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chuuyascumsock · 10 months

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My Pride, My Poor— Dwindling Pride. || Minors DNI

Summary: I’ve never felt so utterly stressed out writing dominant men. Here’s your cake so you can eat it too, you filthy animals.

Tags: Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Afab reader, Top Chuuya, Bondage, Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Brat Taming, Throat Fucking, Hair Pulling, Rough Sex, Lowkey Hand Kink, Ok— Highkey Hand Kink, I Don’t Hold Back With Obscene Descriptions Now Because I Don’t Care Anymore And All My Friends Know I Have A Pegging Kink Already So Fuck It, I’m Pulling Out The Big Guns.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you made your way into executive Chuuya Nakahara’s office with a bitter expression on your face and a fussy attitude. Taking it even further— you knew exactly how vexed it made him when you threw a stack of files upon his desk with some less-than-savory comments spewing past your vulgar lips. You wanted to take it out on someone and you didn’t care who fell victim to your sour mood. You hardly even remember what you said, so peeved off that you could barely think.

But it must’ve been directed forwards Chuuya with the twisted look of perplexion and irate on his face.

You don’t even spare him a look as you turn abruptly to leave— only to pause when hearing the gritting tone of Chuuya, “Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my office like that?” He seethes, thin brows furrowing into his glabella.

Teeth clack into a clench as you spin on your heel to face him, face scrunched up with frustration. With your mind too jumbled of the earlier events of your teammates detrimental fuck up on the recent mission you just got back from— you keep quiet with a glare. Anthracite eyes glare back at you, a fire beginning to kindle and burn behind his gaze.

If you had been anyone else, surely you wouldn’t have been standing for any longer than three seconds unharmed after disrespecting Chuuya in such a way.

But your relationship with Chuuya was a strange one.

“Have you forgotten your status? Because you have some nerve coming in here, throwing shit on my desk, insulting me under your breath, and then thinking that you can just waltz out like you own the goddamn place.” Chuuya snaps, his left hand gripping his pen that’s now visibly bending from his wrath. His right hand is clenched into a fist by his papers.

Your eyes linger on his gloved hands for a moment before trailing back to his eyes. You also note the way his hat that he normally wears is sitting on a nearby hat-rack. It seems the tension and festering anger were planting small thoughts within your mind. Thoughts that were meant to be kept outside of work when no one else was there to witness a different side of the man in front of you.

You had a new plan than just to piss off anyone who came across your path.

“Whatever.”

All it takes is a clipped— one worded response, and you know his patience that tenses against a string thins to its last thread.

There’s a suffocating pressure that constricts your body before you drop to your knees. You find yourself unable to move as Chuuya stands from his desk chair, legs screeching against the hard floor. “Are we really doing this right now?” He walks around the desk, his shoes clipping the ground brutally as he comes to stand in front of you. “Is this how it’s going to be today?” His chin tilts downwards to look you in the eyes sternly as his arms cross over his chest.

You don’t say anything in return, merely biting the inside of your cheek as you debate whether he was on the same page or genuinely about to kick your shit in. You take the chance and snarkily reply, “Yeah, what are you going to do about it?”

Chuuya swipes his tongue across the bottom row of his teeth in exasperation as he glares in borderline amusement at your attitude and his arms fall to his sides. “Apologize.”

A short laugh slips past your lips before you spit out, “No.”

His glare only hardens and his fingers clench into the palms of his gloves tightly, “Apologize, now.”

“Make me,” You tilt your chin up to stare directly at him with a challenging look.

You note the burning stare that pierces back at you in utter disbelief and silence from your words, his lips parting slightly, “… What did you just say to me?”

Your eyelids lull with mirth, “I said— make me.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before his bray laughter spills throughout his office as if he had been delusionally imagining the whole interaction and your blatant audacity. It wears off quickly into a grinning scowl as you’re manhandled off the floor and thrown to bend over Chuuya’s desk. Various papers, files, and pens fly off and scatter to the ground as you choke out a breathless gasp and attempt to catch your breath. There’s not much room to struggle with the effects of his ability pinning you down in place.

One of Chuuya’s gloved hands splay across your wrists to clasp around them tightly, his leathered fingers biting into your skin. He releases his ability as he leans over you, his front pressing tightly against your back.

“I am going to fucking ruin you,” His voice rasps into a growl.

You hiss through your teeth with each struggled breath before biting into your lower lip as he continues, “I’m sick of your prissy fucking attitude today, if you want to act like a damn brat— I guess I’ll just have to fuck it out of you, huh?” He grits out as his body weighs down further into your backside, giving you the feel of his strained bulge confined in his slacks against your ass.

Your breath hitches before falling into heavier sighs as your heart pounds against your rib cage and your thighs rub together in anticipation.

Chuuya notices and a scoff escapes him, “You can’t be serious.” His lips twitch indecisively as he doesn’t know whether to frown in annoyance or laugh at your absurd reasoning behind your antagonistic actions. “That’s what you wanted? Un-fucking-believable…” He chuckles softly before it gradually grows sinister and then trails off, “You have quite the mouth on you— always rambling those pretty lips away any other time just fine. But you couldn’t use your words to ask me to fuck you? You just had to rile me up— c’mon now, Doll, you’re better than that.”

You breathe in and out through your nose heavily a few times as your voice comes out strained from the pressure in your chest, “You… I… You’re hot when you’re mad.”

Chuuya’s brows arch at your revelation, his eyes scanning over how you try to squirm under his grip. It doesn’t take long for what you said to settle in and an arrogant grin crosses his lips, “Am I now? Huh, I‘ll remember that for next time then… For now…” His grip on your wrists tighten and the other comes down to your stockings, ”Why don’t I remind you of your place that you’ve seemingly forgotten?” His fingers dig into the nylon fabric of your pantyhose under your skirt before the tearing of fabric rips through your ears.

“You dick..! Those were my only pair!” You yelp and wriggle, kicking your feet at his shins.

Chuuya ignores you, continuing to speak over your struggles, “You know, you should be on your knees sucking my dick for forgiveness right about now,” He sighs, “But as usual— you’re spoiled and I can’t help but indulge in your wants for the moment.” A gloved finger moves your underwear to the side before easily sinking into your slick pussy.

A whine escapes your throat, toes stretching your body forward in an attempt to escape the teasing and unfulfilling touch of one finger. His other hand keeps you pinned and from moving anywhere as his finger slides in and out tediously as a means to drag on your frustration and need.

“Maybe it’s my fault for giving you everything you’ve wanted, and even till now,” Chuuya growls the last part to himself as another finger stuffs itself into your sopping cunt. “Y’know— you’re so fuckin’ lucky I can’t help myself when it comes to you, or things would’ve went a lot more differently today.” He huffs, mindlessly dragging and scissoring his leather clad fingers against your soft walls. “I get enough shit from the other bastards who think they have enough balls to even turn their noses up in my direction.”

“M’sorry, Chuu—“ Your voice pitches off into a moan as his digits curl and press into a familiar and sensitive spot.

Chuuya chuckles and goes back to slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, “I don’t care now, I know what you really want— but use your words next time instead of makin’ me think I did somethin’ wrong to deserve your attitude, ‘kay, Doll?”

You nod in return, though it’s subtle with how much you’ve already melted under his touch. Your eyelids flutter and you mumble about how you won’t don’t it again before your body tenses and a short, soft cry slips out from the sudden change in pace of his fingers that piston into you.

“Don’t think that you’re not going to be punished for your little stunt earlier just because you said sorry, though,” He clicks, pulling his fingers all the way out and slapping his wet digits against your clit. “You’re going to have to put that mouth to use for a proper apology.”

Blood rushes to your face and up the nape of your neck as a whimper creeps through, turbulent jolts of excitement flip in your lower stomach at his actions before hearing the subtle noise of his belt clinking. You only grow restless further as he nearly rips the belt from his pants to wrap the leather around your wrists, keeping them bound to your back. Chuuya slips an index finger into the loop of the tied belt, tugging you to stand up before you’re spun around and pushed by the shoulders to fall to your knees.

Your eyes set on his hard cock in front of your face, pre-cum weeping from the tip down his length. He wraps a gloved hand around his girth, stroking himself slowly as a smug grin presents itself on his face. His chin tilts down to look at you, index finger and thumb digging into your cheeks to unhinge your jaw.

“Open wide for me, Doll.”

The taste of his bitter cum has your mouth watering, tip gliding along your tongue until it nudges past your uvula and bullies the back of your throat softly. Your throat convulses around him before you gag, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you breathe through your nose.

Chuuya groans, his hand moving from your jaw to weave through your hair, tugging the locks to strain against your scalp. He pulls you forward until your nose is buried against the happy trail leading down his lower stomach to his groin. “Fuck, if only you could see yourself choking on my cock right now,” He shakily breathes out as his eyes burn the image into his mind.

You pant heavily through your nose— or at least you try to— finding it hard to breathe with his cock stuffed half-way down your throat.

It isn’t until a few seconds later that he draws his hips back, allowing air to fill your lungs for a moment before bucking into your throat once more as he holds your head in place. Your fingers clench as your wrists jolt against the belt— an involuntary urge to dig your nails into his thighs clawing at you. There’s no build up in speed as he skips right into fucking your throat like a personal fleshlight, every thrust bruising your soft palate. Your whimpers are drowned out by the wet squelching of his girth slipping in and out of the convulsing walls of your throat along with Chuuya’s grunts and half-assed bitten back moans.

“Fuuuck, I could just come down your pretty fuckin’ throat like this,” He gasps before another guttural groan leaves him. Then, he lets out a breathy, rugged laugh as his eyes watch you leeringly, “Christ, Doll, you’re makin’ a mess.” He points out, a mix of his pre-cum and your saliva splatters against your chin messily every time he touches the back of your throat.

It takes a few more thrusts until he forces himself to pull out, leaving you coughing and sputtering violently. You gasp for air greedily through your mouth after he pulls out, tears spilling over from the coughing fit. He lifts your chin with a hand and wipes away his pre-cum mixed with your snot dripping from your nose with a satisfied grin. “God, you’re so good f’me, Doll,” He borderline slurs over his words before pulling you back up to your feet and pushing you back onto his desk.

The hardwood is uncomfortable underneath you as your arms are still tied and pressing into your back, but you’re too light headed and burning with need to notice. Chuuya is quick to shove his way past your thighs and bury himself inside you to the hilt. It takes everything in him not to come with your tight, sopping pussy clenching around him. You swear you can hear him whimper quietly into your chest as he presses his hips flush against yours.

“Please, please fuck me, I need to come s’bad, Chuu,” You plead weakly as tears dry against your cheeks, throat raw and sore from his relentless deep throating just prior moments ago.

He shudders at your broken voice before slowly grinding his hips against you, “Gimme a damn minute,” He growls before panting, “Or I’ll fuckin’ come right now.”

Your head drops back to rest against the desk as you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, the heels of your feet spurring him on to move.

His grinding turns into brief and shallow thrusts before he’s snapping his hips into you roughly, his hands finding purchase to grip at the edge of his desk on either side of your head. His forehead presses into your sternum as he desperately drives his cock as far as he can into your welcoming heat, pre-cum and slick frothing at the base of his length with every thrust.

Quickly, he reaches a hand down between your bodies to press and rub against your aching clit. Your lips part as pitchy moans and mewls fall through, the familiar knotting feeling in your lower stomach growing tenfold as your back arches into Chuuya. “M’gonna come, please— I can’t, I’m— fuck,” You ramble incoherently as you rut your hips to meet his thrusts, skin slapping wet aginst one another.

“I know, Doll, I know— Shit, you’re squeezing around my cock so fuckin’ tight,” He grits, eyes clenching shut as his hips begin to stutter and rolls your clit between his thumb and index finger.

A choked whine drags out as your legs tighten around him to bring him as close as possible and your body shudders violently under him as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Chuuya follows after a few more thrusts with a graveled moan, his cock burying itself as deep as possible as his cum smothers your walls in warmth.

He collapses against you, red in the face and covered in sweat that makes his bangs stick to his forehead and cheeks. You’re not much different aside from the occasional shiver from the aftermath. A few moments go by before you heavily sigh and your breathing steadies along with his.

“God damn…” He murmurs against the skin of your sternum before placing a soft peck over your calming heart. “You’re seriously going to be the death of me, Doll,” He picks his head up and leans over, pressing his lips against yours in a lingering kiss.

“Sorry,” You respond apathetically.

His brows scrunch together and his eyes squint, “You don’t sound sorry.”

“Cause m’not really,” You tiredly grin, earning a quiet scoff from him.

“You’re something else.”

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya smut #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #what the hell did I just write 😭#devious dambi smuts

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fatesundress · 10 months

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⭑ made with love. draco malfoy x reader

summary. it's winter, you’re sick, and draco is extremely rational a terrible, doting mess about it.

tags. fluff! so much fluff! married couple, gn!reader, lots of banter, post-hogwarts with one fleeting mention of the war, draco's anxiety is whetted by a common cold, he basically treats the reader like they hung the moon in the sky and also have the power to yank it down at any given moment. he's very grumpy. but so so in love.

note. my sweet anons!! i tried on three separate occasions to write the requests in my inbox but sometimes i need to be in the depths of hell (ovulation week) to manage smut. i'm sorry. i've made some progress i swear! but the draco hyperfixation came out of NOWHERE and unfortunately i had to indulge in it. also thank you so much for 200! :’)

word count. 1.6k

You are deplorable.

With a fever temperature of 40° and explicit instructions to stay in bed, you’re discernibly not in bed when he makes it home from the apothecary, a jumbled mess of the blankets he’d swathed you in left in your place. Your slippers are absent. Your slippers — in two feet of snow. Your coat is gone too, at least; ridiculously thick and unnecessarily long, though now he’s thankful for it.

Draco paces. Then he sets the Pepperup Elixir over a flame at his desk to keep warm, pours two drops of Sleeping Draught into a mug for your tea, and paces again.

He should have insisted on binding rings for your wedding, he thinks. Something to trace you in emergencies. There’s little to do without them as you’ve evidently either taken the Floo or Apparated, and, in truth, he can’t remember the last time he’s been this nervous. In school, perhaps? During the war? You have him comparing his nerves over a bad cold to those he felt during war. The insanity of that is actually not lost on him, if that counts for anything.

But you are deplorable, and his. His almost as much as he is maddeningly, irremediably yours.

How he allowed an aliment like this to infect him goes against all evolutionary sense. It’s a fever of its own. Incurable despite knowing its cause, and probably festering worse than yours.

And then the fireplace hisses and out you stumble with soot on one cheek and frost on the other, the neck of your coat zipped up to swallow half of your face. In an arm shoved deep in your pocket, a bag swings from the puffy coat crease of your elbow, and Draco baulks. It’s a muggle grocery bag — translucent enough that he can see the square imprint of your favourite sleepy-time tea, a chocolate bar, cans of what he thinks are soup, and — a lemon? Yes. A big miserable lemon that you’ve deigned was worth almost killing yourself over.

Draco does not hear whatever excuses escape your chattering teeth as he plucks your hand from its pocket, puts the bag down, pulls off your coat while you slap at his hands and insist you can do it yourself, and only because he thinks you’d hex him to oblivion if he tried, leads you with a hand on your back to the bedroom rather than hauling you into his arms and carrying you.

“A lemon,” he says, and is aware by the severity of his tone he might as well be saying a gun, or a missile, or a milk crate of Living Death cartons. “You forayed into a snowstorm for a lemon. Do you think I’m incapable of reading a grocery list? I just Flooed —”

“I got more than a lemon,” you huff in a weak voice.

It is appalling that that’s what you take from his admonishment.

Your snow-soaked slippers are tossed aside as you tumble into bed. Draco bundles you in blankets and holds his wand out to take your vitals. You roll your eyes all the while, but once the cold wears off he’s sure you’ll be burning hotter than you were this morning.

He shakes his head. “Lemons are common stock in apothecaries, you know. The shavings are essential in Weedosoros antidotes.”

“Yes, but they’re always so dry.”

“And chocolate — they sell it at Téa’s across the street for the magizoologists. Did you know that?”

“Hmph. No Cadbury, though.”

“And I’ve already warmed the Pepperup and poured you Sleeping Draught, despite your urgency for this —” He pulls the box of tea from your grocery bag, impressed with an image of a little bear with a red nightcap, a steaming cuppa, and a plate of biscuits — “Inarguably superior muggle panacea —”

“I never claimed it was a panacea —”

“Of which we should have distributed to St. Mungo’s en masse. In fact, I should owl them now so they’re informed the Sleeping Draughts are ineffective by comparison —”

“You’re insufferable —”

“Imagine all the orphans without rest —”

“Actually ridiculous —”

“You’re ridiculous. And I hate this bear. Look at his hat. Bloody Gryffindor.”

“Do you know what the wizarding world is lacking? — If you’re concerned enough to make a donation, Mr Malfoy?”

You think it’s hilarious to call him that. He does well not to mention you are, by law, also a Malfoy, and his money is your money to donate as you please.

“What is that?”

“Soup,” you say. “Canned soup — canned with love.”

“We are lacking soup canned with love,” Draco repeats, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be sure to write the Minister.”

“Do.”

“Only if you stay in bed.”

“Hmmm… mmmm… well. Hm.”

“Incorrigible,” he mumbles, brushing the damp from your face before getting up to fix your tea. (He kisses your cheek for good measure, big sop that he is. You do well not to mention it.) “Don’t move or I’ll cast wards on the fireplace.”

“Oh! Cast wards on the doors, too. I might go for a walk.”

He glares at you from the archway. Your answering laugh is broken by a coughing fit, and you look reluctantly glum when he raises a told-you-so brow.

Draco mutters about how ridiculous you are through the kitchen and back, as he steeps your tea, heats your soup, unstoppers the Pepperup Elixir, pours it in an old shot glass from a trip to Italy (you have no graduated plastic cups lying around), squeezes the big stupid lemon in your tea, carries it all to your bed on a tray and realises, still muttering, that these are a lot of steps. But Draco balances the tray without an utterance of magic. It’s rather impressive. You should be sorely sorry.

You are, instead, asleep.

You’re splayed across the bed like something Baroque, limbs fascinatingly posed: half under the blankets and half stubbornly poking out despite his fervent tucking, head nuzzled into the pillow with a slight frown. If Draco were any better with a camera he’d take a picture. Instead he takes careful steps to your bedside, placing the tray on the nightstand and sitting as close as he can manage without disturbing the (once more, revolutionary) arrangement of your legs. It feels criminal to wake you. His fretful anger that you’d gone out in the cold is whittled to a humiliatingly thin and empty husk, and all that remains is mushy adoration. Damn you for that; you look ridiculous anyhow.

