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hiiraya · 14 days ago

Text

loml

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst, happy ending (?), literally just self-indulgent writing, messy writing, listen to loml by taylor swift to get in the sad mood

a/n: merry christmas everyone! the last thing I posted was january of 2022 and it's literally about to be 2025 - I've been in a reminiscing mood lately and this was something I've had in the drafts for months, I figured I should just release it to get it out of my system. your girl has been missing someone bad bro and the urge to tag them in this is insane ♡ anyways, hope they see this lmao

“Have a safe flight and text me when you land, yeah?”

“I will, I will. Get home safe and update me as well, okay?”

You release your cousin from your hold, giving their shoulder a quick squeeze as they pull away. You do a last minute check with them to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything important - something you were always prone to do when travelling by yourself. The memory of you almost missing your international flight because you had rushed home and back to the airport within record speed, all because you had forgotten your passport of all things.

“I’ll fly out to see you next time, so you can show me around.” You smile.

“Are you guys serious? I told you to leave early so that this exact thing wouldn’t happen!”

Your eyebrows immediately furrow at the familiar voice, catching one last glance of your cousin as they enter the security screening area, waving to them while you mouth one last ‘text me when you land!’ as they leave your sight, before turning around to find the source of the voice.

No way it’s her, you thought. What’s she doing here?

As you get closer to the arrivals board, your questions are answered. Standing there in all her glory, is the one woman you never thought you’d lay your eyes on again.

“Natasha?”

You see the puzzled look on her face as she registers your voice before she even lays her eyes on you. Watching as the confusion turns to irritation - whether it was towards you or whoever was on the other side of the phone, you couldn’t tell (most likely both) - you watch as a deep sigh she releases as she glances at the board in front of her once again.

“-that’s another 10 hours before you guys even land.” She sighs, exasperation lacing her voice.

“Hey, listen if you need help-”

She holds a finger up to silence you, eyes meeting yours in a piercing glance. “I don’t need help, and especially not from you Y/N L/N.”

At her words, you look down, the sight of your shoes a welcome one as you take a second to recover. Honestly, you thought to yourself, I deserved that.

“Yes, it’s Y/N- no I did not! I swear I didn’t know that they were here.” You hear her mutter from beside you. Deciding to save the both of you from further embarrassment, you turn your attention elsewhere, wondering what your cousin would say once you eventually tell them about who you ran into immediately after they left.

You lift your head back up when you hear Natasha mumble "you guys pick the day before Christmas of all days to be late for your flight” followed by a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone, watching her scope the airport for her next step.

You could just leave and pretend this ever happened.

“Come on, Nat, I promise I just want to help.” You find yourself saying instead. “I can take you to your hotel when they get here.”

Well, there's no going back from that now.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

You really needed to stop opening your mouth.

“Okay, you know what, I deserve that.” You pause. “Listen, I’m not going to force you to come with me, but the offer is still there if you want it. You’ll get a free ride, plus you can use my apartment to rest and freshen up while you wait.”

-x-

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

You spare a glance to Natasha, who was currently sitting in your passenger seat.

"You're the one that followed me to the car?"

She rolls her eyes at your confused tone, choosing to ignore what you said and instead checking her phone - most likely waiting for an update from whoever she was speaking to on the phone before. "I can't believe they missed their flight."

"Who's they?"

"Yelena, Maria, Wanda," she answers. "Oh, and Yelena's friend Kate too. I don't think you've met her."

You bit the inside of your cheek, because you already know that you didn't get to meet anyone named Kate while you were still together. You honestly didn't get to meet many of Natasha's friends whenever visited her - it was something you always fought over. It felt like she was ashamed of you, always wanting to keep you hidden, a secret she never planned on sharing with the world.

You refrain from asking any follow up questions - if Natasha wanted you to know more she would tell you.

Instead, you ask: "Did they manage to catch the next flight out?"

She nods. "I'm honestly surprised they did, considering how expensive it probably would've been. But knowing Maria, she probably would've pulled some strings to make it work."

Natasha finally looks up from her phone as you come to a stop, looking at the building you had just parked in front of.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment, I figured we could drop off your bags and you can freshen up before I show you around." You open the door for Natasha before moving to grab her bags from the trunk.

