loud? His large mitts hooked in her joggers and the sides of her panties and slid the down her legs. Raph grinned as he pressed a kiss between her tits. Time to make the first fantasy come true. Kneeling down further, he lifted one leg over his left shoulder, and slid his hands to her backside to hold her steady. She was looking down at him through heavy, half-lidded eyes as he eased her other leg over his right shoulder. Then he stood.

“Betta brace on that ceiling, babe,” he warned her, and she pressed her hands up against the plaster.

Using the wall and ceiling to keep her right where he wanted her, Raph’s long tongue rolled out. Her cunt was in his face in this position and he decided teasing was just not in the cards tonight. He needed her ready for him. He licked and slurped, shaking his head and growling low at each pleasured gasp.

“Ya taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned before steadily thrusting his tongue in and out of her pussy.

Her hips rocked as much as she was able in her position. Miyoko smacked the ceiling when he hit a particularly sweet spot, her face flushed. He was drawing her to the edge and it was time to jump. Her body gave way without warning, bucking against his mouth and crying out. He continued to lap at her folds until her hips stilled. Then he maneuvered her until she was in his arms, pressing kisses to her sweaty forehead.

“Shall we move on to the next fantasy?” Raph rumbled.

The satisfaction on her face egged him on. He needed to make her feel more. He needed her weak from his ministrations. He needed her legs wobbly and her skin covered in his marks. He needed…fuck. He needed to make her his own.

“Which way ta yer room?”

Not trusting her own voice, she motioned to a short hallway, and he went that direction with determined strides. Her face was bright red, the reality of what he just did, and what they were about to do, making her bashful heart flutter. He laid her on the bed, then stepped back to start undressing himself. Miyoko watched every move he made, every bit of skin exposed.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” she murmured. “Am I dreaming?”

Raphael dropped his shorts to the floor, having gone commando, and grinned impishly, “My boner would say otherwise. But if it’s a dream, I don’t wanna wake up.”

“Now,” he leaned over the bed and began to climb on and stalk her as she scrambled back, “how do ya want me? On top? Behind? Under ya?”

Miyoko couldn’t stop staring at the massive erection bobbing between his legs. Would he even fit? Raphael followed her gaze and saw what had her rapt attention. He wrapped a hand around himself and gave a few hard jerks.

“Ya wanna touch me?” he growled.

Her eyes snapped up and she licked her lips. Tentatively, she wrapped her tiny hands around him and slid them up and down. A churr vibrated his chest and she stopped, unsure.

“Keep going, sweetheart. That feels amazin’,” he groaned.

Confidence restored, she pumped a little harder, and watched the look of bliss on the big guy’s face. When a bead of precum spouted out of the tip, she leaned down and caught it on her tongue.

“Fuuuuck.”

Suddenly, she was flat on her back and his tip was nudging her entrance. He pushed her legs back to open her up more and slowly eased forward. Miyoko slid her arms around his neck and held him tightly, whimpering at the intrusion.

“Mmm, so damn tight. Try to relax for me, Miyoko.”

She nodded and thought back to how it felt when it was his tongue deep in her cunt, wiggling and massaging her sensitive walls. She grew wetter at the thought and he slipped in a little further. Then an idea hit him.

“Ya know, ya aren’t the only one wit fantasies. There’re a few from yer book that I’ve imagined. Sometimes, I lay in my bed, thinking bout ya, and my hand goes wanderin’,” he whispered low.

Her eyes widened. Raph thought about her when he jerked off? He took a moment to kiss and nibble at her neck and then while gently rocking his hips, he described some of his dirtiest thoughts about her. The filthier he talked, the slicker her canal became. When he finally hilted, her eyes were glazed over with lust and her inner walls squeezed him tight.

“That’s my good girl,” Raph purred, “I want ya to be my girl. That alright wit ya?”

She felt her heart melt and nodded eagerly, “I’d love to be yours, Raphael.”

“Ya know,” he whispered, “I take good care of what’s mine.” Then he pulled back and slammed it home.

Miyoko’s cries and moans were beautiful music to his ears as he built a steady rhythm. The petite woman was so snug around him, it was all he could do not to blow his load too early. He captured her mouth and swallowed her whimpers, coaxing her tongue to explore his larger mouth. Miyoko was naturally sexy and didn’t even know it. Feeling her womb spasm, she tore her mouth away and panted and wailed, her second release even stronger than the first. Miyoko’s face was flushed and sweaty as she gazed up at his victorious smirk.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart, but we ain’t done yet. Not by a long shot,” Raph warned. “I got all night and pages of smut to fulfill.”

Miyoko surprised him again with a soft kiss to his snout. Red-faced and still a little shy, she murmured, “I have more than one notebook….”

♥️

@exovapor @tmntspidergirl @nittleboo @raisin-shell @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @mysticboombox @roxosupreme @zowise2912 @xanadu702 @brightlotusmoon @chicchanmooshy @fyreball66 @wingsofgossamer @thelostandforgottenangel @lady-maria-the-wolf225 @labeccy @0x0spunky-monkey0x0 @7mika8 @misteria247 @ladyofparchments @raphielover @tortuefaerie @bunnyraptor69 @polypandragon @avvaazz @tkappi @aurora-the-kunoichi @imthegreenfairy88 @pheradream15 @rheawritesforfun @mrsjigsaw @yumefuusen @cowabunga-doll @coulrofilia-sexuell @lilyssims @daedric-sorceress @creepylittlemarvelgirl @raphslovemuffin80 @raphsgrl @drowninghell @waterstar2016 @fluffytriceratops @angelcatlowyn @turtlesmakemehappy @kawaiibunga @narwals14

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fandom #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #raphael #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph #raph #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt fanfiction #turtlebabe83 #turtle x oc #thanks for the ask

236 notes · View notes