Draco kisses your cheek again. Your nose. Your forehead. He traces an invisible portrait of your face with his fingers, as if he’s ever drawn anything better than nasty stick figures on crumpled parchment in school. You, though, he thinks he knows well enough by memory to try.

You stir, not too far from consciousness that it’s a challenge to find it again, but far enough to be audibly vexed by his summons to the surface.

Draco means to berate you in that way he's so good at — chin pointed and scowl permanently etched — but you grumble with a sick, hoarse voice and he falters in a pathetic display. “You forgot your love-suffused muggle soup,” he whispers, one hand cupping your cheek.

“Ugh.”

“Heinous, I know. Sit up for me?”

“Magic word.”

There’s his scowl. “Alohomora.”

“Not that magic word.”

“Imperio.”

“Unforgivables, Draco Malfoy?”

“Hmm, Locomotor Wibbly?”

You sink further into the bed, pulling the uppermost blanket over your head inch by inch.

“Please,” he says, with profound displeasure.

You sit up and smile.

Draco sighs and lays the legs of the tray out over your lap. You regard his service with sleepy content, one of your hands travelling to his face in what his heart surges to appreciate is an honest thanks after his several near-heart attacks, and then your gaze finds the medically expert Pepperup in an Italian shot glass and it falls.

You groan. “Draco…”

His name says, quite plainly, please don’t make me.

Draco has enough self-respect to at least deny you this. “Wards.”

That says, quite plainly, I was not joking about the fireplace.

You look as though you’re contemplating the severity of two horrors, but it passes fleetingly, with one curse under your breath and a sour expression as you down the shot of Pepperup like… a shot. Burning Ogden’s that scrunches your face up until you shake it away with a blagh noise.

Come to think of it, Draco's choice of glass is much more appropriate than some medical cup.

“Better?”

You shudder. “I will be.”

“Good. Have your love soup and stupid lemons.”

And then, when he isn’t expecting it, your hot palm finds the place it left off; Draco’s healthily warm, sharp cheek, the soft fuzz of hair beside his ears before your fingers card through the longer strands and you hum like he’s your favourite thing to hold onto.

He melts, eyes fluttering shut. You’re sick, and wholeheartedly deplorable, but you’re safe, and it’ll be alright.

“Draco?”

“Mm.”

“The soup.”

He opens his eyes. “The soup?”

“You know it was canned with love.”

“I trust you wouldn’t have bought it otherwise.”

“And,” you say, thumb flush over his bottom lip as you smile a groggy, self-satisfied smile, “it was made with love, too, right?”

He rolls his eyes, and kisses you nonetheless. “You never cease to ask absurd questions.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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thedivinershiddenarchive · 1 year

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the childhood best friend.

CHARACTERS ; yandere!imaginary friend!childe;tartaglia x fem!reader

SUMMARY ; It's been a while that you've last met your imaginary friend, more specifically, your childhood one. But his intentions with you are different. Now, he's changed. He's much more forceful and possesive and now he can't take in the sight of you being miserable. And he wants to fix that, but he made it much worse for you.

CONTENT ; dub-con, imaginary friends, possesiveness and jealousy, usage of "(little) dove/girlie/sweet girl/darling/sweetheart", childe can read/hear your thoughts, riding, fingering, biting and sucking, teasing, mentally-broken reader, very minor character death, a bit of gaslighting, very small implication of manipulation, praise kink, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampies, supernatural or is it all in your head?

masterlist | tag system | 17-, MASC-ALIGNED DNI!

“Ginger!” you cheered, running up to the ginger that was playing alone on the sandbox. The moment his eyes laid on you, he stood up quickly and sprinted towards you, hugging your figure and swinging you around with a laugh. “Dove, you’re here!”

“Of course I would be! Where else do I go when I play?” you pout and he chuckled, “Well, your other friends.”

“You mean the ones that I’ve left to travel somewhere else? Yeah right.” you puffed your cheeks, causing him to pinch them. “Hey!” you grinned and ran up to him and pinched him, causing the boy to snicker. “Can’t help it.”

“I just realized you’ve only been calling me ‘Ginger’ a lot.. I think it’s time for me to have a real name like a real person!” he lilted and you gripped your chin, thinking hard on what name you’ll give him. Hah, no wonder you haven’t given him a title, none stuck out to him and you couldn’t think of anything. “I don’t know at all…” you whine and he pouts.

“[Y/N], can you come with me? I need to buy some Ajax detergent so I can clean the house a bit.” your mother calls out from the bench, standing up and gathering her things laying on the seat and you feel your smile widened. “Ajax!” you pointed at him and you saw Ajax’s eyes glimmer.

“I’ll take it! It sounds so good!” you felt proud, even putting your hands on your hips, pleased with his given name despite getting it from a cleaning product. “[Y/N]!” your mom calls you again and you jump a bit and scurry over her, giving your hand to your friend and he takes it, walking with you towards the woman who was waiting for you with a confused face. “What is this girl into right now?”

“Don’t be scared, I’m here!” Ajax cooed as he held you close to him, you weren’t a big fan of horror movies, especially when you’re so young. Having nightmares aren’t a normal occurrence but you were thankful to have the ginger close to you so you could feel safe.

“You can open your eyes now,” you trusted his words and open them, you feel him hold your hand and lips placed on your knuckles. You leaned onto him more, his touch… Felt so real.

Your promise started here, out of the moment, you confessed that you wanted to be friends ‘til the end. That you want him to be near you and have each moment between the two of you be fun and amazing. You just didn’t know how this promise has improved your relationship with each other the older you got, you may or may not have regretted making that. You know how he likes his promises to be kept and takes them seriously.

You were about eight years old when you started making up imaginary friends, how lonely were you that you used this to cope? Now you have three more people in your jumbled mind to tolerate. Well, they aren’t that bad. They can’t hurt you in any type of way but it does stress you out more.

Now you’re a twenty year old working a dead-end job, you’ve never encountered them ever again. Even after the promise you’ve made with “Ajax” that you guys will still be connected, he hasn’t appeared, thankfully. Hell, it's been so long that you don't even know what he looks like now.

“Get these papers done by the end of your shift, [Y/N].” your co-worker demanded, dropping a stack of paperwork on your desk and leaving you with it. You let out a frustrated groan and almost slammed your fist down the table but you kept your cool.

This will take a while.

You tiredly flopped on your couch, you would’ve slept right there right now if it weren’t for something sinking on the cushion. You exasperatedly looked over your shoulder to see someone sitting on it. You immediately widened your eyes in horror, knowing that someone might have broken into your house and you quickly got up.

What you didn’t expect was a normal-looking teenage boy who looked like he just got out of bed, but the said boy looked familiar. Way too familiar. That tired grin and blue ocean eyes that showed no light whatsoever looking right at yours. “Did I disturb you, dove?”

Dove? Why did that feel like you’ve heard this before. Maybe you did but you’re just forgetful. “I’ll take that as a yes, you did have a hard time at work. Not like it’s a foreign sight to see you on your desk as you handle those pesky paperwork. Maybe that’s why you don’t have time for me anymore..” that whiney voice, how did he know all that? I mean, yeah it’s obvious that you were a minimum wage worker but literally anyone with your job can be tired of it. But what creeped you out is that out of all the employees that worked at your place, you were the one who he spied on the most.

“Who are you?” you questioned, raising your brow in suspicion. He only chuckled loudly, almost psychotically. “You still don’t remember me? Ah… When was the last time you’ve imagined me again…? Right, when your stupid crush rejected you at work and that was a year ago. Or maybe two..? Hah, even I forgot,” you sweat, his brows knitted together and his crooked smile widening, “it’s been that long, huh?”

“You didn’t tell me who you are, ginger..” you scowled, moving away, picking your phone up from your bag in case. “Ginger.” he mutters, cupping his cheek with his palm. That nickname was anything but unfamiliar.

“Is that really your name?”

“No way. Seriously, if you don’t know my name, should I just tell you?”

“Should’ve done that when we first met.”

“First met? I promise you this, [Y/N]. We’ve met a lot. And I don’t take my promises lightly.” it came out as a growl, you know better than to not piss him off but he did make you angry at first. Though that isn’t an excuse to be straight up dead right now.

“Call me Ajax, okay, little dove?” Ajax whispers when he crawls to you to get closer to your ear, his deep voice is much more clearer and it makes you shiver. And scared. Instead of hearing one voice, you hear multiple. You hear four in total, you feel unsafe, afraid.

You pushed him away but he caught your wrists in his and gave you a playful grin, “Does it ring a bell?” Indeed it does. Ajax, The one who comforted you through the harsh rejection of your co-worker, the one who played with you for so long when your friends couldn’t keep in contact with you because of you constantly moving out.

“You make a promise, you keep it. Or the ice breaks your tongue and you never lie again.” The man spoke those very specific lines from the nursery rhyme he got from TV. “And we promised to be together, be friends ‘til the end. I would’ve actually stayed if you hadn't kept me away for so long.”

He pushed you on the couch and you struggled against his hold. What is this? He was supposed to be an imaginary friend! Someone who can’t hurt you, someone who can’t hold you physically, so why can he touch you?

“Ouch, I’m hurt. You only think of me as an imaginary friend? Someone who can’t touch you like this?” he emphasizes with a knee on your clothed crotch, rubbing lightly. “I can hear your thoughts, girlie. Because I’m just a figment of your mind, so it’s interesting hearing what you have in that brain of yours.”

“Stop!” you push him, kick him, anything, but he wouldn’t budge. It looked like he wasn’t even bothered with the fight you’re trying to put in. “Why should I stop?”

You’re thinking hard, thinking of him just disappearing. To stop his rough grip on your body. Your breathing quickens when his teeth touch your neck, his tongue working on your skin and sucking on it.

You quickly went quiet when the voices in your head told you to, you didn’t know what had come to you. You didn’t know why you listened to it, you know that what you did was on command and that you no longer have control.

“Finally, you shut up. It was getting really frustrating to deal with you being noisy.” he had you on his lap, lightly grinding his tented crotch against your clothed pussy, moaning quietly as his cock slowly stimulated.

Ajax tickled your skirt before bunching it up and stroking your cunt through the fabric of your panties, you hate your body for reacting to it. You know you don’t want it, no. But your body reacts differently from what you’re thinking right now. “Aww, look how wet you got? Do you actually like this?”

“I thought you could read my thoughts, asshole. Of course I don’t.”

“Then why are you getting wet?” he murmurs, letting his fingers slip in your clothing and into your hole. “Let yourself go for me, babe.“ purring, he connects his lips into yours and drinks up your moans. You absolutely hate how good he makes you feel, even if you didn’t want this. Didn’t want to get fingered by your own imagination.

“Still thinking about that? Even if you’re lost in pleasure?”

“Shut up already..” you grunted as he curled inside of your pussy. He loves the way your nose scrunches as you try not to make too much noise to satisfy him or to let your neighbors hear. You’ll feel embarrassed when they check up on you and see you moaning at nothing.

“Like I said, let yourself go.” he emphasizes with a harsh thrust that has you gripping on his digits tight. Ajax pulls them out and forces them into your mouth to taste yourself, “Suck.” That command alone had you doing what he said. You were afraid of him going too rough on you. And he knows that.

He doesn’t mind how hard you cling onto his shoulder blades, how your teeth bit into the skin of his fingers. He only focused on how good he made you feel to even forget how much of an asshole he was.

Your breath hitches when his lengthy digits hit your throat before pulling them out of your mouth, seeing the string of saliva connected to his fingers. He takes them into his mouth and tastes your saliva mixed with your juices, letting out a satisfied moan from how good you taste.

“You think you’re ready for me, sweet thing?” he said with a hint of persistence in his tone. He must be much needier than you, most likely after the both of you became disconnected for so long.

“N-not yet.”

“Why not? You seem more than ready. Don’t tease me, now.” he pulls your collar towards him, making you fall with him. Ajax was now laying on the couch by his back while you were sitting up on his hard-on.

“Take my pants off. You better take it all once it’s inside.” he demands, a scowl appearing on his face as he sees your hesitant hands trying to unbutton his jeans. “Don’t be so slow. It’s frustrating me.”

You whimpered when his hands gripped your hips, forcing you to roll your crotch over his. He moaned quietly as he continued the procedure until you finally undo his pants. “Touch it already.”

“You’re quite demanding for someone that’s under me.”

“You wanna switch positions then? I don’t mind which way. As long as I can make you fucked out of your mind, I’ll be satisfied.”

You purse your lips, deciding to stay silent, even when he lowers his underwear and palms his length right in front of you, letting out groans of pleasure while he glances at you, begging you to touch him. The sight of his cock had you distracted, the sheer size with the veins popping out. “Are you gonna watch and look pathetic or are you gonna take it for me?”

Ajax forces himself out of his briefs and has you hovering over his cock. He lightly brushes the tip over your wet entrance, letting your juices stain his hard-on until it was dripping on his entire length. You muffled your moans through closed lips, not wanting to satisfy him further.

“You sound and taste so good, I wonder how you feel inside of me.” He grinds upwards, letting you sink into his dick with each roll of his hips. This went for a while ‘til he filled you to the brim with his member. He threw his head back while his nails marked your waist from how hard he was squeezing.

“Feels much more amazing, fuck…” his breath hitches as he sets a pace, plunging upwards that it even starts hitting your cervix from how deep he was. You hated him, even if you haven’t interacted with him for a year. Even if you get wet from his praises.

But it felt so good, he felt so fucking big that he hits inside every sweet spot. Ajax felt the same, how you clenched around him and how your breasts jiggled through the fabric of your loose shirt.

He admitted that he hated watching you from afar, looking miserable. But he hated it more when you cried over a man who didn’t deserve your affection. I mean, it was fine to reject someone but to embarrass them about it? That was what had his blood pumping in anger.

Nobody would know where his body is now nor will they know what happened to him. Now you’re wondering, how could someone get physical when they’re not real? There has to be a reason, right? A reason for how he’s touching you, holding you, and even making you feel so good.

“Mine, all mine. I'm all that you'll ever need...” he growls whilst pulling you towards him and smashing your lips on his, drinking up your gasp and whines. You know how obsessive he can be if you think back on it, jealous of how other kids try to play with you but you always get pulled back by an invisible force.

Ajax has you for himself now. But he has a deal with your other friends so he has to make every second worth it. Even if you can’t take it anymore.

You keep bouncing on his cock, taking in how good it feels with each hit. You grasp on his shoulders so tightly as he continues making sweet sounds into your mouth. “Sweet girl, you feel so good, god..” he snuggles into your pair of breasts, giving them open-mouthed kisses. His saliva dripped on the skin and bruises that he made.

Your bodies were intertwined with one another, sweat can be seen dripping on your foreheads as the both of you continued your rough sessions. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

You could only groan in response, nestling your face on his neck to find comfort in as he continues lunging inside of you. Ajax can’t let you go from how hard he’s holding your waist.

Even as you wail in pleasure and see stars, you still hide your face from him. The twitch of his hips as he empties himself inside of you and long soughs can be heard from near your ear.

You felt comfortable enough to pull out of his neck but the moment you laid your eyes on the supposed man under you, he was gone. You furrow your brows in confusion and look at the lower half of your body to still see that it hasn't changed.

What was that? I mean it was just a figment of your imagination but it felt so real to the point it can touch you… The bruises on your body were still there. You believe that this wasn’t something mental. You were too focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice the door knocking.

You perk up and quickly wore your panties and used your skirt to hide what was under it. You looked through the peephole to see… nothing? You opened the door to see what was actually outside but you only spotted a picture of you hugging nothing. You went stiff, you could only theorize you were hugging the same ginger-haired boy but he wasn’t there.

You convinced your parents to take a picture at some point and of course, they were weirded out when no one was by your side but they played it off as some innocent childhood play that you were in.

You flipped the picture to see another one attached to it, it was you on the couch trying to push, again, nothing. It’s all invisible. If he isn’t there at all, what was touching you? Why can you feel it when in reality nothing was there?

Now this was something unexplainable but scary. Was it really in your head? You’ll have to learn more somewhere else. But you still have work from nine-to-five. So maybe you can check in the library tomorrow after your shift. Hopefully, you won't meet him again there.

#notsodivininglover ; king’s pages #childe x reader #childe smut #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut

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poohwhin · 1 year

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tsym @darker-overlord for the tag <3 (putting this here instead of on vivi’s blog just bc ‼️) template | also the image i used for virek is outdated & i dont like it but its what we’re working with ‼️ also i’m tagging @kindan-no-kanojo & @komori--shoma you have no choice but to do this 🔫 /j (pls you dont have to SKSKSK)

believe it or not i try not to give myself too many character inspirations— i mean i take small aspects of a character sometimes for silly traits but. thats not the point— bc then i overload myself & the story i want becomes a jumbled mess and its not fun anymore. (see: my old dl oc SKSKSK). so i also just went w concepts(?) ideas(?) i looked at when creating his foundation. BUT. I’LL EXPLAIN THE ONES I DO HAVE.

William James Moriarty (YnM/MtP). In a more general AU/outside the canon dl timeline, this is where this inspo comes in. sort of. I’m ngl to you i just got so hyped seeing William pull off insane stunts & plans and shit and was like “i want my character to do that” SKSKS.

Kiyotaka Ayanokoji (CETE). Probably the main source of inspo for vivi’s foundations??? i watched classroom of the elite and looked at ayanokoji’s backstory & just general character & really enjoyed it. (also i 100% stole his silly way of responding w absolute NONSENSE.)

Yuichi Katagiri (TG). Bro’s absolutely insane. That’s it that’s the inspo. (jkjk; i just like the way this man is 37939393 steps of everyone else).

OKAY. those are really shitty explanations for those three but! all three of them kinda melded together in my brain so i’ll elaborate more here; all of them inspired virek’s intelligence, way of doing things/conducting themself, etc…

OKAY NOW FOR CONCEPTS!

The Devil. More like a role than anything literal— But then it evolved to an actual nickname virek was called SKSKS. I specifically based Virek of the idea that the Devil wasn’t the serpent itself— But rather the thing who sent it. tldr: if karl’s god then virek is the devil that’s fuckin everything up just by existing 💃

Smoking/Drug Usage. This isn’t too big, but more of a subtle part of his character. I really wanted to have a character with just rancid, acid blood SKSKSSK. (not literally but you get it). So he smokes (also bro has an oral fixation so he smokes to relieve that sksk). and ofc. thanks to child goofy silly moments, has a bunch of chemicals in his system.

Dehumanisation. OKAY THIS is already a thing that happens just irl, but for virek i cranked it up to the extreme. (this also might not be the right word but yeah.) i really wanted just a regular, human character, who refused to believe that he was human. not only was he at the bottom of the barrel of humanity, isolated in some unknown place— but he was ostracised amongst rejects, so he’s like “shit guess i’m not human huh”. (its deeper than that but yeah).