You lead her inside, setting her bags down in the living room before turning around to face Natasha - holding your arms out as you gesture to your living space. It's the first time she's ever stepped foot into this place, having only seen it through a phone screen since you were the one who would fly out to visit her when you were still together.

"I'll grab you some towels so you can freshen up, but make yourself at home." You say, gesturing for her to follow you down a hallway. "The bathroom is the first door to your left, there should be a spare toothbrush under the sink- wait did I give to my cousin? Well, we can grab you one while we're out but everything you need should be here."

You know you're rambling but you don't stop in fear of saying something stupid (which knowing you, is highly likely).

"If you want to take a nap, the guest room is just a little further down the hall on the right - I just changed the sheets so everything should be fresh."

It's not the way you wanted to be showing Natasha around your home for the first time, but you'll take what you can get. It'd be so easy to waltz back to the way things were, before everything fell apart but you didn't have the right to that anymore. You weren't a part of her life anymore.

You didn't know if she already had someone new in her life, maybe you were overstepping in so many ways and that it was best to just keep your distance. After all, you did promise that you just wanted to help. You were here to keep her company until the girls arrived and take her to the hotel when they finally did get here.

You know it's for the better to just move on, that after today she'll be gone and it'll be like she never made a reappearance in your life. But how could you when you know deep down that you still haven't fully moved on and that she'll always hold your heart in her hands?

Natasha's voice cuts off your reverie, bringing you back to the present as you hand her the towels.

"Give me an hour to shower and rest my feet for a bit, I wanna go out and explore while we wait."

-x-

"Do you see that one over there? That's a hammerhead shark! They're one of the most powerful sharks in the ocean."

Natasha hears the little girl gasp, watching their eyes going wide with wonder. She can't help the small laugh that escapes when she sees the young girl lean closer towards the glass before loudly whispering, "is it going to eat us?"

You laugh softly, and Natasha can't help but think that she's missed hearing the sound of your laugh, something she thought she wouldn’t hear again. It comforts her slightly to know that it hasn't changed after all these years, and that she can still easily recognise the sound as being yours only.

"It won't eat us! Sharks don't eat humans," she hears you explain. "They're more interested in fish and seals, than they are humans. But they are really strong swimmers, and they can smell things from miles away - even in water!"

She'd been watching you answer questions about sharks for the past 5 minutes, after a curious little girl ran up to while you were looking at the shark tank and asked if you knew what type of shark was swimming in front of the glass.

"Do sharks talk to each other?"

"They don't talk like we do, but they do communicate by using their bodies and how they move through the water. Some sharks even make sounds by rubbing their teeth together, kind of like a secret language that only they can hear."

It doesn't take long for the girl's mother to find the three of you, sighing in relief as she sees her daughter, looking up at you apologetically.

"Sorry, she's probably been asking you a million questions."

You give the woman a friendly smile and shake your head. "It was nothing, I loved answering all of her questions." You tell her. "It looks like you might have a future marine biologist on your hands."

"Let's leave the lovely ladies to enjoy the rest of their date, bubba."

"Oh- it's not-"

"We're not-"

The mother and daughter are already walking off before either of you could finish your sentences, leaving you and Natasha standing in front of the shark exhibit with red cheeks and thundering heartbeats.

Natasha catches your eyes as you glance at her in a shy glance, and she knows it's too late. The warmth that passes through her as you smile, the same warm and knowing smile that you used to give her when everything was still okay was almost enough to bring her down to her knees.

You interrupt before her thoughts can spiral any further, clearing your throat before gesturing with your head the direction of the next exhibit.

"Shall we keep going?"

-x-

Natasha sits across from you at a small café by the beach. You mention to her that it was your secret place, one that you go to when you wanted time to slow down and just have a moment to catch your breath. After the little incident at the aquarium, you guys decided it was best to just sit and people watch for the time being to avoid any more awkward interactions.

The warmth emanating from the cup of coffee did little to chase away the little chills that ran down her spine every time Natasha caught you gaze lingering on her for longer than you must've realised.

She told you about the plans that she and the girls had made for their vacation while you filled her in on your own life, telling her about your cousin that had just recently come to visit you just before Christmas.