ANYWAYS I DID THE PROMPT WRONG SO OOPSIE. I GAVE YOU THREE CHARACTERS & THREE CONCEPTS.

#tag game #dia talk #my sweet bby boy #i care him so hard

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year

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The Dark Passenger - Chapter Eleven.

Big thanks to you all for your continue readership, as usual! :) 40 notes unlocks the next chapter, guys!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Words - 3,272

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

She was going to leave, wanting her own space, still so jumbled up after the incident the previous night. There in his arms, though, listening to his heart beating as he held her calmly, professing his love, Camille felt comfortable. Content was a stretch, a part of her still felt fear towards him, but she knew the EZ that held her hadn’t been the same man who had knocked her out.

The two were different. Not many people would agree, most would say she was in denial, but Camille knew in her heart. All he needed was help, and someone to believe in him. What was frightening about it all, though, was the fact that the man she loved came and went so rapidly. She felt as if she was walking on eggshells, and she knew, she knew so clearly that it would soon become more exhausting than it already was. In her head, everything was frantic, her heart beginning to thunder with the stress of it.

She knew what she needed to do in that moment. “I’m going to go home, EZ. I think I need a little me time.” Pushing herself up, she stroked his chest, her boyfriend nodding in understanding.

“I get it. I didn’t even expect this, for you to come and lie here with me, but after everything you said, I really don’t blame you. I’d want to get away from me, too.”

Picking up her bag, she paused, looking down at him. How could he, her sweet, kind EZ, have such a ferocious duality inside of him? She didn’t understand. “I’ll call you in a couple of days.” Leaning to him, she gave a chaste kiss, turning and leaving the apartment, heading back outside, a few of the other guys present now, Gilly and Bishop throwing Sally her ball, the latter turning to approach.

“Mother of fucking god,” he began, touching a gentle hand to her cheek. “Thank Christ nothing is broken, it’d be swollen massively if it was.” He was quiet for a moment, shaking his head before pulling her into a hug. She leaned against him, the smell of his woody cologne and leather filling her nose, Bishop feeling awful for her.

“It looks way worse than it is,” she revealed when they parted, her mouth upturning a fraction. “It hurts, but not as much as it looks like it should.”

He nodded, lines of sympathy creasing his handsome features. “I want you to take my cell number. If this happens again and we aren’t around, you run, get yourself somewhere safe and call me. Angel and I, we’re keeping a close eye on his behaviour relating to the club, but now I’ve seen what he’s capable of doing to his old lady, I ain’t comfortable with knowing you don’t have someone there for you, so now I am. That is, unless you came back here to dump his ass, for which no one could blame you.”

“I didn’t. I know that beneath all the rage and the flip switch temper, he’s still in there, the EZ I love, the man he was all the time, long before I met him. I want to help him find his way back to that person. People probably think I’m naïve and gullible, and I guess that’s somewhat true, but I can’t ignore something that I believe with such conviction.” Taking her phone out, she took down his number, Bishop giving another hug and a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Any time, day or night. All you have to do is call, sweetheart.” She thanked him again, heading to her car, the engine firing into life with a thunderous roar, Bishop grabbing hold of Sally while Gilly opened the gates up, blowing her a little kiss from two fingertips as she drove through.

It was one of those journey’s where she had no idea how she’d arrived at her home, pulling onto her drive and not being able to recall a second of it, her mind was so consumed by her current situation. Looking in her rear view, she assessed her face, the bruise dark and painful. It matched just how she felt inside.

Once inside, stripped from her clothes with a bath running, she looked at it again in her bathroom mirror, her fingers gingerly touching where it had swollen, thankful to Nestor that he’d immediately brought her the ice she’d held to it, preventing it from puffing up any more than it had. A little press too hard sent a shooting pain through her cheekbone, the moment of impact playing through her head, how enraged EZ had looked just before his knuckles had met her cheek.

She jumped, her whole body remembering, preparing itself for flight mode, although the danger was now gone.

Was it, though?

He’d done it once; he could easily lose control of himself in the future and do it again. Therapy might not help him at all. Her unshakable belief that the EZ whom she loved could prevail over the darker side of his nature suddenly felt a little shook. Taking a deep breath, she held it, letting it out slowly as she pulled her hair up atop her head, securing it with a scrunchie, opening up her bathroom cabinet and pulling out a tube of arnica cream. She always kept it, wanting to heal any bruises she suffered from the more extravagant moves upon a pole quickly in order for her skin to remain flawless.

After smothering some onto her cheek, she added a pour of rose and vanilla oil to her bath, sinking down into the water with a relieved sigh. Gilly and Amelia’s couch had only been comfortable for the first few hours of sleeping on it. Their two cats, Miso and Mushu had also insisted on sleeping with her, the feel of them both contentedly kneading dough on her thighs waking her at several points throughout the night.

Whether it was tiredness or making a conscious effort to try and put her thoughts over EZ to the back of her mind, or perhaps a little of both, she managed to doze off in the tub for a while, the water still lovely and hot when she awoke, stretching, giving herself a little neck and shoulder rub. Smiling sadly, she thought of the times he’d done the same for her, sitting between his legs in bed, lying back against his chest afterwards, feeling so tiny compared to him.

Once she was out of the bath, she picked up her phone, thinking about calling him but deciding better of it. Instead, she called Trudi and explained that she wouldn’t be in at work for the week, revealing to her a white lie of an ankle sprain to explain her absence, the same told to Martin, clearing her week. She could cover her bruising with makeup, but the bloodshot eye might be a little harder to explain. The crimson bled into almost all of the white.

She knew in doing that, avoiding the questions, she was protecting him from the deserving scrutiny he’d face from the people in her life if they discovered he’d hit her. Truly, though, she was doing it for herself. She didn’t want anyone’s opinion of her, him, or their relationship tainted, not when she believed she could recover him from this.

It was while she was looking in her diary for any other engagements she might have to cancel, that she saw one she truly couldn’t, with the people she had to hide it from the most. There it was for the following Saturday afternoon; lunch with her parents, her taking EZ to meet her dad for the first time and continue getting to know her mom.

“I’ll be sleeping with my head in a vat of arnica until Saturday, then.” she muttered. With nothing to do with her week now she’d cancelled it, Camille wandered around her house, gaining a few ideas on how to occupy her time. She’d succumbed to the fashion of pastels and grey for interiors, loving the soft, relaxing vibe of her bedroom, with sheepskin rugs and faux fur throws, beautiful jersey linen bedding, roses, peonies and candles everywhere, but for the rest of the house, she thought it perhaps need a little variation.

A staggering one thousand, three hundred and thirty something dollars later, and she’d ordered everything from paint and fixings to new furnishings and ornaments, ready to embark upon her redecorating project.

By Monday night, her lounge had gone from grey and pink to grey and deep teal, little additions of dark gold furnishings such as curtains and cushions adding splashes of colour to keep it bright and cheerful. By Wednesday, her bathroom was changed from solely brilliant white tiles and walls to a rich sage green replacing it, making the tiles stand out beautifully in contrast. Camille had even bought new brushed gold taps for the sink and bath, and a new showerhead she managed to fit herself, thanking her father as she always did for teaching her how to be handy at DIY.

She was just getting to grips with lining up the new showerhead cradle when her doorbell sounded. It surprised her for only a second, knowing exactly who her visitor was likely to be before she’d even emerged from the bathroom.

“Hey,” EZ spoke upon her opening the front door. “I was just passing, so thought I’d see if you were home.” It was true, too, an uncalculated move. He’d genuinely missed her. He then smirked, reaching for her slowly, crumbling a few flecks of green paint under his thumbnail. “You have paint in your hair.”

“Ahh, to be expected,” she snorted softly, swinging the door open for him, EZ kicking his boots off and kissing her on his way in. “I’m mid-decoration project.”

“I see that,” he nodded, looking around at where the hallway had been covered in strategically placed masking tape. He then turned to her, gently stroking her cheek. “Is this just clever makeup, or...”

She leaned into his touch a little, her eyes sad. God, he hated that, but the darkness in him, it felt triumph. It could smack her down and still, she adored him. “Just makeup. At least the redness in my eye has almost gone, though. I cancelled work, told both that I’d sprained my ankle. Hence the decorating. I needed something to keep me busy while I was hiding.”

He neared her, leaning to her diminutive height, resting his forehead to hers. Since he saw her in skyscraper heels so much, he often forgot just how little she was barefoot, only 5’5. “Again, I’m sorry. And sorry isn’t enough, I know, but I’ll prove to you that I’m worthy of you, because I swear, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

Camille didn’t really know what to say, because it wasn’t a matter of what he said. It was the actions he undertook in order to repair the damage that he’d done not just to her, but to them. He sensed it, though. “You’ll need to see it, won’t you?”

She looked down, then back up at him, resting her hands to his chest. “Yes. I will.”

He nodded, removing his kutte, then his tight, long sleeved black t shirt. “Alright, well then I’ll start small. What colour is the hallway changing to?” He crouched by the paint cans to the side of the hallway table, gesturing.

“The walls hazelnut latte, and the ceiling silky ecru.” Taking the former, he picked up the screwdriver she’d been using to open the lids, unwrapping a fresh paint tray and pouring it in. “I’ll go and fetch the dust sheets.” Two hours later, and she had fully painted hallway walls and ceiling, and a Chinese takeaway on the way over, with a boyfriend who had ordered it washing off paint flecks in the shower while she tidied the hallway, looking around, glad she’d paid the extra for quick dry, one coat paint. It looked fantastic.

The little things continued while they ate, EZ showing her a couple of web pages he’d saved on his phone of therapists he’d found, wanting her opinion.

“I guess there’s no harm in going to see the three you’ve shortlisted, and then visiting them for a session, seeing who you feel most comfortable with. Accolades only count for so much, don’t they? It’s all about who you vibe with,” she spoke, crunching on a spring roll as she handed his phone back to him.

Returning it to his pocket, he made a face of agreement. “I guess you’re right there. Whatever it takes for me to prove to you that I’m worth trusting and that what I did to you shall be a mistake I never intend on repeating.” In confirmation of this, EZ booked in to see the first of the three therapists that Saturday morning, Camille going with him, waiting for him while he went in for his introductory session. Sadly, an hour later and a very unhappy looking man exited the room, Camille reaching for him.

“We’ll talk outside.” She nodded, taking his hand as they left the cleanly decorated, bright white and very sterile looking building. “I didn’t like him at all. He kept on asking me why I felt I acted out like this, despite me telling him that the entire reason I was seeking therapy in the first place was because I didn’t know.”

She rubbed his arms fondly, kissing the centre of his chest. “Well, you took the first big step in going to see him in the first place. Let’s hope you feel better about one of the next two on the list. I’m proud of you, you know. I see that you mean it, that you want to overcome your issues.”

Of course, he did. Mainly so he could be the one in control of it all again. However, the smaller voice within him, the one that saw just how lucky he was to have someone as kind and devoted to him as Camille was, it screamed at him to get better for the sake of pushing that darkness aside, once and for all.

The voice, sadly, wasn’t quite loud enough, though. One thing that was loud enough on that afternoon, though, was the volume of one of the people they were heading to visit. Marge Smith was, as usual, on form in the cleaning department, amplified further by the impending arrival of guests.

“Cookies, John?” she cried in exclamation, gesticulating wildly with her hands before going to fetch her small, handheld vacuum. “They’ll be here in ten minutes and you’re making crumbs?”

“Wifey, you are not vacuuming me!” he huffed, shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth, his cheeks bulging, Marge hoovering away all the remnants from his t shirt and the surrounding couch cushions. “I should just go eat all snacks over the damned sink.”

She widened her eyes, leaning in close. “Now, there’s an idea.” Her face broke out into a smile when he poked his tongue out at her, kissing him. “Love you.” In their thirty years of marriage, they’d never lost their playfulness with one another, although they drove each other crazy at times.

“Love you too, Margie. You and your madness.” He got up then and made chase after his squealing wife, slapping her butt repeatedly, Marge turning and fending him off, brandishing the handheld vacuum.

“Don’t make me use it!” He gave her a suggestive eyebrow raise, making to undo his pants. “Stop it! Oh god, you’re terrible!”

He cracked up, helping himself to a can of soda from the fridge. “It’s that devilment in me that keeps you coming back for more of the ole’ Smith magic!” She was in absolute fits, putting the vacuum back onto its wall mount, shaking her head at him. He was the funniest man she’d ever met, and he was all hers. She still loved him just as much as she had the say she’d married him back in 1993, the tough little New Jersey girl with the gigantic hair, marrying the gentle, long haired skateboarding guy she’d fallen head over heels for two years previously.

Just then, the doorbell rang. “No putting that can down and making rings, use a coaster!” she told him on her way past, John sliding one across the kitchen island to place his can onto, smiling when he heard his daughter’s giggle sound through the house. He’d do anything for that giggle. When she’d been a baby, he’d strap her into a papoose and skate down to the local store, his little one giggling for the entire journey. It was something he shared after all introductions had been made, while they sat down outside to eat.

“So, do you still state now?” EZ asked, John nodding vigorously.

“Absolutely, man. For as long as my knees will let me hit the half pipes and bowls, I’m out there. Even if it’s just testing out new boards or wheels and whatnot, I prefer my board to a car any day. Heck, I might be pushing sixty, but it’s who I am, it’s what I do, in my blood,” he shared, smiling widely.

“Dad owns Right On, Man,” Camille revealed proudly, referencing the huge skate and surf shop on the outskirts of Santo Padre.

EZ raised his eyebrows, remembering visiting it with some friends in his teenage years. “Yeah? That place is legendary with the boardie guys. Hey, is the one up in Santa Monica yours, too?”

John nodded, chewing through his mouthful of cheeseburger, his speciality on the barbecue. “Sure is, my brother runs that one, but I own both. Have you ever visited, you ever been into boarding?”

“Nah, I tried but I was useless,” EZ revealed. “My balance is shocking; I can just about keep my bike upright. Just ask your daughter, I nearly stacked it from a set of ladders the other night while I was painting her hallway ceiling.” He gave her a little shove, Camille laughing through her nose as she chewed her food, Marge noticing it right away. While she’d smiled, her body had suddenly stiffened at the sudden contact, almost like she was on her guard. Odd.

It was something she kept her eye on for the rest of the afternoon, shrewd as she was, while John seemingly didn’t notice anything amiss at all, having a great time getting to know their daughter’s boyfriend. Marge couldn’t help but see it more and more, though, tiny little tells that anyone else would have missed, but that couldn’t be hidden from her. Camille was acting a little cautiously with him, the fond easiness she’d witnessed between them the first time she’d met EZ no longer existing. Well, not for Camille. EZ still exuded warmth and charm in shades.

“Did you notice something off with Camie earlier?” she asked her husband, hours after she and EZ had left.

Taking the plate he handed him from the dishwasher, John stacked it atop the rest. “Hmm, nope! She seemed happy, tired but happy. She’s always quiet when she’s tired, and she did tell us she’s just finished redecorating her house, so I figured it was just that.” He took another plate, his smile suddenly growing. “Hey, EZ’s a great kid, isn’t he? Really warm and friendly, I like him. I hope he sticks around.”

Marge wasn’t sure whether she could wholly agree with her husband’s sentiments there. In fact, she wasn’t sure about EZ Reyes at all.

#ez reyes #ez reyes fanfiction #ez reyes smut #ez reyes fanfic #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes x ofc #ez reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc smut #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

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makethiscanon · 1 year

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3, 5, 9, 16, 28, and 29 for the wrapped writer's edition

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

It’s got to be Mistletoe (A Christmas Bakugou x Reader One Shot Collection). Forever and always. I wrote all three short stories in three weeks, right in the middle of busy period at work.

Idk I guess I’m just really proud of how I wrote Bakugou? I got a really lovely comment that said something like “soft bakugou IN CHARACTER?” and that was just so lovely because I spent time trying to devise how to make a realistic love story with that grump.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Hm. This year, probably Loveless (Genesis x Reader). It’s a fic I wrote back in 2009. The very beginning of my writing journey. But it got a bit of a resurgence on AO3 this year. I guess because of the FFVII: Crisis Core Reunion announcement/release? Either way, I thought that fic was buried, but it was really nice to get some comments on this year. Positive ones, to boot!

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

I mean, it’s always gonna be Ojiro/Reader. But I’ve actually really enjoyed writing a Baji Keisuke/Reader fic (unreleased) this year because it’s been super fun to get to know his character. He’s equal parts arsehat, softie, feral and idiot. So, jumbling all those qualities together has made him a joy to write for.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Without a doubt, ‘Fluff’ tops the tags, followed by ‘Hurt/Comfort’, and then either ‘No/Mild Angst’. I like to spread the warm fuzzies.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

Published would have to be A Helping Hand (Ojiro x Reader). It’s full of all the tropes I love. First Meetings, Rescue, Slice of Life Fluff. And it’s an easy introductory fic for those who haven’t read any Ojiro pieces before.

Unpublished, I’ve got to say there is a really fun rewrite I’m working on. A piece I originally wrote in 2009. It was originally a Bleach x Reader fic based at a waterpark but I said hey-ho and threw caution to the wind, and now it’s a chaotic, non-sensical crossover x reader that will never see the light of day, but caters to my every taste, and is the only reason I’m still writing every day. Hehe.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

So this is a snippet (not really a passage, I know) from a Krel x Reader fic I’m writing, but it’s only the canon cast here. It’s meant to be a comedic scene, and I think they’re pretty in character, mannerisms and all. So my big head is saying this one:

‘At the base of the mountain, once everyone had their skiing equipment, they huddled together with a map to decide which course to try.

“Ooo, let’s do this one.” Aja said, pointing at a course that started at the top of the mountain, marked by two black diamonds. Steve wrestled the map away from her, pitching her a loving but ‘are you nuts’ expression.

“You can’t start on a double-black diamond piste.”

“Why not?” She countered with a scowl. Then she smiled. “Aw. Are you worried?”

“A-doy. Double-blacks are expert level. Aja, people die on double-blacks. How about we start on a green course?”

“Imminent death?” Varvatos chortled with glee. “Glorious! Only the most dangerous courses are worthy of Varvatos’s footfall. If today is to be our day, may we crash and burn in snow-blazon glory!”

Passers-by picked up their speed, hoping to get away from the seemingly senile old geezer.

#ask game #sarah rambles #krel tarron x reader #ojiro x reader #baji keisuke x reader #genesis x reader #3below #krel #aja #steve palchuk #varvatos #vex #krel x reader

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thedastrash · 1 year

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Writer Tag Game

I was tagged by @morganlefaye79, thank you! <3

Do you write in order?

Yes, usually... I am bad at sitting down to write an outline so I mostly just throw myself into the thick of it. I do tend to skip over things I'm stuck on and type in all caps something like

SOMETHING GOES HERE or FIGHT SCENE or THEY ARGUE

then come back to fill it in later.

Occasionally I sit down and think "I'm going to write the best part first" and sometimes I find out... I don't need to write the rest lol

Do you start with something in particular?

I'm trying to work on variety but oooo do I love to just start on a piece of dialogue and throw someone right into the scene.

How fully formed does your writing come out on the first try?

My first draft is generally decent because I write slow, but it always needs some fluffing out and extra description thrown in. Usually I enjoy editing! Lately however, I find this process a bit agonizing because I am second guessing myself. It's a bad brain season.

How many drafts do you go through?

At least three? One to write it, one to do the big edit, and one to do the fiddly edit. That's my bare minimum and probably all that short pieces get. Big pieces end up going through a lot more middle drafts, but I do all my editing in one document instead of saving previous drafts separately like I should.

I tend to edit from the start, get all the way to something in the middle and go "ah fuck I should add something earlier about this," and have to go back to the start. I should probably start asking someone to beta my fics regularly. I like constructive criticism but... I find asking someone very difficult.

Tell me about your process?

Hah uh well, I start with an idea for a scene... then decide if that scene can just happen or if it needs some lead up and catharsis. A lot of my writing over the last year has been short erotica and that mostly boils down to one fun scene. Have an idea? Write it.

A few ideas have caught me and urged me to do something longer... but I still tend to just sit down and start writing. I will do sprints when I can to keep myself going. Mostly I just agonize over it, wish I was writing faster, ignore it for a while, then come back to it and reread it so I can agonize over it some more. It's very jumbled.

#I missed WIPwednesday yesterday so this counts right?#writer tag game #tag game #writing #behind the scenes

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ficklecat · 7 months

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OC Intro: Phineas Morgan

(dialogue responses to the OC interview prompt)

1. Please state your full name and occupation.

“My name is Phineas Morgan, but you can call me Finn. I’m a teaching assistant for Dr. Nichols, and I’m pursuing my master’s in classic and romantic literature.”

2. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

“Well…I like to read, obviously. I’m probably in the middle of about six different books right now, not including the ones for my studies, so obviously I’m great at commitment. But to my credit, I’ve got four dogs, and I think at least three of them love me. Um…I’m an orphan, which I guess makes me mysterious to some people. Oh and of course the obvious thing - I’ve got albinism. Just in case you were concerned, I do always look like this.”

3. How would you describe your childhood?

“In a word? Chaotic. Of what I can talk about comfortably, most is still sort of jumbled for me. I entered the foster system when I was 9, and I was pretty fortunate for a while before things got bad. I was displaced three times, which is less than the usual by a long shot. But most of my memories are either jumbled and confusing or just outright unpleasant to recall. Nothing was stable. It was…difficult. Chaotic.”

4. When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?

“An attorney, like my dad.”

5. Do you have any role models? Tell us a little bit about them.

“My partner Emmanuel’s father is probably one of the best people I know. He’s incredible. He looked out for me when I was a kid even though he didn’t have to. He still does. He’s hilarious and sweet, always trying to help people even when they don’t deserve it. And he can grow anything, anywhere. He texted me a picture the other day of like twenty cucumbers on his kitchen table with a bunch of emojis and the words ‘LOS PEPINOS’ in all caps.” (laughs) “He’s a gem. I love that man.”

6. Are you introverted or extroverted? Why?

“I guess you could say I’m more introverted but I can achieve extraversion pretty well when I need to, like when I’m teaching. As for why…growing up in foster and group homes it’s kind of dangerous to stand out. You just keep to yourself, you don’t know who’s safe. So I guess that’s a reason. But I really think it’s just because my nose is stuck in a book half the time. I usually prefer to listen over speaking in general, too. Easier to learn that way.”

7. How would you describe yourself in three words?

“Academic. Romantic. Cautious.”

8. What do you like to do for fun?

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I like to read.” (laughs) “But I enjoy watching movies too, and spending time with my partners. I like taking my dogs to the park or on hikes, as well, weather permitting.”

9. What's your greatest achievement? Why do you consider this your greatest achievement?

This was answered in an ask, check the tag to find it!

10. What's your biggest goal? How do you hope to achieve this?

“Big goals are hard for me. Right now the biggest goal I have is to graduate. Which I’m on track to do so…that’s good.”

11. What does your dream room/house look like? Would you mind showing some inspiration pictures?

“Ah, I don’t really have an exact layout idea. But I would love a cozy home with a little library and a yard for the dogs. And definitely a king bed. A nice rustic kitchen for Vi and E to cook in. But nothing flashy or massive. Just enough space to spread out a little. To be comfortable in a place to call my own.”

12. How would you describe your style?

“Practical for sure. Academic. I like to be comfortable but presentable. Being able to pick my own clothes was kind of a big deal for me and I went a little crazy at first before I found my style . I’m just glad I figured it out before long. You should have seen me when I was 18…far too much argyle for one man…”

13. What's your favorite song?

“Currently anything from Unreal Unearth. But Bowie’s Life On Mars? is always a favourite of mine.”

14. Where are you happiest?

“When I’m with my partners and dogs. When we cuddle up on the couch at night and I’ve got limbs and paws digging into me…it sounds uncomfortable but I’ve never been happier than when I’m sweaty and crampy and squished into a couch corner like that. It’s my favourite place to be.”

15. Who is the most important person in your life? Why?

“I have two people. Emmanuel and Violet. I love them with every part of my soul. I can’t imagine what life was like without them. I don’t want it.”

16. Do you believe in soulmates? Why or why not?

“Yes. Because I found them.”

17. Have you ever been in love?

“Many times. All the time. I’m in love with my partners. But I’m in love with Gatsby too, you know? I’m in love with Jane Eyre and Sir Gawain. I fell in love with Violet like I fell in love with Zelda Fitzgerald. I fell for Emmanuel like I fell for Alexandre Dumas. Every time I’m with them I’m in love all over again, every time I read beautiful prose I’m falling in it. It’s hard sometimes to be falling that often, but it gives the grey things in my life some colour.”

18. Have you ever been kissed?

“And then some.”

19. Describe an average day in your life.

“Wake up, take out the dogs and feed them breakfast, black tea, then shower and prep for my lectures. Do that, then office hours, lunch, classes, and then it’s pretty much dependent on what E and Vi want to do. We try to eat dinner together every night at the least, or we’ll do homework or study nights in the library rooms during busy weeks.”

20. Describe your nighttime routine.

“After dinner with them I’ll come home and take care of the dogs again. If E and Vi come over we’ll usually talk or play a game or watch something until we turn in. And if none of us get handsy I’ll usually be the last to fall asleep. But if I’m alone, I’ll read or do some more prep work if I need to, or just watch TV until I’m ready for bed. I drink a nightly cocktail of medicinal tea with CBD and some other stuff in it to help me sleep, so I’ll do that about thirty minutes before bed. Then I’ll take the dogs out and do my skincare and it’s lights out.”

21. (Make up a question) Tell us a “low-stakes” unpopular opinion you have.

“Admittedly most of my unpopular opinions are about literature, but I’ll avoid boring you and save those for my lectures. Generally speaking I feel like most of my opinions are unpopular so I have plenty, but I’ll just say for now that I think Crocs are actually fucking awesome. They’re comfortable and adorable and I have been known to wear them in public despite protest from Violet. I’d wear them all the time if I could. I once almost wore them to lecture with a button down and trousers. I don’t even care. Let my feet be comfy. And evidently my most unpopular opinion has to do with oat milk but if I talk about it a certain person I know will actually become genuinely upset with me so I’ll refrain.”

(Manny yelling from the other room) “Oye canche, don’t start with the milk thing again!”

(Finn laughs)

#Phineas #OCs #axel’s brainpals #oc ask game #oc prompt

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where-dreamers-go · 1 year

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I posted 667 times in 2022

424 posts created (64%)

243 posts reblogged (36%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@girl-next-door-writes

@heckyeahnationaltreasure

@shenanigans-and-imagines

@princessxkenobi

@the-and-sign-anon

I tagged 559 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#where dreamers go - 354 posts

#star wars - 88 posts

#fandom goodness - 85 posts

#erica answers - 56 posts

#imagines - 45 posts

#eragon - 34 posts

#riley poole - 32 posts

#youtube - 30 posts

#national treasure - 28 posts

#eragon reaction - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#i will never forgive them if they kill off the original three. then i can't rewatch it. and it doesn't go with the rules of the islands

My Top Posts in 2022:

Sam and Dean exchanged anxious looks.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" Gabriel asked.

"We left (Y/N) at the antique shop to keep an eye on the employee." Sam repeated as his shoulders dropped.

"With the vampire." Dean groaned. "Damnit."

Taking in a deep breath as the tension rose in the room, Gabriel stepped forward. "Out of all the...," he exhaled through his nose and continued, "You two are hunters. What were you thinking?" He held up a finger to hush them. "I'm going. And I hope you didn't want the employee alive."

"Hey," Dean gestured strongly with a hand. "How were we suppose to know they had a freakin' nest nearby?"

"Sammy here said all the windows are blocked out...genius." Said Gabriel before he took off to help you.

112 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

Sighing, you continued staring at the green undergrowth. You had found a spot private enough for thinking without interruption. The Resistance's base was busy, your home away from home.

Events were picking up again and your heart ached with what you had left unsaid. Words and answers to what questions you had been dodging like blaster bolts. It had been too long.

"Hey you."

"Wah," you flinched.

"Sorry." Poe held up his hands. "I thought I'd come find you. You seem to be stuck in your head the past couple of days."

"Yeah." Your gaze traveled elsewhere.

"Hey now, don't go off without me." He said, regaining your attention. "Is there anything I can do? I know something's on your mind."

A weak smile pulled at your lips. Poe's kindness never surprised you.

"There's a lot...going on," you said quietly, "in my head, my heart, the galaxy..."

"We've made it this far," Poe offered you a smile. "And we'll still make it together."

"That's.... that's it though. I don't know what's going to happen. That's scary to think about, but... there's so much change and.... And I've realized that no matter what's happening, what has happened, and whatever it is I'm so afraid of.... It won't make me stop loving you."

Poe watched as your words were no longer whispers, but impassioned truths you had been hiding. All of your jumbled thoughts and feelings voiced to him.

See the full post

118 notes - Posted March 18, 2022

"Halloween Mission" Connor x Reader

(Imagine: Connor searching for you when your phone's battery dies.)

(A/N: This got out of hand and is basically an insert reader. Guess this is my first one with rk800!

Warnings: none. Unless you count a mild reference to Assassin's Creed.