"I'm glad you chose to come with me." You admit after a pause in conversation, voice soft. She turns to look at you, your eyes meeting hers with such an intensity it made her breath get caught in her throat. "I missed getting to talk to you like this."

She can tell that you spoke without thinking, the widening of your eyes giving you away. You look away, muttering a quiet "sorry" before lifting your drink to your lips in an attempt to hide the flush of your cheeks.

She was supposed to be over you. She'd told herself time and time again that she had moved on, but seeing you again, and being here with you, she couldn't deny that she was still in love with you. Having you so close yet so unreachable leaves an ache in her chest.

Throughout the time you two had been sat at the café, she watched you with fondness at the way your eyes lit up while you spoke with excitement in your voice about the things you and your cousin had gotten up to in the week they were with you; Natasha realises that she missed you too - and the comfort that you brought her just by simply being near.

"Nat? You okay?" The worry in your voice only deepens the ache in her heart.

"Yeah, no, sorry - I'm okay." She answers with a shaky nod, breathing deeply. She allows herself to feel her emotions, knowing that it would only do harm if she tried to deny herself this moment with you.

"I missed you too."

The sadness settles deep within her chest, the way you looked so shocked at her words - and she wonders if you were expecting her dismiss your words.

Her phone pings loudly from where it was placed on the table, the text tone sounding off four times in a row as her screen lights up between the two of you.

Natasha!! We've landed :D - Wanda

Sestra, we're on our way to the hotel now, tell lover girl to drop you off now - Yelena

Hi Nat, sorry again - we'll be there in 30 minutes! - Kate

I'll check us in if we make it to the hotel first, Nat, just let us know when you're there - Maria

You both watch as each text pops up on her phone, knowing that your time together was coming to an end.

Natasha watches as you ponder for a moment - wondering if you were going to add on to your words from before now that she's admitted that she missed you too. For a second it does seem like you're about to say something, but instead you just shake your head slightly to yourself, clearing your throat and as you look away, flagging down a waiter to pay for the meal you shared.

"We should probably get going if we want to get to the hotel at the same time as them."

She allows herself a moment to watch as you gather everything, absentmindedly listening to you talk about leaving now so we don't hit traffic - though I guess it's fair to make them wait, considering they made you wait like 10 hours, that's a practically a whole day wasted where you guys could've been sightseeing!

Natasha knows your putting on a brave front - she can see it in your eyes as you gather your wallet and keys, but she begrudgingly gets up after you pay for the bill, walking back with you to your car.

Already dreading the moment she has to say goodbye.

-x-

"Well, I guess this is where I leave you."

Pulling up at the front of the hotel, you catch a glance of Yelena, Kate and Wanda through the window. Even though you couldn't see her, you knew Maria wouldn't be too far away. Probably checking everyone in, you assumed as you parked your car near the entrance.

You do your best to avoid looking at Natasha, taking your time in getting out and grabbing her bags from the trunk, knowing this could very well be the last time you see her again. The thought alone breaks your heart all over again - you can recall all the times you've begged the universe to let your paths cross once more. Now that your wish has been granted and you're preparing to say goodbye to her once again, you deeply feel the loss of her from your life before it's even happened.

She's already watching you as you close the trunk. You hope that she can't see the tears that have been slowly building up since you started the drive to the hotel. You refuse to let yourself hope that the look in her eyes could mean anything order than gratitude.

"Thank you, Y/N, for today." She tells you softly.

"It's was nothing, Nat," you say with a smile, before softly adding, "you're welcome and I hope you guys have a Merry Christmas."

Getting lost in the silence that falls between you; you miss the way she's looking at you as you stare down at your shoes, waiting for her to grab her things and go so you can drive back to your apartment and sulk for the rest of the week. You wonder if she can see the way your hands are shaking as you wait for the inevitable goodbye.

"Y/N?"

You hum in response, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you decided to use actual words.

"I had a really good time today."

You tilt your head in curiosity. You've had a hard time all day trying to gauge if Natasha was having enjoying herself or not. There's no doubt in your mind that she would've said something if she wasn't.