Word Count: ?? I'm on my phone.)

~~~

Of all nights, it was Halloween.

People were trick or treating, going to parties, working late shifts, causing mischief, eating candy, and a list of over fifty activities.

Connor had thought of them all and more unsavory ones. He had hoped that this year would be calm in the city. A big hope, but his nonetheless.

Deviancy tended to do that. Emotions.

Along with deviancy came new experiences and friendships. You were both of those surprises for Connor.

A friendship that may have started oddly, however neither of you would trade a second of it. Connor valued you as a friend. He cared. He could talk to you about anything. He trusted you.

Halloween night he worried.

Already knowing you were joining other friends to an event, Connor didn't want to interrupt your fun. Yet, you sent him photos throughout the night nonetheless. That wasn't the problem.

The issue arose when his texts were left unread. A promise of another set of photos was left empty. Your voicemail being the only reply Connor could receive.

He waited fifteen minutes. After that he checked to see your location via your phone. Nothing. No update.

Thirty minutes later, Connor was passing the third long line of guests as they waited to board an attraction.

In his life, he had not scanned so many faces in such a short amount of time.

Connor needed to find you. In a place that crowded, there was no telling what could have happened to you.

Hopefully nothing, Connor thought. This could be a sign of overreacting. He shouldered passed a group of people dressed as hooded assassins.

"Need help, man?" One of them asked.

"No, no, no." Another said with a grin and then said dramatically, "he's on a mission. He's got a contract."

The friend bumped the other and rolled their eyes.

Connor decided to amuse them. To add to their fun target than load them with his worry. Smirking, Connor backed away saying, "I always accomplish my mission."

Leaving the excited chatter behind him was one of his many steps. The event space was large. It was a challenge he didn't hesitate to take.

He eyed an enthusiastic crowd in front of a live band and hesitated.

They said they were thinking of skipping--

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice. Connor turned around.

"Connor!" You called out in surprise and relief.

The android ran up to you without delay. "Are you alright? You didn't answer your phone and your location was offline--"

See the full post

242 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

In regards to the upcoming game Disney Dreamlight Valley, I hope future characters come from more "bronze age animation" movies.

For example:

Treasure Planet

The Emperor's New Groove

Brother Bear

Also, oh my goodness we get Merlin and hopefully the educated owl, Archimedes.

I'm also hoping for anything Encanto and Aladdin.

But OMG what if they add Oliver And Company??? Or 101 Dalmatians?!?

I want to design my avatar's house with dalmatian spots.

264 notes - Posted August 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“Just Ask” Bernard the elf x elf!Reader

(A/N: Requested by Anon, for anything Bernard. I’m counting us all lucky that I didn’t need to ask for any prompts or anything this time. Just jumped right into writing. Am I okay? Gosh. So…this was suppose to be an Imagine: Santa trying to help Bernard find out if you like him. Warnings: None. Word Count: 445 words)

The North Pole. A place known for its workshop, elves, reindeer, and magic. Christmas spirit.

People’s first thoughts of the North Pole tended not to be an image of an elf starting to panic at the idea of asking another elf out on a date.

“You’ve waited this long, Bernard.” Santa reasoned. “Just find the right moment…and…ask.”

Bernard sighed.

“You haven’t exactly been that subtle.”

“What?”

“They show up,” Santa gestured with his hand, “and snap. Heart eyes.”

“I—no.” Bernard stood firm. “I don’t know for certain ow they feel about me and the last thing I want is to ruin our friendship by crossing a line.”

Santa groaned, looking to the ceiling. “It’s not a line.”

Putting his hands on his hips was a telltale sign that Bernard was more than a little worked up. Why wouldn’t he be? They were discussing a decision that would change his life. He could not take it lightly.

“Oh.” Santa grinned with an idea. “How about you flirt with another elf in front of them? See if they get jealous. Then you’ll know.”

“Wha—,” Bernard gasped, hands going up to his face for a second. “Nope.” He shook his head.

“Then the next time you see them….you ask them out?”

“Okay! Alright.” Bernard took a breath.

Santa smiled, relieved. “Well that’s good…” His eyes glanced over the elf’s shoulder. The smile spread into a grin.

“Excuse me, Santa.”

Your voice made Bernard’s heart leap. For more than one reason. He wasn’t sure he could even turn around.

“Yes?”

“May I speak with Bernard for a moment? I promise it won’t take long.”

The splitting grin on Santa’s face and your close presence made Bernard want to stuff himself into his satchel.

“Of course.” He looked to his head elf. “Bernard, I’ll be in the Naughty and Nice Center.”

Both you and Bernard watched momentarily as Santa left you two alone.

Taking a quiet breath in, Bernard composed himself. He was the head elf after all.

Bernard turned around and faced you.

Upon seeing his face, you smiled.

His knees felt like jelly.

“Hello Bernard.”

“Hi.”

See the full post

272 notes - Posted November 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post #Where Dreamers Go

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soshbeshtkatnennanteeri · 1 year

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Lexember 2022 Day 4 - Trade goods, axe, metal, bead, and more

Today's prompt was:

Help the Elder by clearing up the fallen tree in their garden.

The most related lexicon I created for this today was either:

Abād: at /ˈaʈ/ (n.) - axe. Borrowed from Søkdnɘ̄'ød ats meaning the same.

OR:

Abād: ʘwat wī tu yū kan ǁogip? /ˈʘwaʈ ˈwiː ˈʈɯ ˈjɯː ˈkaɳ ǁɤ.ˈgip/ (idiom) - How can I help? in a deferential tone. Lit. What can I give you? Borrowed from Søkdnɘ̄'ød ʘǁwat wī tu llū kan ǁogif? meaning the same.

Søkdnɘ̄'ød: ʘǁwat wī tu llū kan ǁogif? /ˈʘǁwat ˈwiː ˈtu ˈʎuː ˈkan ˈǁogif/(idiom) - How can I help? in a deferential tone. Lit. What can I give you?

The additional prompt was:

Duality of patterning Create a word for a pattern or motif used in your speakers’ clothing. What sorts of fabrics or adornments do they use?

I only partially succeeded on this I created

Abād: ebēbīn /eb.eːb.ˈiːɳ/ (n.) - bead, pebble. Borrowed from Søkdnɘ̄'ød bø̄bīn meaning bead.

ebēbīnwes /eb.eːb.ˈiːɳ.weʂ/ (n.) - headdresss. Borrowed from Søkdnɘ̄'ød bø̄bīnfes meaning the same.

Søkdnɘ̄'ød: bø̄bīn /bøː.ˈbiːn/ (n.) - bead. From bīn bīn “moon moon”.

bø̄bīnfes /bøː.ˈbiːn.fesˡ/ (n.) - headdress. From bø̄bīn “bead” + fes “face".

But not any patterns. Read about Hutamān “Lital Son” Rewan-yūman’s adventures this Lexember to find out how Søkdnɘ̄'ød wear bø̄bīnfes.

Lital Son was given a break from both school and working in the field with Ongkal Dedalas, which as it wasn’t a holy day confused him. When his older siblings had begun to work they had worked everyday except the third day of the lutaldē when they went to school, the tenth day when everyone went to sotaltōt and the special holy days of the New Year and Mid Year. Ongkal Dedalas explained that there was no work in Sūka Kēbwūn’s fields that a little ladran like Lital Son could do with the winter storms being so rough.

Lital Son’s ānt had started working in one of the Søkdnɘ̄’ød’s houses and didn’t want to take him and his ongkal was preparing to take trapala to the Kat in the far north. He didn’t know when his ongkal would be able to go or be back but it was strange for him to be preparing to go so early, normally his ongkal would stay in Abāddīn for the first three ibīn but he had left before the first lutaldē.

Lital Son tagged along with his ongkal. His ongkal went to loud scary places on the outskirts of Abāddin. The loud Søkdnɘ̄’ød men laughed when Lital Son, startled when they dropped something big and his Ongkal told him not to cause trouble but Lital Son couldn’t see where he could be that the Søkdnɘ̄’ød men wouldn’t catch his wings.

No one seemed to notice when he backed out of the building but when Lital Son turned around he realised he had no idea how to get home from here. He couldn’t even see the ibigrak that was always his landmark. Frantically, Lital Son flapped up into the air just as great gust of wind came in from the sea and sent him tumbling through the air.

He landed in a jumble and was sure he’d broken at least one flight feather and he had even less idea where he was now.

He was in front of a run down looking Søkdnɘ̄’ød house. The roof looked like it had been replaced before their house’s and his ānt was always after his ongkal to trade for labour on the roof and it leaked in the children’s sleeping area - Lital Son was very aware of that because as the youngest his siblings made him sleep under the drip. An abādīd tree had fallen on the fence outside the front of the Søkdnɘ̄’ød house keeping the īwēkewin in. Probably with the same gust of wind that had landed Lital Son there.

The Søkdnɘ̄’ød was slow to come outside and when they did they just stood their with water in their eyes. The Søkdnɘ̄’ød was grey and uniformly round, the way old Søkdnɘ̄’ød got and Lital Son didn’t know Søkdnɘ̄’ød names well enough to know if Opyōzado Īkēhi was a woman or man’s name.

Opyōzado Īkēhi watched their īwēkewin escape out through the hole in the fence the tree had left with an air of complete loss and Lital Son felt the same but he knew his ānt would take a lobatūl to him if he stood around uselessly instead he practiced his Søkdnɘ̄’ød. “ʘwat wī tu yū kan gip?”

Opyōzado Īkēhi just looked at him for a long moment and Lital Son worried that he had said it wrong, then they said, “ʘǁwat wī tu llū kan ǁogif?” When Lital Son nodded Opyōzado Īkēhi pointed at the tree, “ʘats wī haf. ʘotrī llū ǁfel?”

Lital Son guessed fel was how Søkdnɘ̄’ød said wel or to cut, andthat an at was a knife like an ask. While he wouldn’t be as good at it as his bigger siblings or Ongkal Dedalas but he didn’t see anyone else offering to help Opyōzado Īkēhi.

Opyōzado Īkēhi’s at was stone like the one at home not a nīrak one like he’d seen Søkdnɘ̄’ød use but the abādīd tree was small and it was peaceful by Opyōzado Īkēhi’s home. Opyōzado Īkēhi helped like Søkdnɘ̄’ød didn’t normally help Abād who were working for them.

It had still been morning when Lital Son landed in Opyōzado Īkēhi’s garden but it was afternoon when they had broken the tree down into logs and stacked them just inside Opyōzado Īkēhi’s house to dry.

Lital Son offered to catch Opyōzado Īkēhi’s īwēkewin but was told that īwēkewin know where their home is and would return to their coop come sunset. Instead Opyōzado Īkēhi shared the abādīd that had been on the tree with Lital Son and invited him inside for a small meal as thanks.

Nothing about outside had changed Lital Son’s assessment that Opyōzado Īkēhi’s house was as rundown as his home and inside didn’t change that. The only things that were in good condition were the bowls of ebēbīn and the partially complete ebēbīnwes.

Opyōzado Īkēhi made ebēbīnwes and ebēbīn for trade. They used a rough stone and sharp thorn of stone to shape wood and wesālk in to ebēbīn and then used them to make ebēbīnwes. This one was for a new bride and had bright colourful stones that had been trade for in the north, but Opyōzado Īkēhi thought that the wedding was probably called off because the gods were not looking favourably on them.They explained that Søkdnɘ̄’ød and Fœ̄zmɘ̄’ød women wore ebēbīnwes to constrain their hair without seeming to. The ebēbīnwes let them show off how much they could waste because it took many lutaldē to make a fancy ebēbīnwes like the one Kloda, the ibigaman’s wife wore. Not that hers was new, it had been given to her by her mother-in-law when the previous ibigaman died.

#lexember #conlanging #worldbuilding

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pinerbureau · 2 years

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Cubemen on xbox one

#Cubemen on xbox one Ps4

Add to this the fact that eating an unbroken chain of 256 pac-dots gives your score a mega boost and Pac-Man 256 has you juggling a sizable to-do list as you rush through its corridors. There is a beautiful balance here between learning to avoid the various ghost types, completing missions and grabbing fruit multipliers to boost your score all while trying to outrun the 256 glitch. All of these power-ups are upgradeable through eight levels using credits which you obtain by completing special missions such as “kill ten ghosts with bombs” or “eat 15 cherries” and three can be allocated to your inventory at any one time, appearing as random drops scattered around the maze as you go. To aid in your march up the leaderboards Hipster Whale and 3 Sprocket has added a whole host of ghostbusting powerups to proceedings and amazingly none of them interfere with or break the classic gameplay.īy doing what a Pac-Man does and eating every pac-dot in sight you’ll gain access to hurricanes, stealth, trails of destructive fire, mini pac-men who devour every ghost in sight, a proximity bomb and ghost-blasting laser, to name a few of the tons on offer here. Blue ghosts traverse corridors in a repeated pattern, orange drop in a straight line, red acts like a homing missile while pink (or Pinky) waits for visual contact before striking at speed to put an end to your pellet munching.Īll of the classic gameplay is here and it isn’t long before you find yourself back in that Pac-Man trance, slowly transitioning from the panicked charge forward of a newbie to a much more considered, side to side means of traversal, scanning the horizon, planning your advance and making those signature last second escapes to, very temporary, victory. You’ll instantly recognise your enemies if you’ve played a Pac-Man game in the past and slowly but surely begin to relearn their various behaviours as those dormant Pac-Man skills begin to come back online. Taking its clever cue from the infamous level 256 glitch in the original Pac-Man game, which would see the right hand side of the player’s screen turn into a jumbled soup of letter and numbers, here that soup become a tsunami, slowly engulfing everything in its path, devouring all before it and pushing the player headlong through an endless maze filled with randomly generated ghosts, pickups and power-ups. However, what Crossy Road creators Hipster Whale and 3 Sprockets, of Cubemen fame, have created here is an entertaining and addictive mash-up of classic Pac-Man gameplay and endless runner which works really well and has kept me glued to my screen for far more hours than its miniscule price-tag suggested it could.

#Cubemen on xbox one Ps4

In April, the developers were given a nod from Sony to develop new titles for PlayStation 4 and PS Vita platforms, and is currently working on a new title for the platforms.I’m not a big endless runner fan, so, when asked to review a budget PS4 Pac-Man endless runner game I fully expected something that would pass ten fidgety minutes before being thrown on the scrapheap with the rest of its ilk, “go back to mobile gaming where you belong!” Pricing will be announced at a later date. We can't wait to see how creative they are, whether in tactical multiplayer online or in the new levels they build."Ĭurrently available on Steam and iOS, Cubemen 2 is slated for release from late 2013 to early 2014 in the U.S., Europe, Australia and New Zealand as a downloadable Wii U title. Cubemen 2 is an amazing game and a great fit for Nintendo players. "We've spent the last few months working with both Nintendo and 3 Sprockets, the game's developer, to make this a reality. "I'm really proud to be able to announce this," said Nic Watt, creative director at Nnooo. Be sure to watch the video below to see Cubemen 2 in action. Currently, there are 4,000 user-generated levels created on other platforms, which Wii U users will have access to, along with customisable Cubemen skins and global leaderboards. The title features a single-player mode and the multiplayer mode supports up to six players. Nnooo, the Australian developers behind the abstract puzzle game EscapeVektor, is releasing Cubemen 2 on Nintendo's Wii U, making it the first indie game to offer cross-platform multiplayer and user-generated content on the system.

#Cubemen on xbox one

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wandernwander · 2 years

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Whore for the Night

I stood naked at the door. Well, not really naked. My Lady Cece Wanted to share me with some of her friends this evening. She left the items she ordered me to wear on the table. Now I stand with them on, trying to get the nerve to reach for the handle and open the door.

My hand was shaking as I turned the knob. I slowly pulled back the door and saw my lady with three of her friends. All of their heads turned to see me as the hinges creaked. Lady Cece Put down her wine glass and slowly walked over to me. Her high heel boots clipped with each step on the stone floor. And as she stepped next to me she took my hand and whispered in my ear, “ you look delicious, my pet.” This made my heart flutter. She then took my hand, taking the lead to the leash from it.

With a light tug, she had me follow behind her. She stopped me in front of the three ladies. “ These are my friends, my precious pet. You will respect them And do anything they order as it comes from my lips. Now Kneel, so I can introduce you to them.” I bent my knee quickly as ordered. My knees wide apart, by backstreet with my head up and ice down.

“ What a wonderful pet you have here Cece,” Said a woman in a full body red leather outfit. Her long hair matched the red in the leather. Her knee-high riding boots made no sound as she stepped closer to me. Her hands went to my cheek, caressing it. “ but, can he be the naughty slut for all four of us that you say he is for you?“. Before my lady could answer this woman in red pulled her hand back and slapped my cheek. I was greatly surprised and the blow stung viciously. “ I guess we'll just have to wait and see,” she said as she walked back to the table and picked up her glass of wine.

“Now Harlot, give the poor pet a chance. It might surprise you.” Call her and went to the back of my head, her fingers running through my hair. “ Pet, that is Harlot but you will call her the Red Queen for the rest of the evening. Do you understand?”

Since one of the items that I was to wear was a gag that I had to bite down like a dog bone, it made it hard to answer her. I tried my best to say yes Lady Cece, but the words just came out a jumbled mess.

I can hear one of the other women chuckling loudly. “ Your pet seems very well-behaved,” she said. Sing out of the corner of my eye a tall beautiful woman. She took a sip from her glass and then continued “ well behaved does not mean he has stamina. Do you think it’s up for pleasing all four of us?”

“ That we will have to wait and see my darling Fay,” She responded as she grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. Her attention turned back on me she said,” That is Foxy Fay the Green Witch and you better please her or she may cast a nasty spell on you.”

She let go of my hair and I resumed my position. She stepped away to go take another sip of her drink. As her presence left, I felt the fourth member slide next to me. With my eyes down I could only see her black leather skirt and knee-high boots. She rested her hands on my shoulder then trust her right foot over her left balancing it on her toes. She slowly tapped a riding crop on her heel.

“My name is Katie but You will call me Mistress K. Nod if you understand.” My head nod back-and-forth to her command. “ that is a good slut. By the time we’re done with you you’re going to be a broken mess laying in your own sweat, tears and cum. Just think of what you have to look forward to.” Then she left as she walked around me, inspecting me.

“ I like the dog tail that you were making this slut wear, '' she said to Lady Cece. “ I can’t wait to see how big of a plug you had him put in. It does look very good in the black leather harness you had it wear. it will give me something to grab onto as I’m torturing it later. Very cute dog collar and what does the tag say,” she says leaning down to read it. “Good boy. That is very cute.”

She turned back to the ladies and said, “ should we start?“. I heard them clapping and the Red Queen yelled, “hell yes!!”

Mistress K took my hanging leash and pulled me forward. I started to rise to stand, but her riding crop came down hard on my back. “Pets don’t walk on two legs. They crawl on all fours.” Back to my hands and knees I crawled quickly behind her.

She led me to the large wooden frame at the end of the room. Once in the center of it she had me stand. I can feel the other ladies walking closely behind. Lady Cece heels clicking told me she was a couple of pieces away. The jingle of metal let me know she picked something up before she started back to us.

“ Here ladies,“ she said, holding out my cuffs. “ Each one of you take one and attach it to this slut. Grab the leads and then tighten it up so my pet can escape.” I felt the soft sensual hands attaching the cuffs to my wrists and ankles. The soft fur-like material was a pleasure against my skin.

Then each lady stepped away from my body and grabbed the other end of the rope and pulled. My arms flew up from my sides. Making them tight in a V shape. At the same time my legs were forced open. Just past the point of a comfortable standing position.

There was nowhere for me to go, but they were not finished. Kay walked up in front of me and knelt. Her hands gently port my ball sack away from my body. I can feel her rapping a satin rope around them. My semi hard cock started growing feverishly. She called me a naughty boy as it rose close to her face. Once she finished tying it she gave it a good tug on the other end. Satisfied, she tied it to the ring at the base of the structure. Another point of my body was secured.

The Red Queen then walked up behind me. Reaching around my waist she grabbed my hard cock.”What A fucking horny slut it is! Look how hard it’s cock got just by a little touch. I don’t know if the slut is going to be able to handle all of us,” she teased as she stroked me.

As I whimpered into my gag I could feel her freehand grasping at the base of the tail plug. She wiggled it just a little before she started pulling it out of my ass. It stretched my rim wide. “ Not a bad size,” She said, holding it up for the others to see.

Mistress K was by our side and she took the plug from the Red Queen's hand. “ Let's see how dirty slut really is.“. her free hands reached behind my head and unclasped my gag. Unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. Then her hands went to the back of my neck. “Open,” She commanded, staring me dead in the eyes. She pushed the gag into my mouth. With a pulling in and out motion she’s fucked it. “You are a dirty fucking slut. Keep it in your mouth, slut.”

As Mistress K was occupying my thoughts with her face fucker with a dildo, I felt a familiar cold metal pushing past my anus. I knew at once as a cylinder shape came to rest what it was. It’s a cool metal rod of anal hook sent shivers down my spine. I can feel her hands wrapping the rope through the back of my collar down to the hook.

I was now standing wide open with the tail anal plug stuff in my mouth and the hook tied tight arching my back. The two women stepped away and that’s what I felt the first impact. It was a flogger hard to cross my chest. Again, again, and again it fell. My eyes started looking around to see who is Striking me. That was cut short as hands placed a blindfold over my eyes. Lady Cece whisper in my ear, “ don’t disappoint my precious pets”.

Then my body was huge high for precious ladies. I felt the sting of all different types of impact items. A cane across my thigh. A paddle on my bare ass cheek. A belt along my calves. The sharp sting of a whip across my back. And what I would swear was a fork not so gently tapping on my hard cock. The tail butt plug fell out of my mouth pretty quickly. I heard them enjoying themselves at my whimpers, pleading and begging. Until one had enough and gagged me with a ball gag.

Finally they had finished with their fun and lowered me to the floor. My body was a bruised mess. Completely exhausted. One of them grabbed the leash and pulled me to another part of the home. They helped me sit on the padding table and gave me a drink of water.

“Look at all of those lovely marks,“ one of them said.

“It is a good pain slut. That was a lot of punishment we just dished out.”

“How do you think this slut will do with the pleasure park now?”

“ Who knows,“ one answered. “I Think we should find out.”

“Lay down Pet,” Lady Cece ordered as she pushed my chest down. I felt hands softly take my cock in them. Then the teasing started. Being blindfolded I couldn’t tell who was doing one, at this point it didn’t matter. The stroking of my cock. Fondling and light slapping of my swollen balls. Even pushing my legs back so they can finger fuck my asshole. My body was shaking with pleasure. The whole time I was being called a dirty slut, a fucking whore, a worthless piece of shit. Wondering if my cock did all the thinking for me. At moments the ladies did take pity on me. Calling me a good boy. Holding my hand when they saw me struggling.

I did just get to lay down and enjoy all of this. One after another one would climb on my face and lickwith them to orgasm. My tongue pushing into their love boxes and licking. Their juices flowing around my face. Not just their pussies were licked, I was forced to lick their ass too. When they finally finished my chore and tongue ached.

They weren’t finished With the humiliation just yet. Each of my ankles were grabbed and pulled towards my head. At this point my body was ready to explode. That is when I felt the tip of a strap on slide into my open back door. After a few slow strokes whoever was fucking my ass really gave it to me. They all started laughing and cackling at me. Calling me an anal whore. wanting to know if I could take a bigger strap on. Between the pleasure of my ass being pounded and Verbal abuse I cannot take anymore.

I let out a A scream of pleasure and shot my loan. Being teased by four sexy women for hours, one would produce a lot. The way I was positioned I found out just how much. As my cock squirted, I seed shut down across my chest and face. So much cum. This made them laugh even more. Now I was called a cum slut. I was told to lick my lips.

The strap on was pulled out and my legs were allowed to swap back on the table. I heard women starting to walk away joking and laughing. Saying I was a good slut. That they were pressed my pain Threshold and stamina. Lady Cece lingered for a moment and told me to rest that she would be back shortly to check on me. I heard her footsteps cross the road and then the door closed. I took the blindfold off at shut my eyes. Sleep found me very quickly.

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efingart · 2 years

Text

Just What I Needed - Chapter 1

ao3

Deleted Scenes: #1

Bell reflects on the few memories she has.

Author's note:

2/6/24 Reviewed, updated, and edited this chapter

This started as a comic. I wanted to see Bell and the Safehouse Crew interacting outside of the missions. Then it grew into a larger story and became too big of an investment as a comic. But the story is stuck in my head now and I have to let it out. So I'm just going to write it.

This first Chapter is a retread of the comic, but there is new stuff extra characterizations etc. Next chapter will be mostly new.

I know some of you were on my taglist for the comic, but since I've changed it to a fic just lmk if you'd like to be tagged still. No hard feelings if not. (I do plan on having illustrations in the future chapters as well)

Chapter 1

March 1, 1981

The paper in her hands, once filled with numbers and cryptic symbols, was quickly becoming a watery swirl of red and blue. Bell blinked a few times to clear and refocus her eyes. She looked down again and the page had returned to normal. How long had she been staring at this thing? Just a moment ago she had risen from the worktable to pin it back up on the evidence board and move on to something else. But as she stood she felt compelled to look at it again, feeling the spark of inspiration. But as soon as she tried to zero in on the thought and make sense of the jumble of letters and numbers, when the solution nearly seemed to lift off the paper, it would almost immediately slip from her mind. And this time was no different. So she stared at the paper in vain again, combing the depths of her mind for that lost something. And her head was pounding, which was not doing her any good. It was like her own brain was fighting against her solving this puzzle. She rubbed at her temples and considered taking out her ponytail. Deluding herself into thinking that maybe that was the cause of the pain and not the fact that she worked almost around the clock.

Of course this would happen when she was needed most.

Just behind her, Sims dropped a cardboard box onto the work table.

“Any luck with that disk decryption?” Sims asked. She looked over her shoulder at him. He had begun sorting through the box which looked to be filled with electronic junk. A cigarette dangled from his lips. She wondered if he cared about ash getting into the box.

“No,” Bell admitted, “I feel like I’m missing something.” Frustrated with herself she rubbed her forehead again and looked up at the evidence board hoping that maybe this time it would reveal it’s secrets. Instead a bright light flashed across her face. The sunlight beaming through the skylight above hit a metal object pinned to the board. She plucked the offending object off it’s peg and turned it over in her hand. It looked like a keyring with a deranged apron-clad figurine attached.

“What is that?” Bell muttered to herself, perplexed as to why anyone would want to carry around such a manic looking thing. Though it did seem strangely familiar to her.

“Find something?” Sims asked as he walked around the table to join her at the evidence board.

“Uh-” Bell paused. She hadn’t intended to pose the question to him and she felt a little silly showing him the keychain since it wasn’t related to her work, but she was still curious about it.

“No, but what is this?” Sims took a drag and looked it over.

“Looks like a keychain, Bell.” Bell looked at him pointedly and sighed, “I know-”

“I’m kidding you. Woods picked that up on your last mission.” He chuckled, “And he says Adler’s sentimental.” Bell looked back at the odd figure in her hand and scrunched up her nose.

“Why would he be feeling sentimental about this weird child?”

“You know, we all find ways to deal with the things we’ve seen- the things we’ve done,” Sims said, “And Woods has definitely been through it.” Then he shrugged before adding, “You should ask him- about the keychain, I mean.”

“Yeah.”

Bell glanced down at the keychain again. She thought about putting it back on the evidence board, but instead she closed her hand around it. Sims studied her face. She must have looked as exhausted as she felt because he then said, “Why don’t you take a break? Get some coffee and try tackling it again in a few.”

“Yeah, but-” Bell protested and looked over her shoulder at Adler. He was in his office. His expression very grave. Sims followed her gaze.

“Even he doesn’t work 24/7. Shocking, I know.”

Sims nudged her side encouragingly before going back to his work. Bell pinned the paper on the evidence board, but held on to the keychain.

Why? Because it was Woods’?

She shook the thought from her head as she went to the kitchenette. The coffee pot was empty, as it often was. Just about everyone on the team drank coffee, or tea, round the clock. They had terrorists to hunt, and sleep could wait.

Bell began brewing a fresh pot and leaned against the counter to wait, surveying the Safehouse.

Her eyes landed on Park who sat at a desk nearby listening to recordings- of what Bell was unsure. One hand pressed a headphone speaker to her ear. In her other hand she held a cigarette and a pen, this was poised over an open folder. Occasionally her hand would drop down to jot a note or two in the folder as she listened. Sometimes she would bring her hand to her face to take a drag from the cigarette.

That’s how it was here. A constant chain of cigarettes and cups of caffeine. Not the healthiest lifestyle, but did any of them expect to live long?

Sims was still sorting and cataloging boxes. She could see now that they looked like old radio parts. He had removed his blue MACV-SOG windbreaker and tossed it over a chair. The beaded bracelets on his wrists clacked together as he moved around. And he was humming to himself, though she couldn’t make out the tune.

She couldn’t see Woods, Mason, or Lazar from where she stood, but she could hear them talking in low voices. Or at least as low as any of them talked in casual conversation. Shooting the shit as Woods and Mason were getting ready for their next mission. They were headed straight into Russia. Mount Yamantau. But to hear them talk it was as if it was nothing to them. She knew deep down that they took the job seriously and they maybe the both learned some time ago that a little levity went a long way in this line of work. It would be foolish to mistake their jovial attitudes for a lack of care or professionalism.

Directly across the room from her she could that Adler was still in his office. The door was closed, but the shades were up. He was on the phone, chain-smoking, pacing and generally looking pissed off. His desperation to catch the man who eluded him for so many years was coming to a head.

The coffee pot gurgled loudly through it’s process drawing Bell’s attention to it. Her friend was working his ass off and here she was, taking a break. Letting him down because she couldn’t cut it. She couldn’t figure out some critical puzzle piece. In fact, everyone in this room was waiting on her. The fate of the mission was on her shoulders, and what was she doing? Getting coffee?

She recalled the way Adler had been in Vietnam. Even when things had gotten rough there he was always encouraging. Making the best of things. This was different. He was different.

The faster they caught Perseus, the better it would be.

She’d have her friend again.

Bell shoved her hands in her pockets and debated on whether just to go back to work. She looked down at her boots and kicked the cement floor. Feeling, somewhat unreasonably, disgusted with herself. She heard someone walked up to the coffee pot. The familiar deep gravely voice dragged her from her thoughts.

“Hey, coffee,” Woods said, “Thanks, Bell.”

He reached into the cabinet just next to her and grabbed three mismatched mugs, turning them over and lining them up next to the pot. Woods poured the fresh coffee into the mugs and handed her one.

“You take it black, right?” He asked.

“Yeah,” She said, a little surprised, “Thanks.”

No one really thanked anyone for doing something as mundane as making coffee around here. It was so automatic. She looked at the other two mugs, one for Woods of course, and the other probably for Mason. It was then that she remembered the keychain.

“Hey, Woods?”

She looped the keychain around her middle finger and let it drop so the little figure dangled in the air just below her hand before asking, “What is this?”

“It’s a keych-”

“I know it’s a keychain," Bell said, "But what is it supposed to be? This weird little man-”

“Bubby.”

He narrowed his eyes at her as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Do you seriously not know who Bubby is?”

“Well, I saw the bigger version. The talking one at that restaurant-”

“Burger Town,” Woods said as he gave her a curious look. He tilted his head and moved his arms in a gesture of disbelief.

“Bell, do you not know what Burger Town is?”

By this time Park walked over and was filling the electric kettle with water at the sink.

“Not everyone shares your undying love for American fast food, Woods,” Park said over her shoulder.

Woods tipped his mug at her, “I’m sure you’d never be caught dead inside a Burger Town, Park.”

“Got that right,” She replied as she placed the kettle in its base and turned it on. The kettle clicked and hissed as it heated the water. She then walked back to her desk to jot a few more notes down in her notebook.

“Bell,” Woods said drawing her attention away from the kettle. He had a serious look on his face set down his coffee mug and took a stride towards her. To her surprise he took her wrist in his hand. Shaking his head in disappointment he slipped the keychain off her finger.

“I don’t think I can trust you with this. I’m putting it back.” Woods then looped a finger through the handles of both of mugs and picked them up as well. Bell watched him go. It was only when he had disappeared around the corner did she realize that she was holding her hand, the hand he had just touched, to her chest. She quickly dropped it to her side.

Someone cleared their throat. For such a large man Adler had managed to walk up to her without making much noise. He looked down at her over his sunglasses. His expression was smooth. Everything about him was smooth. She had the distinct impression of a giant cat crouched down, ready to pounce on some unsuspecting animal. Have you ever been attacked by a tiger, Bell?

“Now that you’re done goofing off with Woods, can you get back to work, Bell?” It wasn’t a question. His was voice measured, but his eyes narrowed. Unconsciously, she took a step back. She felt the strange urge to throw her hot coffee in his face. To run. Alarm bells were ringing in her head and somewhere deep down there was another voice telling her-

In a low voice, Adler said, “We have a job to do.” She felt a cold rush hit her. Her body relaxed while her mind snapped to focus. The feeling of anxiety washed away. In front of her stood her old friend. His expression was soft, not angry. He just wanted to find Perseus.

Of course. Bell couldn’t believe for a moment she had thought there was anything sinister about him.

How ridiculous. “Of course, Adler,” She said and picked up her coffee before heading back to work.

Don’t worry, Adler. I’ll figure this out. I know you’re counting on me. Then everything will be like it was.

It was nighttime when Bell left the Safehouse. Pulling her sweater on she stepped out onto the porch and looked out into the dark field the team used for a parking lot. It wasn’t too cold out, even for early March, but Bell wrapped her sweater tightly around her all the same. She found it was constantly falling off her shoulders and she had to wonder why she had bought something so ill-fitting.

But she couldn’t actually remember buying it. Or where she even got it.

As soon as she started thinking about it in any detail the dull ache in her head returned. A clear sign to her that she was just overworked. Of course she had bought it. She just couldn’t recall where at the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Maybe after this mission she would take it easy for a while. Use some vacation time and catch up on sleep.

A soft breeze blew across the lot. The cool air helped to soothe her.

At least she had finally managed to crack the code on the paper tonight. However, she still wasn’t sure how it connected to the rest of the evidence. It felt like even with her best efforts she was only inching forward. And it was only more frustrating when she realized she couldn’t recall the last time she ate. The last time she drank anything that wasn’t coffee. Bell knew she wasn’t taking care of herself the way she should be.

Working on very little sleep, going home, and almost passing out on her bed still fully clothed, smoking the stress away- she wasn’t sure how long she could manage it. But whatever Perseus whatever he was plotting, they needed to get ahead of it, or things were going to get bad. Her health could wait.

Bell lit a cigarette and stepped out into the parking lot. Leaning on Adler’s car, she smoked and enjoyed the peaceful darkness of the night.

The pain in her head was subsiding, though she knew it was only temporary. She needed to eat. Bell placed her cigarette between her lips, freeing her hands. She yanked on her hair tie and pulled out her ponytail. Running her fingers through her hair she shook it out and rubbed at the pressure points along her skull.

“Ugh, my head. Stupid ponytail,” She groaned.

The sound of a lighter clicking drew her attention. She peered into the darkness ahead and saw Woods astride a motorcycle. He was lighting a cigarette and his face was briefly illuminated by the small flame.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Bell said.

“Yeah,” Woods said and shrugged, “You looked like you needed a minute to yourself. Didn’t want to bug you.

Then he added. “You get enough from Adler anyway.”

She opened her mouth to say something in Adler’s defense, but stopped. Instead she walked over to Woods, curious about the motorcycle. She hadn’t seen it in the parking lot before. But then again Woods had been in Kiev up until yesterday.

“Cool motorcycle.”

“Thanks,” He said flashing her a grin, “I’m borrowing it from a friend.”

A moment of silence settled over them. Bell would have liked to talk to him, but she didn’t really have anything to say beyond their work. And she wasn’t interested in talking about that.

Woods was looking out at the road just ahead. He seemed like he was thinking something over and he took a long drag from his cigarette.

“So, Bell,” He started, “I can’t quite let go of the fact that you’ve never had Burger Town before.”

It definitely was not what she would have expected him to say.

“You-“ She paused before repeating him, “can’t let that go?”

He looked her over like he was assessing her. Sizing her up. Like he didn’t know what to make of her.

“No,” He finally said, “Doesn’t sit right with me. Everyone needs to understand the joys of greasy fast food.”

A wide grin spread across his face. Bell wasn’t sure if he was serious.

“Sounds appealing,” She said with a flat voice. With the way she felt, junk food wouldn’t have been her first choice.

“Look, it’s a nice night, and I was going for a ride anyway,” Woods said as he gestured ahead.

“Do you want to come?” He asked.

Bell considered it. She hadn’t been looking forward to going home and making dinner. Not with the way she was feeling. This would be easy and a nice change of pace.

And if she was being honest, spending some time with Woods away from everyone else, sounded pretty good.

At the same time she felt the pull of her work. Something was telling her to head back inside. She had the uncanny feeling that if she did turn around Adler would be in the window watching for her. That disapproving look on his face.

There she was goofing off with Woods again.

Adler’s voice sounded in her head like a radio playing in the back of her mind.

Get back to work, Bell We have terrorists to catch. We’ve got a jo-

She shook his voice from her mind.

“It’s that important to you?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s important.”

“Well, if it’s not important,” Bell said with a shrug.

Woods sighed and picked up his bike helmet holding it out to her. She took it in her hands. Her image, or rather a shadow of her as it was too dark to pick up much detail, reflected in the surface.

It’s how she felt. A shadow of herself. Working herself so hard she was barely even sure she was alive.

“Come on, Bell. Live a little.”

The static in her head had quieted at the sound of his voice. It was like he knew the right words to say. It was a little curious to her why Woods was pushing. No one else seemed concerned or interested about what she did as long as she was working.

Was he really just this passionate about his favorite fast joint? Or maybe this was just his way of getting to know a new teammate. Couldn’t hurt to go especially since they would be continuing to work together.

“Fuck it.” She said softly. Bell took the helmet from him and hopped on the bike.

“All right, hold on,” Woods said.

And before she could do anything, he grabbed her hands and placed them around him.

“I’m not scraping you off the side of the road.”

After some time they pulled into Burger Town. It felt to Bell like Woods may have taken a longer route than necessary. There wasn’t much open road in West Berlin and surely if it was so popular there would be more than one Burger Town location inside the city. So by her judgement they should have reached one sooner. Bell dismounted the bike and handed Woods the helmet.

“Only Burger Town in the city?”

“Wanted a ride, took the scenic route.”

Good enough for her. The ride had been fun so she wasn’t about to complain.

Bell turned towards the brightly lit building. There was a slightly smaller statue of the Burger Town mascot, Bubby, outside to greet customers as they walked in.

She studied his face. His green eyes seemed to follow her wherever she moved. It was as if he would come alive at any moment.

Friend or foe, Bubby?

The one in the Soviet facility had spouted communist propaganda. She wasn’t even sure if this one could talk.

Bell leaned back to look over the entire building. It wasn’t freestanding, but the facade and the interior looked the same.

“Looks so much like the one we saw in the simulation,” Bell said as Woods walked up to join her.

“Yeah, except no Soviet soldiers to contend with.”

Hopefully.

Woods patted one of the outdoor picnic tables.

“You hang out here. I’m gonna go order. Don’t wander off, or Adler’ll kill me.”

Bell rolled her eyes and hopped onto the table. She moved to light a cigarette but realized Woods was still looking at her. It seemed like he was expecting her to confirm that she actually wasn’t going to wander off.

“Where do you think I’m going to go?” She said, laughing a little in disbelief.

Instead of responding, Woods just shook his head and chuckled to himself as he walked towards the restaurant. Bell turned her head and watched him. He tapped the Bubby statue with the flat of his hand before stepping inside.

Bell braced her hand on the table and leaned back looking up into the night’s sky. She didn’t know what to make of Woods. He projected a certain level of toughness, which was expected. His beard and his style of dress seemed to send the message that he was’t someone to mess with.

But at the same time of all the people she had interacted with at the Safehouse, he was the only one who didn’t seem to be holding her at arm’s length. Well, him and Mason. She would have thought, given their reputation, they would be tougher, intimidating.

Hell even mean.

But they had surprised her. Woods especially. Formidable in the field, a good and capable leader, but at the same time able to shamelessly get excited over something as simple as fast food.

Isn’t that healthier? With a job as hard as his, isn’t a little levity necessary?

She blew a puff of smoke into the air and looked up at the stars. A vague memory of a little dog floated up in her mind—a dog in the stars.

A bag landed next to her causing her to start.Bell turned as Woods hopped up on the table next to her.

“You couldn’t just hand it to me like a normal person?” She asked, lazily flicking her cigarette butt away.Woods narrowed his eyes at her, “You’re one to talk about being normal.”

Bell picked up the bag and carefully opened it.

“Hmm,” She peered inside, “It smells good.”

“What did you expect?” Woods was opening his own bag.

“With you? I can’t be sure.”

He chuckled, “Probably a good policy.”

Then he handed handed her a drink cup. The cup was freezing.

“What’s this?” She asked, pulling up her sleeve to wrap it around the cold drink.

“It’s a milkshake-” Woods began.

“Oh, I love these!” Bell interrupted, her eyes lighting up. Woods gave her a surprised look, but she could tell he was pleased by her reaction.

“Can’t remember the last time I bought someone a milkshake,” Woods said with a grin.

“Oh! Did people really do that in the 50s?” Bell asked as she unwrapped a straw and stabbed into the hole in the lid of the milkshake.

“How do you know about that?” Woods asked, giving her a puzzled look, “How do you not know about this Burger Town, but you know that?”

“I saw it in a movie on TV-” Bell started, but this time Woods cut her off.

“Don’t start singing. All those movies had singing in them,” He rolled his eyes, “Besides, I wasn’t a teenager in the 50s.”

Bell drank from her straw and studied him for a moment.

“Old man,” She said finally, grinning around her straw, Woods pointed a french fry at her.

“What was that kid?”

Bell rolled her eyes and looked away from him out into the street.A car drove up and parked right next to Woods’ motorcycle. Pop music blared from the speakers. A group of teenagers hopped out and headed into the restaurant. Though one stayed behind and leaned on the car. He lit a cigarette. They had left the windows rolled down and the engine running so the music kept on playing. It was loud enough that they could hear it from where they sat. It was a familiar tune, but the lyrics were a little odd.

Bell was surprised to see Woods tapping his foot to the beat.

“Didn’t take you for a pop music fan.”

“You spend a lot of time driving you kind of have to like a variety of music, you know?” He said with a shrug, “Anyway it’s catchy.”

Bell could agree with that.

Then she grunted and grabbed the bridge of her nose. Her head had begun pounding again.

“Brain freeze? You’re drinking that thing too fast,” Woods said, “Anyway you should eat something, your burger is getting cold.”