"And it got me thinking," she continues. "I don't know- maybe I'm reading into everything wrong, and you can absolutely say no. You'll probably say no, because this is crazy, but I had to say something before I lose my mind-"

"Nat." You interrupt. As endearing as it was to hear her ramble on, to see her getting more and more flustered as she kept talking, you knew she'd work herself up before she every got to what she actually wanted to say.

"Breathe, love."

You nod encouragingly after she takes a deep breath, giving her time to gather her thoughts.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be so wrong, you know?" She starts. "To try again."

You try to hide the shock that you feel, but can't stop the way your eyes widen ever so slightly at her words. Never in a million years did you expect her to even say yes to spending the day with you, let alone suggest giving your relationship another go.

Does she mean just a friendship or an actual relationship?

Is she just saying that because of today?

What if she realises she doesn't actually mean that later on?

What if this was just a joke and she was just waiting for you to say yes so she can go "aha! I was just kidding as if I'd be serious."?

What if-

"We're different people now, don't you think?"

Confused but curious to know what else you had to say, she nods. "I'd say we are."

"We're older than we were before." You add. "We know a lot more about ourselves now, I'm not the scared kid I used to be."

You're scared of making the same mistakes you did all those years ago. But you also know that you're more than willing to learn from those mistakes; to stay and communicate to make things work instead of running away at the first sign of trouble. Because if there's anything you want more in the world, it's to make this work with her.

But just as much as you are scared, you can't help but be excited. Excited and honoured to learn more about this new Natasha, and fall in love with her all over again. You can't wait to find out what stayed the same, and what changed about her. Whatever she was willing to share with you, you'd gladly take.

"I could love you properly this time."

She gasps softly, and your heart pounds at the prospect of already scaring her away.

The thought of her friends seeing this happening through the window of the hotel briefly crosses your mind - you wonder if they'd approve of you making a return to Natasha's life or if they'll make you work for it after the way things ended between you two.

But she smiles, stepping into your personal space to wrap her arms around your neck and all thoughts leave your mind. The only thing you can focus on is Natasha pulling you closer so her words are only for your ears and your ears only to hear.

"I could love you properly this time too."

-----

@sadonism

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #black widow imagine #avengers x readers #marvel imagine #myfics.txt #i am going through it once again folks #this is probably gonna get shadow banned bc i haven't posted in so long but oh well

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11cupids-tarot11 · 8 months ago

Text

What would they say to you through text right now?

18+ Only Minors DNI!

1 -> 2

3 -> 4

DM me for private readings!

$5.55 per question!

Tips appreciated!

C@sh app and P@ypal payments only!

Cash tag- $minnieplant3

Love y'all!

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

Pile 1-

"I need to figure myself out."

"Don't treat me the way you do, I don't deserve it."

"I can't talk to you right now."

"I don't want to be who I used to be. You deserve better."

"I love your breasts."

"I want to watch you pleasure yourself."

"I want to play between your thighs."

"I want to feel you."

"I really want to fill you up, so bad right now."

"Do you remember me?"

"I love you."

Don't forget to do the poll below! Take care<3

Pile 2-

"The way I have treated you was wrong."

"I am stuck in visions of us together."

"I'm obsessed with you."

"Don't wait for me please."

"I'm afraid to lose you."

"I love how you give in to me, even when you're mad."

"I want to finger you while I'm filling you up at the same time."

"Treat you like my princess again."

"You shouldn't have to wait for me to grow up, you don't deserve that."

"I'll sit alone everyday and reflect on myself until I'm ready to love you like you should be."

"Don't hide from me."

"Don't let anyone else see what's mine, even in separation your heart only beats for me, right?"

Don't forget to do the poll below! Take care<3

Pile 3-

"The heat between us is intense.x

"Will this ever change?"

"Emotions overwhelm me."

"The passion is too much."

"I can't let go of you."

"I want to watch you ride me."

"Your ass is so cute."

"I want to watch your ass while you ride me."

"I really can't stop thinking about your ass."

(lmao?😭)

"I want to live between your thighs."

"I love watching the faces you make while I fuck you."

"I want to see my cum all over you."

"I need to see how you look beneath me, how you feel, I need you."