Grabbing the bag between them he handed it to her. Bell wasn’t sure if her head pain was from the cold milkshake or not. But he was right, she did need to eat.

She took out the burger and folded the bag in her lap. Then with great care she peeled back the wrapping on the burger as if it were something delicate. Finally, she took a bite.

It was so good it surprised her. The bun fluffy and sweet. The burger patty itself a bit smoky. Just a little charred on the outside but nice and juicy on the inside. There was also a tangy sauce that complimented the meat well. Not quite mayo and not quite ketchup. And she was certain there were some vegetables in there somewhere. Nothing like farm fresh veggies advertised in the pictures on the menu of course. But a little limp lettuce and a sad tomato didn’t detract from the experience.

Maybe Woods was onto something. Or maybe she was just hungry.

She took a few greedy bites of the burger.

God she really was hungry.

“Ok ok, slow down!” Woods chuckled, “You ever eat?”

Bell looked sheepishly at the remains of the burger in her hand.

Instead of responding to his question she said, “Thanks Woods, it’s nice to do something- something different.”

“What do you mean?” Woods questioned her. His brow was furrowed as he asked, “Don’t you- I thought you, Sims, and Adler were old pals. Don’t you ever- I don’t know, go for beers or anything?”

“This mission is different. Adler is so focused.”

Bell took another bite then set her burger back down on the paper bag in her lap and debated continuing her thought. She brought a crumpled thin napkin to her mouth, dabbing at whatever food debris might be on her face, while she chewed away and considered things. It would be nice to tell someone what had been bothering her. Let it all out. But she didn’t know Woods like that, they had only just met.

Bell briefly glanced at Woods, who gave her a curious look. Something about it seemed to say she could trust him. That he didn’t mind listening to whatever she had to say.

Is that why he took her out here? Maybe he saw it too? Or at least sensed it. A good leader would notice something was wrong, right?

She looked back out in front of them to the street. The teenagers had bought their food and left. And a new car was pulling into the vacated spot.

“I feel like he’s keeping me at arm’s length,” She said finally, keeping her voice low, “Sims is friendlier, but I think he’s still following Adler’s lead.”

“Oh,” Was Woods’ only response. He sounded surprised. They both let that hang in the air for a moment. Neither saying anything.

It seemed to her like Woods was giving her room to talk if she wanted it. And she did want it. She wanted to talk to someone about how she felt. Holding it all in her head was making her feel like she was crazy. But at the same time talking to someone else about Adler, about her friend, felt like she was being disloyal to him.

After all, shouldn’t she at least try to talk to Adler about it? Why did she feel like she couldn’t?

“Look if you ever want to talk about it. Doesn’t have to be now…” Woods trailed off. She knew what he meant, he was leaving the door open to her.

Bell nodded. Then she chuckled to herself.

“He’s gonna be so pissed,” She said by way of explanation.

“Adler?”

“Yeah,” She said with a sigh, “He wants me to just focus on this mission. It’s like he thinks I’m-” Bell paused, thinking over her words. Then she looked at Woods and shrugged before continuing.

“I don’t know. He thinks I can see things differently. He doesn’t want me distracted. You know what I mean?”

And there she was, unloading, just a little. She sighed, it felt so nice in the moment to just say it. Just let it out.

Bell studied Woods’ face for his reaction. He had invited her to talk to him, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d believe what she said. Woods ran his fingers through his dark hair, the movement drawing her eyes up. She hadn’t noticed before how in the midst of the thick black hair there were little bits of white mixed in. The white was especially prominent by his temples. He even had a few streaks in his beard. It was such a stark contrast she wasn’t sure how she had missed it.

His blue eyes were fixed ahead, he must have been thinking through what she said.

“Adler’s pretty intense. But even for him, that’s-” He stopped short as if he just realized something, “Shit, Bell, I didn’t want to make things tense between you two. You wanna head back?”

“No,” Bell said with a shrug, “He’s going to be mad no matter what at this point.”

She took a bite of burger and chewed slowly, thinking.Then she nudged him in the arm, saying, “Anyway, it’s worth it.”

Woods blinked at her then his face broke out in a grin.“So, you like the food?” He asked hopefully.

“And the company.”

She nudged him, again and he chuckled softly. They ate their last bites of food in silence. Bell shoved the burger wrapper back in the bag. Woods hopped off the table and took the bag from her crushing it into a tiny ball and tossing it into the trash.

They walked the few feet to the motorcycle and Woods unlocked the tail box to grab his helmet. He handed it to Bell and shoved his hands in his pockets. When he looked at her again his brow was furrowed.

“Say, Bell. I was wondering, how did you get to Vietnam-”

That was not what she had been expecting.

“Do you really want to trade war stories?” She asked as she fitted the helmet over her head and secured the chin strap.

He kicked the sole of his shoe across the sidewalk, then seeming to make his mind up about something hopped on the bike.

“Nah,” He said finally, “Not really.”

July 1981

Something was off. The worn mattress, stained and smelling vaguely of mildew was somehow worse than it had been the last time she woke up on it. Even with it’s ancient springs that poked out of the thinner sections of fabric, those rusty prongs that somehow hadn’t yet given her tetanus, something that had already been the bare minimum of better than sleeping on cold concrete was now inexplicably worse.

Bell was awake now, but did not open her eyes. She breathed in and coughed as tiny fibers of mattress entered her dehydrated throat. Her jaw ached in protest at the movement. Bell groaned and her jaw ached again.

She was on her belly, sleeping at an angle, her entire right arm and shoulder hanging off the edge of the mattress. The back of her hand and her forearm were touching the cold floor. For a moment she thought she couldn’t feel them. The tips of her fingers were so cold she thought they had gone numb. But they hadn’t as she was able to brace them on the ground and lift herself up.

The blanket that had been draped across her- who the hell would even bother to do that- slipped to the floor. She shivered. By her own measurements she could guess it was summer but this place seemed determined to retain the damp and cold.

And she looked up to the single window in her cell, high up on the ceiling, grated, but open, exposing the room to the elements. A drain sat on the floor beneath it to collect rainwater. How she hadn’t caught pneumonia yet was a mystery to her.

She felt the heaviness in her head of lying in one unsupported position all night. Her lower back felt stretched out in the wrong way. Her chest ached like she had been punched.

She curled her legs under her body and dragged the threadbare blanket off the floor as she wrapped it around herself again. With her right hand she massaged her ice-cold toes, her fingers occasionally running over the soft bare nail beds. The feeling of her missing toenails was unsettling and still caused her to shiver. She pushed them from her mind and looked around sorting through the events again in her mind. They must have drugged her. Again.

And that’s how she hadn’t noticed, until this very moment, that they had taken her bedframe.

Bell looked over the mattress. A new dark stain had blossomed over the spot where her head had just been. A vague memory came back to her, the origin of pain in her jaw. She touched her face and with a fingernail chipped away at the thin crust of blood that had settled over her chin.

A realization pushed through her drug-hazed brain and panic thrilled through her. She shoved her finger in her mouth, feeling around, just to be sure. And she relaxed when she found that amazingly all her teeth seemed to be intact. The kick seemed to have only skimmed over her jaw, probably cutting her lip, thus the blood. She didn’t know how they would manage a broken tooth here, but she could imagine that they wouldn’t have the patience or the skill of a practiced dentist. And even if they did they would go for the most painful option anyway. Bell hadn’t been the most cooperative of prisoners.

She rubbed her temples with the heels of her hands. The pressure at least helped to mitigate the ache for a time. Then bracing a hand against the wall behind her, she stood up. Bell fell back into the wall again but was able to just catch herself with her hands.

“Too fast,” She muttered to herself.

Bowing forward slightly to keep the lightheadedness at bay, she once again rose onto her feet. The mattress squeaked in protest, and she walked the long way off of it so she could keep her hand braced on the wall.

The head rush caused the ache in her jaw to throb and send little shocks to the nerve endings across various points in her face.

It had been worth it. She couldn’t recall exactly what lead up to her being kicked in the face, but at a certain point in her stay she realized she might die here. And she made up her mind to make her captor’s lives hell as much as she could until then.

The bed frame had been part of a poorly devised escape plan.

Had it worked it would have been something. And she would be miles away trying to figure out her next steps.

Anyway what does a person with no friends in the world and about six months total of real memories do with freedom?

Where would she go? Well she and-

Bell shook her head. She needed to take things one at a time. First escape, then figure out what to do. Even a carefully laid plan could have some hiccups. She had been down here for months without a clue what was happening outside. Her face could be plastered over every newspaper and post office in the world. That was the consequences of being a part of a plot to blow up a quarter of it.

No no, neutron bomb, remember? Organic material.

Just the people.

Monster.

She sighed and leaned against her hand still braced on the wall. Her fingers curled over the pockmarked concrete. Her empty stomach churned as the acid inside it threatened to rise up her dry throat. She coughed.

“Don’t vomit,” She ordered herself. She had nothing to vomit, it would just be burning acidic mucus and make her feel worse rather than better.

But her stomach did seem to settle. Hot tears rolled over her cheeks and fell from her face and staining the concrete by her nailless toes. Bell pulled her dirty shirt over her face to wipe her cheeks and her nose before pushing off the wall and staggering over to the opposite end of the room.

She pressed the palms of her hands into the wall while she carefully and slowly kneeled. She felt around the floor for a suitable sharp piece of broken concrete. Finding one, she stood again and studied the growing collection tiny marks she had made on the wall as she tried to remember where she left off.

Did it really matter?

Bell ran her fingers over the grooves. Some of the paint around them flaked off and disintegrated when it hit the ground.

Based on the amount of marks she could just about guess it was July. But hell it could be August for all she knew. Between the drugging and all the games they played she could be missing whole days.

She placed her forehead against a clean patch of wall letting the cold concrete soothe her aching head.

How much of her life had slipped away from her?

She couldn’t focus on it. Bell closed her eyes and tried to push it from her mind.

With her mind nearly blank, a song she had heard, maybe once or twice, in the short period of her life that she remembered came to mind. It was amazing how she could be made to forget a lifetime, but an earworm would always stay an earworm.

“Wasting all my time-“ Bell sung into the wall, her voice cracking at the last word.

She firmly, placed her hand on the wall and carved a line into it, starting a new row of tics.

The song continued to run through her head. It was like she was there again. In her tiny collection of memories there were only a select few that she would have described as happy. And even those were tainted now weren’t they?

She raised her fist and slammed it against the wall. More paint flaked away turning into dust on the ground. Bell turned and leaned against the wall.

Then she slid her back down the wall to sit on the floor.

What motivation did she have to keep going?

What was the point of her being here when she could have easily just died on that cliffside? She looked to the window where she could just see the waxing moon in the sky.

Bell shook her head.

“No,” She whispered to herself.And then she recited the same lines she recited every night for the past few months. Words that Adler had embedded in her head, like the song, played as if on repeat.

If I am captured, I will continue to resist by any means available.I will make every effort to escape.

Those words drove her forward. Kept her on her feet. She rolled the concrete stone between her fingers.

Bell smiled and rested her head against the wall again. Maybe the means to Adler’s destruction.

“I know what I’ll do if I get out,” She whispered to the room, “I’ll fucking kill them.”

Tomorrow she would try again.

Tomorrow she would escape.

#call of duty #cod bell #fanfic #frank woods #alex mason #helen park #russell adler #eleazar azoulay #lawrence sims #jason hudson #cod cold war #frank woods x bell #efing fanfics #efingfanfics #my art #myart

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

peace

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: natasha wanted to marry you more than she wanted everything, but how was she supposed to propose to you and ask you to be hers forever when she couldn’t give you even the simplest of things?

warnings: so this is minimal angst, don’t be fooled, this is fluff, ya know the drill. this may or may not be cheesy, but i tried

word count: 6.4k, short and sweet

so, i listened to peace by taylor swift while i wrote this one. take that information how you wish lollll. also, not edited!

Natasha met you years ago. You were the bright eyed girl at the front counter of an ice cream shop near the tower, soft serve shop. Natasha, ever the reader of mankind, immediately knew that you were kind, patient and simply sweet. Sweeter than the vanilla cone she had treated herself to, the one that you had made yourself because your coworkers were on an extra long break that wasn’t exactly authorized.

You knew who she was, but you didn’t ask her for anything. No autograph, no murmuring of a catchphrase, nothing about whether or not Captain America would be into you. Natasha admired that. She loved that she saw the flash of excitement and recognition in your eyes, but that it never went further than you asking her if she wanted sprinkles.

That one encounter led to many more. Soon, you two were on a date, after you had been brave enough to ask if she wanted to go on a picnic in the park after she kept coming into the store. And that one date was enough for you both to know that you wanted to see each other again, and again, and again.

You and Natasha spent two months dating each other before making it official, and it was the best decision either of you had ever made.

You made her feel like she was needed and loved, and she made you feel like you were cherished and safe. The feeling that you got when you looked at her was just so… natural. You weren’t worried about angering her, or about messing up in front of her. She made you feel calm, and one look at her washed all the jitters out of your nerves easily.

And in return, there was no one on the entire planet that made Natasha as happy as you did. You were the one, and it was almost over night when she realized that you were it.

One night, she was in bed next to you after a long day of training recruits and having a briefing for an upcoming mission. She had only been in your apartment for about twenty minutes, just lying in your gentle and welcoming arms, and she was fighting the urge to nod off where she felt safest. She was tired, but she knew one thing above everything else, and it was that she wasn’t going to waste an entire night with you because she wanted to sleep.

“You don’t have to stay awake, sprinkles.” You said to her in the dark room, your hand smoothing her hair. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day.” Maybe that’s when Natasha should have noticed. When the urge to talk to you was stronger than the drive that she had while training recruits, or when she nearly forgot that she couldn’t go home early because of how much she was just ready to.

“I won’t be upset, you work hard,” you said softly. “You deserve some peace and quiet. Sleep, I’ve got you.”

Natasha did a few things for the first time in a long time that night.

One: she felt at peace enough to fall asleep immediately.

Two: she went to sleep with the sound of someone humming in her ear.

Three: she realized that she was completely in love with her girlfriend.

There were plenty of times that hinted to her that she was falling in love. She looked for you or an essence of you everywhere, from seeing something the color of your eyes to looking over at your favorite brand of yogurt in the grocery store and contemplating buying it. Whenever you smiled, she couldn’t help but grin twice as big. If you laughed, she was happy. When you were upset, she wanted nothing more than to make it better, than to eliminate whatever it had been that made you feel that way. She would do anything for you. And she really believed that you would do anything for her right back.

Your relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was damn near it. It was the thing Natasha was most proud of, just like you were the person that Natasha was proudest of to call hers. And she wanted that. She wanted you to be hers for the rest of your life, and she wanted nothing more than to be officially yours.

And that was why she stood in a high end jewelry store that specialized in special rings, closed for two hours from the public just for her. And Tony and Steve, who desperately wanted to tag along.

Tony was more of the planner and the doer. He was the one pointing out the rings that seemed pretty, the ones that looked like they would fit your style. He was the businessman, ready to negotiate price even though he could easily afford the entire store ten times over. Steve, however, was the mother hen. Hovering mostly silently, an excited buzz flowing out and touching everyone else in the vicinity. He was excited for Natasha, it was obvious, and he also wanted to make her feel as comfortable and ready as possible.

“That one’s pretty, isn’t it?” Tony muttered, pointing towards an intricate ring with a diamond in the middle of the studded band. “Y/N likes stuff like that.”

“No she doesn’t,” Steve cut in, and he pointed to a ring that was quite literally the opposite of the one Tony was referring to. It was a simple ring, one with a silver band and a decently sized diamond in the middle. It was clearly an engagement ring, but it wasn’t flashy. “That one is probably closer to what she’d like.”

Everyone in the tower knew you well. Natasha made sure that you knew her friends well when you two started to get really involved. You introduced her to your siblings and parents, and she let you meet her own family, the Avengers. Natasha remembered the day that you met everyone vividly. Everyone had loved you immediately, and she was so proud of the way that you handled yourself while being so nervous. Hell, she was always proud of you.

You made fast and sturdy friendships with everyone and fit in well, and that was all Natasha could ever ask for. Eventually, she started to bring you over at least once a week just to hang out with everyone, to get you familiar with every member of her found family.

Perhaps that was another sign that she should have taken and read. She had never introduced a significant other to the family that she cherished so much, not once before you.

“Steve’s right,” Natasha murmured, and she heard Tony’s playful scoff. “But I have no idea when I’m going to actually do it.”

“You don’t have a trip planned?” Tony asked incredulously. “Well, I can schedule anything you want, whenever you want. Just ask me.”

Natasha knew exactly what Tony was referring to. He had gone above and beyond for every romantic gesture that was ever for Pepper, and Natasha knew that your relationship wasn’t like that. You didn’t need grand gestures or long trips to beaches. The both of you were happier than ever just being with each other. She knew that you would cry in the middle of a Wendy’s if she popped the question there and held her hand patiently waiting for the ring. The location mattered the least.

“We probably won’t do a trip, that’ll make it obvious.” There was one thing that Natasha was very picky about that had to do with the whole affair, and that was surprise. She wanted you to be the most pleasantly surprised you had ever been in your life, and she wanted to watch those beautiful eyes of yours light up and start to water in the most joyous of ways. She wanted the cheesy hand-over-heart move, the hand grabbing, the excited chatter of a small gathering of random people looking. And most of all, she wanted to hear your elated yes and she wanted to slip the ring onto your ring finger, and she never wanted to see it off from that moment on.

But that was just her.

Natasha, Steve, and Tony spent another hour in the jewelry store. The owner was buzzing around, clearly excited for the amount of business that their presence was sure to rope in. He took a picture of them and promised not to release it until Natasha proposed, even though he was quite literally bursting at the seams to brag about it. In the end, Natasha ended up getting a pretty ring with a silver band and a nice sized diamond, simple and just your type.

They were on their way out when Tony spotted paparazzi. He stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Okay, I’ll go first to lead them away.”

“Why?”

“If Y/N sees you on a tabloid at a ring shop with me and Steve… the surprise is up.” Tony made a clicking noise with his tongue and left without anything else to say, strolling out and indeed leading all of the people with cameras away from the shop, all of them entranced by the billionaire.

To be safe, Natasha and Steve waited for a few more minutes before walking out and getting jumbled in with the crowd. Her grip on the bag was tight, and she was holding the box in her hand through it. So, are you excited?”

“Not as excited as you,” she teased, but even she could hear the nerves in her voice. “I just don’t wanna ruin anything.”

“Please,” Steve scoffed. “Y/N is so in love with you that I forget that you two aren’t already married, honestly.”

Steve saying it aloud made Natasha’s heart race, even though she already knew that. That was one of the million wonderful qualities about you. She never had to ask you for validation, because you told her with everything you did. You tapped her hand three times at parties. You whispered it into her ear before you both went to sleep. You kissed her cheek or her jaw when she started to get antsy, and rubbed her back while you did it. Every touch, every kiss, every breath that the both of you took told the other that you loved them. There was no question about that.

“So, what are you worried about? She’ll say yes. Everyone knows that.”

If only Steve knew that it was so much more than you saying a three letter word instead of a two letter one.

They walked back in silence to the tower, comfortable silence between two friends who were both deep in their own heads even as they swiped their clearance cards and went into the elevator.

§§

Natasha always felt bad when she lied to you, no matter how small or white the lie was. One day, it was small and for the both of you, but it still didn’t smooth the guilt.

She had told you that she had a late night meeting, top secret, and that she would call you when you could come up in her room. “So, that’s the plan.”

“You’re gonna pop the question of your lives in the park?” Tony asked, a brow quirked upwards. “Well, to each their own.”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “That’s a really sweet idea, Nat. Tony, here, is just annoying.”

“Thank you, Wanda.” Natasha said, and then turned to the billionaire. “So, what would you do, then?”

“I would go on a crui-”

“Yeah, I’m thinking Nat wants a more casual approach,” Sam said, giving Tony a once over. “So the park would be great.”

“I know,” she said absentmindedly, thoughts already on the next hour, where she would be on the couch in her quarters with you, watching one of your favorite shows together.