Don't forget to do the poll below, take care!

Pile 4-

"My life is a mess right now."

"Please do what is best for your heart."

"I am scared of rejection."

"Why do I feel so lost?"

"I really want a home with you."

"you're my future."

"I want to provide you with everything you need or want."

"I want to watch you orgasm after orgasm."

"You'll be my queen in bed. I'll spoil you sweetheart."

"You'll always come first, I care about you so much."

Don't forget to do the poll below! Take care <3

I forgot to add pile 4 🙈 comment '4' down below instead! 🩷

#18+ tarot #pac love reading #pac tarot #pick a card #spirituality #tarot cards #tarot #tarot reading #tarot love reading #tarot messages

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humlors · 5 months ago

Note

Wait which billford fics pspspspsps

gotta say, it feels just a little surreal and silly to make a billford fic rec list in the year of our lord 2024, but hell yeah sure

There's an Endless Road by @agentquinn is one of those fics I reread like. at least once a year at this point. Post-canon, human!bill (absolute trash gremlin, as he should be), roadtrip with Bill, Stan and Ford. Cannot understate how much of a comfort fic this is to me. Do yourself a favor and read it

Also by Quinn, State of Dreaming is very much as the description of "One of Us AU, sort of". I remember for real gasping when figuring out what was going on. It's dark, it's just the right flavor of a bit surreal, it's fantastic

In All My Dreams I Drown (also by Quinn, I swear I've read fics from different authors) is a Pirates of the Caribbean AU with Bill as Calypso, Ford as Davy Jones that kickstarted me and @swiftboone talking non stop about this AU for months on end back in the day. Here's a masterpost of the AU of all of the wonderful peeps contributing to it!

While not really a billford fic, if you're on the Bill canon backstory high rn, please please PLEASE read Flat Dreams by @pengychan. It's an absolute masterpiece that very much made me weep reading back in the day. 100% one of those fics I want everyone who's into GF to have read at least once.

If you're not intimidated by long (LONG) fics, I slavishly followed Knowing Me, Knowing You by @f-imaginings back when. On surface, a typical 'bill gets trapped in a human body pre-betrayal' fic, but holy damn does it go places. equal parts rom com with an ABBA theme, equally character study/exploration with some great sci fi stuff

for something shorter, this fic by @marypsue is 100% one of my fave AU concepts of 'bill losing his own powers to make Ford a demon instead, making himself human in the process'. It's so good, bill being his usual trash baby self while coming to terms with the whole "being powerless" thing.

Anyway, these are the one's I can come up with from the top of my head! I've still got a whole heap of GF/billford fic recs under my fic rec tag, so that's another place to go searching! (and what the hell, shameless self promo of my own old fics lmao)

happy hunting for those fics my friend!!

#billford #gravity falls #the book of bill #gf spoilers #mine #if it's not clear i always leaned to liking fics w more human(oid) bill in them!#there's so much fantastic stuff on ao3 with his more angular self so i encourage u to look further if thats what ur after #i might update this post if i wake up in a cold sweat realising i forgot a vital fic lol #bill cipher #stanford pines

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addicted-to-dc · 8 months ago

Text

Jekyll/Hyde - Taskforce 141 x Reader

Okay, didn't like the first fic I wrote so here's this one instead lmao. Still figuring out team dynamics... but I can't wait to explore moreeee.

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this. Thank you!!! @greeniegreengreen @aeilani @poetslastdeath (Thanks for the writing prompt!! Imma go crazier with it soon)

Content Warnings: Typical CoD violence, ptsd, reader is going to be unhinged (even more so in the next chapters).

“She’s not a good fit.” You were waiting for the line; another iteration of the same denial you’ve encountered everywhere you go. “It’s all solo work, can she even work with a team?”

Your throat burns at the statement. Despite the stabbing pain with each demeaning sentence, you can’t help but continue eavesdropping. Your file has lies written on nearly every page, all the ‘solo missions’ redacted and sealed so tightly even you couldn’t read them.

“John.”

Laswell is too kind to you, too stubborn, somehow seeing right through your heavily defended psyche. Playing matchmaker with the 141 is a mistake. These men don’t need you. You’re disposable, belonging nowhere yet everywhere. They already have a psychotic on the team, the position has been filled since the damned taskforce was created.

“Ignore the files, look at her.” The fucking PowerPoint. It’s like you’re a mutt she’s trying to adopt off. As if a photo of you would convince them to accept. You’re a liability. It won’t be long until you’re sent off on another suicide mission, doomed to survive and repeat the process over again. Laswell sighs. “She’s never been assigned a solo mission.”

“Lone survivor?” Says a new voice. The Scottish accent tells you it’s one of the sergeants, Mr. Mohawk. “Sounds familiar, eh, Ghost?”

There’s no response, a barely discernable grunt takes the place of an answer. Then this ‘Ghost’ speaks: “Jekyll and Hyde?”

“She’s a completely different person on the field. Jekyll specializes in intelligence, sabotage, and infiltration. A screw loose, yes, but Hyde…” You don’t belong here. They know it. You know it. It seems like Laswell is the only one out of the loop, but you will never doubt her stubbornness. Your stomach drops. “Hyde is unstoppable. She flips that switch… you have a wildcard that will turn the tide.”

Maybe you should just leave. Maybe you should take up Graves’ offer. He’d gladly take you, but you’re not sure what’s holding you back from finally pulling the trigger… you should really work on your wording.

“She’s survived alone for so long; she needs a team that can survive WITH her.”

You eye the window, admiring the view of the forested area that claims most of the land. This building is commercial, an office building repurposed for government use… and it seems they forgot to lock the window. It slides open with ease, and the 2-story drop is nothing. You’ve fallen from deadlier heights.

“JEKYLL!” You don’t bother turning around, Laswell’s voice ushering you to make a break for it into the forest.

Turning around, you salute them, sarcastically of course, and bolt into the forest as the group rips their own window open. Serves them right for talking shit when you can clearly hear everything. Your eyes flick around, spotting a sturdy enough tree to climb up. The forest is old, old enough to be your perfect personal playground. It’s been a while since you’ve been in one. It screams “HOME!” in your brain, but you shove that thought down. That home is across the world, your claim etched into the tops of the trees.

It’s not difficult to climb into a spot, it’s nearly as easy as breathing. The ambience of the forest is enough to take away the pain in your chest, the wind grounding you with its bite. Sighing, you slump against the bark and look upwards. The clouds look extra poofy today. A great contrast against the bright blue sky.

You close your eyes. It’s as if you’re there, survival being the only goal in your mind. Nothing weighing you down…

“Jekyll!”

You look down, disappointed that they found you already. War never changes and peace never lasts, including your own. Captain John Price glowers at you from below. You’re starting to feel a bit better, especially since this perspective is too damn hilarious. What a little, angry dude.

Ignoring the man, you slowly move from branch to branch. Running won’t solve anything, they chased you for a reason. Laswell did this on purpose. The revelation makes you freeze. Scowling, you whip around to face the men. “Look, I don’t appreciate Laswell meddling with my shit either, but mention anything about my teams again and I’ll cut your fucking tongues out.”

“Fair.”

Your eyes flick to Ghost, the darkest thing in the forest. It’s almost as if darkness clings to him. You could easily disappear, this forest is vast, yes, but it would be a walk in the park to a nearby town compared to your previous unsavory experiences. You know this, but it seems Ghost knows too. He’s tense, watching you closely for any tells. It’s funny, you’re doing the same thing. Great minds think alike.

“How’d you like the PowerPoint?” you lean against a branch, scratching a scar on your chin. “Was it the maroon or grey themed one?”

Silence, but then an answer from one of the sergeants, Mr. Mohawk. “Grey.”

You frown, allowing yourself to swing to a lower branch. “Funny, she said she changed it. Liar.”

“Laswell a liar?”

“All of you are liars,” you immediately throw back, sizing up all the men. “To others… to yourselves.”

“And you’re not a liar?” The other sergeant asks. Curious man, a seeker of truth. His determination is difficult to ignore, a sense of justice that could rival yours. Good. There’s not many left in this world. He shall henceforth be Sunshine.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Lies kill in our line of business, even the small ones, Sergeant. Not my weapon of choice. Now, are you rejecting me or not?”