“We’re still allowed to come, right?” Wanda asked, gently bringing Natasha out of her thoughts.

“Of course.” That was another thing she really wanted. Her family had to see everything happen first hand, that was non negotiable. “Just lurk in the shadows, she’ll know what's happening if she sees all of you.”

That night, she left the tower to go to your apartment rather than just have you come over and swipe your card that Tony had made you. She figured that the less people around that knew about the proposal, the less likely it was that someone was going to spoil it.

She wasn’t an idiot. Weddings were special to you. Hell, when you were younger, you used to want to be a wedding planner. Natasha knew that a goal in your life was to be loved by someone so much that they wanted to spend their life with you, and luckily, the both of you found that in each other.

“Baby,” Natasha called when she stepped through the threshold of your apartment, her ears already pricked up as she heard the television coming from the room that you had moved half of her belongings into. She smiled as she walked closer, purposely making her footfalls a little louder so that she didn’t startle you.

You were smiling at her when she opened the door to the bedroom, and Natasha felt her heart stutter for a second as she caught her bearings. “Hi, sprinkles. How was work?”

She would never get tired of the sound of your voice. “It was alright.” Natasha walked over to you, and you leaned into her hand, the same one that always reached for your face and cradled your cheek, her own little greeting. “You weren’t there, so.”

“Sadly I was doing soft serve,” you said, rolling your eyes at the customers you had encountered. “And one woman was particularly… not nice.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” Natasha said softly, pulling you closer. “At least now all you have to worry about is sitting down in time to catch your show.”

“That is my only worry,” You agreed playfully. “Come sit, I’m tired. And I know you are, too.”

§§

Natasha thought that she was going to do it as you walked through the park, on a trail that the rest of the Avengers were following you on flawlessly. She was surprised that they could keep that quiet for that long, especially Steve, with his non-stealthy physique and training. But they were doing it. In a way, it made Natasha worried out of her mind that you couldn’t feel that five people were trailing you. But she forced that part of her mind, the one that was always so overwhelmed with the need to keep you close and safe, to the back of her mind, and instead felt for the little box in her pocket.

“Oh, do you hear that bird singing?” You asked softly, trying not to disturb the peace. She watched your eyes scan the tips of the trees, watching as a smile grew on your face and planting one of her own. “I wish I could see it.”

“You go bird watching all the time,” Natasha mused at you, and you snorted a bit.

“But we never really sit down and do it together,” you said after a moment, and just like that, Natasha’s excitement was dried out. Her fingers left the box in her jacket pocket, and her hand swung at her side with the other held by your hand.

“What?”

“We just don’t do it much, ‘s all.” Like you sensed that you had said something that changed the mood of your little stroll, you turned to look at her. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

But there was. There was everything wrong with that statement. Mostly because it was one hundred percent true. The two of you didn’t have any time to bird watch or stargaze like you wanted to. And it wasn’t on your end, no, it was on her’s.

She came home late more often than not. She left early in the morning, sometimes before the sun even rose. She was sent on missions that were weeks long, sometimes even months. Sometimes, she didn’t even get to warn you or say goodbye before she had to get on a quinjet, just up and leaving and sending a text, apologizing for things she couldn’t control.

“Nat?” She hadn’t even realized that she stopped walking. But she had. Her arm was stretched out towards you because you hadn’t dropped her hand yet, and you closed the gap between the two of you with a look of concern on your face. “You okay?”

“Um, yeah.” She cleared her throat and rubbed her face with her hand, blinking a few times as the familiar guilty feeling burned in her chest like acid. “Wanna keep walking?”

For the rest of the walk, Natasha was stuck in her head. She was good at multitasking, so she indulged you and your words to the best of her ability while she thought about how terrible she felt for you. She couldn’t even take you birdwatching. And she thought that you would want to marry her?

“Are you ready to head back, darling?” Natasha asked once the sun started to finally make its retreat, and after she felt that the others had left and were far ahead of them. They knew her just as well as you did, and they knew that it wasn’t the day that she was going to ask.

“As long as it’s with you,” you murmured, and then you turned around to press your lips to hers in an innocent, binding kiss, and then pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Natasha said back just as sincerely, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you right in the trail, closing her eyes tight and waiting for the feet and doubt to subside.

It didn’t.

§§

It took two more failed attempts for Steve to finally come knocking on her door one night. The night of the third failed proposal attempt, everyone was anxious to see a ring on your finger, and everyone just wanted it to be done so that they could plan the wedding.

Natasha was not on the same page.

At first, the team was confused. Natasha’s love for you never wavered. It was as certain as the sun rising and falling, as the tide coming in and going out. It was constant, and it never faltered. So her backing out of making it official, of finally tying to knot with you, confused everyone. And then, they thought about what exactly made the change in conversation.

Wanda was the one to crack the code. She subtly picked at Natasha’s mind during the last of the failed proposals, and when she came back out into the present, she didn’t seem surprised at all.

The first thing that Wanda said when they all got back to the car was, “she doesn’t think that she’s enough.”

Doubt.

Natasha Romanoff never doubted herself. She was the best assassin in the world, capable of literally anything that she put her mind to. She had no reason to doubt herself. Until she started to work for someone else, not just for herself.

“What is she doubting?” Tony muttered, the exhaustion at watching one of the boldest people he knew dancing around a woman who clearly loved her to death. “Y/N is going to say yes. She would say it if Nat asked her on the toilet.”

“No, it’s not that,” Wanda said softly, shaking her head. “She thinks that she’s… neglecting her. That her presence isn’t often enough. She feels guilty about her job.”

Silence.

That was something many of them who had relationships dealt with. The balance between domestic life and life as an Avenger was hard to achieve. Not only did the Avenger have to know when to separate things. The Avenger also had to find someone who knew what they did, what their job entailed, and that they would both have to make sacrifices. You knew how to do those things. So what was the problem?

“Y/N takes the distance and the danger really well,” Steve stated. “So, what’s the problem?”

Wanda shrugged. “There was… there was more. But I didn’t have enough time to really see.”

While the others tried to figure out what was going on the the former assassin’s brain, Natasha was back in her room, sitting and twiddling her thumbs as she thought. Her eyes kept going back to the box, resting on it very now and then before she looked away in apprehension.

There were three knocks on her door, way too harsh and precise to be you. Besides, you hardly ever knocked, just as she never knocked on your door. “Um,” Natasha started, and then her brows furrowed as she put the ring in a drawer just in case. “Come in.”

Steve Rogers was standing at her door, arms crossed, a slightly disappointed look set on his face. “What’s up?”

Natasha raised a perfect brow. “You came to my room, Cap.” She crossed her arms as well, even though they both knew that neither was on the defensive. “Are you okay?”

“Why haven’t you done it yet?”

Her heart dropped to her toes, but she knew how to control her facial expressions. She was sure that she would never lose that skill, no matter how old she got and how much she would start to forget things. “Done what?”

Steve shut the door. “You haven’t proposed to her yet. Why not?”

“The time wasn’t right.”

“That’s a lie.”

She wasn’t used to Rogers calling her out so fast. Typically, she was an A list liar, and the only person she failed at lying to was you. She rarely ever did that, and when she did, it was for the better. Like, when she would tell you that she would be back within a few hours knowing that it would be about two nights still. Or when she would tell you that she wasn’t hurt, knowing good and well she had been bleeding out five minutes not even two minutes before she made the call.

The second lie that came to mind came flying out of her mouth. “I’m scared she’ll say no.”

Steve rolled his eyes, to Natasha’s surprise and sligh humor. “She’d find a way to say yes to you even in the afterlife, Natasha. You can’t play the lying game. Not with me, not with us, and especially not with her.”

“Why are you so worked up right now?”

“Because you deserve happiness, and it’s right there in front of you. You’re throwing it away, for what?”

“I never said that I wasn’t going to propose,” the redhead defended, but Steve just put his hands on his hips.

“I can see it in your eyes. You’re not going to unless someone pushes you, and because Y/N can’t in this situation, then I will.” His “Captain” voice was on. “It’s much more than you being worried about something that won’t ever happen, so what’s wrong, Natasha?”

Natasha stood there for a second, her eyes narrowed on him as her face stayed still, and her mind raced a thousand miles an hour. She pursed her lips after a few seconds and breathed in, trying to decide whether or not to spill everything to one of the people that she trusted the most in life, one of the few that she trusted with her very life itself. Her mouth started moving before she could even approve its speech.

“Because of who I am and what I do, I can never give her what she deserves. I can never give her the suburban life, the calm life, the one where all she has to worry about is whether or not she’ll have to go to the store to get more cheese. I can never give her that.”

“I have money, she’ll never have to worry about going hungry or not being able to do things, yes, but at what cost? At the cost of me leaving her by herself one day for forever because of one wrong step? At the cost of me not being there to hold her at night or wake up with her in the morning? I can’t even do simple things with her like stargazing because I don’t have time for it. I don’t have time for her, do you realize how horrible that is? How terrible I feel?”

Whatever Steve was expecting, it surely wasn’t that. Natasha was never one to have an outburst, even with the people she was the most comfortable with. But there she was, spilling all of the feelings she had been harboring within seconds, her eyes resting on Steve’s as they both refused to look away for more than a few seconds at a time.

“I can never give her a calm life without worry, or without pain. She’ll have to be scared about whether or not I got shot in Siberia, or if I’m rotting somewhere at the bottom of a cliff, or if I’m a prisoner halfway across the world. All I bring to the table is worry, and all I want to give her is what she gives me every second I’m with her. Peace. I want that so badly, and she deserves it more than anything. And I can’t give it to her.”

Steve was silent for a moment, and a singular moment turned into two. “Have you ever asked her what she wants?”

The question stopped Natasha’s erratic thoughts in their tracks. “What?”

“Natasha, she’s been with you for years now, and I’ve never heard her complain about your job. I’ve never even seen her cry about you being gone more than anyone else would. She knows what you do, and she knew that when she agreed to be your girlfriend. She wouldn’t have stayed with you if she couldn’t handle it.”

“How do I know she’s handling it?”

“Ask her.” Steve said softly, like he was nudging her with his words alone. “You’ll only know if you ask her.”

As she drove to your apartment that night, her mind was buzzing with nerves. “Ask her,” she mocked, making her voice deeper. “Not that easy.”

The door was open when she got there, enough to make Natasha shout your name with anxiety in her voice, and that sound was enough to make you come poking your head out from the kitchen.

“You alright, sprinkles?”

Natasha could breathe again. And when she inhaled, she smelled chicken in the air. She grinned. “Perfect now,” she said, shutting the door, locking it, and walking over to you.

§§

It hit her in bed with you that she should bring it up. You two always had conversations before bed, it didn’t matter what about. Sometimes, the conversations were as serious as a heart attack, and other times, they were about whether or not Candyland was a good game. That night, it was leaning on the more serious side.

“Y/N,” Natasha called softly, and you hummed in response. “Do you… are you happy? With me?”

The soft humming that was coming from your throat cut off abruptly at the question, a question Natasha had never asked you before. To say that you were confused was an understatement. You two had almost always been on the same page, and if one of you were to be unhappy, the other would know. “Of course I am, Natasha. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Do you think that my job complicates things between us?”

Natasha sat up after you did, looking at her like she was in the process of growing a second head. “What?” Before she couldn’t say much else, you were talking again. “Who put that idea into your head? No, your job doesn’t put a strain on us, unless you feel something on your side?”

“No, no,” Natasha rushed out. “I just… I don't want you to feel like I’m neglecting you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re not getting what you need from me, as a w-girlfriend.”

“Natasha,” your voice was soft in the night, a satisfied and sweet whisper that never failed to calm her nerves. “You give me everything I could ever ask for. You always have, and I think you always will. Is this about stargazing?”

“What?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you got weird when we were walking in the park,” you said softly, your fingers tracing little hearts on her back. “I told you that we didn’t go stargaze or bird watching together, and you got upset. Is that what this is about?”

She couldn’t lie to you. “Somewhat.”

“Oh, Nat,” you said, and you pulled her closer to you, resting your head on her chest and listening to her heartbeat, steady and constant. “I don’t care about that. All I care about is you.”

“Do you even see enough of me?”

“Your job does not affect me whatsoever,” you answered. “I knew who you were and what you did when I asked you to go to that picnic with me, remember? I knew exactly what you did, and I knew around how much I could or could not be seeing you. I knew everything. So, why would I back out now after all these years? And why would I leave you?”

You had no idea how soothing your words were to Natasha in that moment. To you, it was just reassurance, affirmative words. To her, it was everything. It was the solution to all of her worries regarding the ring that was in her dresser back at the Tower.

“The point is, I could wait up for you to get home until four in the morning and make dinner for you after a long mission every day for the rest of my life, if you wanted me to.” The tracing of hearts never stopped on Natasha’s skin, but her breathing surely did for a second. “Because, what’s losing a few days compared to sharing a lifetime?”

Natasha smiled as the fear washed out of her system like it had never been there. More or less, you had just confessed to her that you wanted to be with her for a lifetime, and that for that lifetime, you didn’t mind any of the things that she was worried about. She was going to do it.

§§

After a short chat with the team, Natasha was finally ready. Like they could all tell that it was the day, they gave her a serious pep talk and Tony even muttered his premature congratulations, even though Wanda insisted that saying it before was a form of bad luck.

The plan was set. She was going to get you from work, pretend like you were going to go to dinner, and then take you stargazing. And then, she was going to pop the question. And hopefully, most likely, you were going to say “yes”.

When her car rolled up to the windows of your store while you were cleaning, you laughed. “Hi, Nat! What’s up?”

“Just here to pick you up,” she said with a smile, and your grinned at her.

“Alright, give me fifteen.”

By the time you had gotten home, gotten dressed and were both seated in the car, Natasha’s hands were sweaty, and the weight of the little box was somehow heavier than anything Natasha had ever carried before. Her leg was bouncing up and down in the driver’s seat, and she hoped that you paid no mind to it.

“It’s pretty tonight,” you mused, and she nodded.

“Yep, very clear.” And it was pure luck. She thanked all the gods that were ever worshipped that it was a clear night. “You can see everything.”

“Yeah, you can.”

“Do you… do you wanna go look at the stars?” She asked, and you turned your head to the side to look at her, a spark in your eyes that had just caught flame.

“You didn’t reserve anything, right?”

Natasha had forgotten about the fake dinner already, her eager mind already onto the next stage. “Oh? No. I didn’t.”

“Then, we should ditch the food and do that. I’ll make you dinner after.”

When Natasha parked on the side of the road, it was empty. It was emptier than it usually was at night, and the closest street lights were off. It made it much easier to see the stars. You were the first one to sit down on the dry grass, and you patted the spot beside you, urging Natasha to sit down with you. The second she did, you laid down and sighed, eyes on the sky.

After a few moments of holding hands with eyes to the stars, roaming the dark blue sky in silence, you quietly began to speak. “It’s so pretty,” you murmured. “I haven’t done this in forever, and I hardly remember what it was like, but I can’t imagine that any other time could have been better than a time with you.”

Natasha turned her head into your neck, resting it there like she always did. “I love you,” she whispered, and you shivered at the intensity laced between the three words, the sincerity warming your heart. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” you responded, just as genuinely. You tapped her hand three times with your pointer finger, saying it twice. “More than I love the stars.”

You two stayed there for hours, just watching the sky and ignoring the dull hunger pains that kept leaving and coming back. You spent a little time pointing out constellations, and Natasha told you how to navigate using the stars. Eventually, it was time to leave, and Natasha reached her hand out to you once she stood up.

Natasha slowly walked you towards the car, but you didn’t notice how out of character it was for her to walk without a sense of urgency in the moment. She knew that you couldn’t hear their footsteps, but she could. They were soft and familiar, trying not to alert you of their presence, and they were succeeding. Natasha cleared her throat softly and swallowed her fears.

“Y/N,” she started, and you furrowed your brows at the usage of your name. “Do you remember how we first met?”

You stopped walking, your back towards the approaching people. “Of course I do,” you responded, a smile on your face as you reminisced. “You ordered a cone with no sprinkles, what a weirdo.”

“Is it weird for me to say that I knew?”

“Knew what?”

“I knew that you were going to be a part of my life somehow. Whether it was going to be a friendship, a relationship, or even just an acquaintanceship, I didn’t know. But I knew you’d be around.”

“That’s so sweet, Tasha.” Your bottom lip poked out and you went in to hug her, closing your eyes as you held her tight and then pulled away. “I think I knew after our third date.”

Natasha cracked a smile, even though she felt like she was going to throw up. “Coney Island?”

“Coney Island,” you confirmed, eyes glimmering under the starlight. Natasha was about to get lost in them, well on her way, before she shook her head and cleared her throat again, checking behind you discreetly to make sure that everyone was hiding before she turned you both sideways, so that your side profiles were visible to the others.

“But… you have the most beautiful soul that I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. You're everything I could ever dream of asking for, and I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. You’re my day and night, my high tide and low tide, and you’re the only person I’ll ever admit that I need. Because it’s true. You give me a peace that I never hoped to ever receive from anything, and I love you even more for that. You are just… you’re the one for me. And I…” she swallowed as her eyes tore away from yours, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her jacket. “I’m sorry I’m no good at speeches, but I...”

She reached into both pockets at the same time and pulled the box out in a swift movement, and before you even knew what she had done, she was on one knee right in front of you. A strangled noise came from your throat, a gasp and a sigh all the same, and then you put one hand over your mouth.

Natasha’s eyes were watering, and so were yours. “I would be the luckiest woman in the world, the most privileged and honored person in the entire universe, if you let me marry you.”

There was utter silence for a second besides your harsh and surprised breathing. Then, a gasp left your mouth. “Natasha!” You shrieked, a hand still over your mouth as the tears ran down your face, reflecting the joy you felt on the inside. Your emotions roared and rushed inside of you, like a furious river of elation. You blinked rapidly, but you were so happy that your eyes didn’t even get that familiar burning feeling that came with the tears.

“Is that even a fucking question?” You bent down to her level and your lips met hers, passionately and full of love and relief. Neither of you noticed the clapping and cheers after being so immersed in each other.

Natasha pulled away, a shit-eating grin on her face as she started to say something to you, right when you noticed everyone else around you. “Wait, baby, let me put the-”

“Have you been here the whole time?” You shouted towards the rest of the team, who were all watching with proud and excited expressions, and Wanda nodded.

“Most of the time,” she grinned, and you wiped the tears from your face, only to see the one and only Tony Stark recording you and Natasha, who was still on one knee in front of you, holding one of your hands.

“Can I?” Natasha asked from her kneeling position, gesturing towards the ring, and you nodded excitedly. She slipped it on your left ring finger, and you yanked her up with such excitement that she was sure that one of her bones popped, but she didn’t care. She kissed you again, a sweet and meaningful kiss, before she hugged you tightly.

“Thank you.”

You would have been confused if you weren’t on a high. You were going to get married. To Natasha. You were going to have forever with her, like you always wanted. “For what?”

She kissed the shell of your ear softly, and then your jaw and cheek, right where you always kissed her. “For everything, darling.” You leaned back into her, your face in her neck, and she made brief eye contact with her friends, who were all looking at the display of affection with soft eyes and even more tender hearts. She closed her eyes as she felt your heart beating against her chest, savoring the feeling of being so close to the woman that she loved unconditionally, her soon-to-be wife. “For everything.”

****

hey guys! hope y’all liked this one, i wrote it in two hours, and then thought about deleting it, but here she stands. if you liked it, feel free to like and reblog! comments are also widely appreciated, i love those! also, i wanna make friends up here so feel free to blow up my messages! hope you have a great day/night 💕

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #lgbt #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #natasha x you #the avengers #black widow #natasha fluff

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