“No.”

Now that’s interesting. You descend a few more branches. “Why?”

“The PowerPoint.”

You scoff, landing softly onto the forest floor. It takes only a few steps to close the distance. Hesitance invades your mind. This group will be different. You’ll just have to place your trust in Laswell and her mysterious ways. “Next mission?”

“Not much to go on, we’re waiting on Laswell for intel.”

Nodding, you glance at the team. “You going to bother introducing yourselves? Don’t bother, big boy, I already know who you are.”

Ghost looks like a challenge, very throwable. Maybe you’ll get a chance in the field. The Sergeants exchange glances. Aren’t they cute.

“Too late, you’re Mr. Mohawk and Sunshine now,” you state, adjusting your vest and walking away. “Give me 24 hours, Price.”

And with that, you leave the men alone to focus on your favorite task… digging for intel.

“Jekyll.”

You halt in your steps, turning around. “Yes, Captain?”

He steps forward. “You’re 141, we work as a team. You haven’t lost us yet.”

The pain returns, the ringing in your ears reaching a crescendo despite the forest’s calming aura. Blood, so much blood, gasps for breath and- Your jaw tightens, any more pressure and you’re sure you’ll shatter them. “Conference room 2.”

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

Thanks for reading! I really want to you (the reader lol) to pitch in and decide where to go! I think a little choose your own adventure would be cool. I'll start it up within the next chapter or two. I'm so exciteddd to write again. I hope my writing muscles aren't too decayed XD

If anyone has suggestions, do not hesitate to comment! I need more unhinged mutuals on here pls

#taskforce 141 x reader #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader

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judasofsuburbia · 2 years ago

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So you’re looking to write some smut but feeling stuck, uninspired, or unsure where to start. Smut writing comes easily to some and not others, and that’s okay! Here are some tips I’ve gathered over my few years of writing smut to take with a grain of salt! It's my opinion; you can always do what you want!! <333

It’s fiction writing at the end of the day. So, it’s okay if you haven’t experienced what you’re writing about or maybe you have experienced it but you find it difficult to put it into words. I’ve never fought a creature from the Upside Down but I’ve written about it because that’s what fiction writing IS!! You’re creating a story from your own experiences/thoughts/emotions and applying it to a made-up scenario. So don’t feel discouraged by your own personal journey, anyone can write smut!!

When in doubt, plan it out. When I’m really stuck, just simply grabbing a piece of notebook paper and writing out each event in a sequence, even in the most basic terms, can make things so much easier. For example: making out, blow job, hand job, prep, fuck. Write down positions (sometimes limbs can get lost in the sauce and it is so hard to figure out how they’re actually doing it lmao). Write down settings. Write down if one person is leading it more than the other or if they switch off. Write down desperation levels (personally, I think it’s more fun when desperation is very high but casual fluffy smut is fun too!!) This will help the writing process feel a lot less daunting.

More specifically, remember that prep is important. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been taken out of a smutty fic because they get to the main act (penetration, typically) way before someone should be ready to. Fingers, mouths, and lube (actual lube or something that can be safely used as lube. Blood is not lube. Blood is not lube as it is a liquid that dries quickly and offers no moisture so it will not help you penetrate anything, as hot as it would be.) Foreplay and prep can be a really good tool to establish a sexy dynamic between your characters and get the reader ramped up to read through to the end!

If you feel like the action part is getting too technical, this is where you can add in thoughts and emotions that will give your smut some personality. It can feel very silly to write, for instance, your character A thinking “Wow character B is so hot” but it’s a thought that would probably cross their mind!! Write out any nerves the characters are feeling or maybe even the confidence they’re feeling. Write out what sensations they pay attention to. Write out what they like and dislike. Write out what actions cause an immediate response from them (moaning, bucking their hips, groaning, eyes rolling, etc.) Write out how your character would verbally respond (Are they dirty talking? Are they praising? Are they degrading? Are they stuttering through their words? Are they incoherent because the sex is so good?) It’s important that your characters still feel natural and not like sex robots. Unless your story is about sex robots, then go off!!!

The thesaurus is your fucking FRIEND!! Smut can feel ridiculously repetitive, especially if you’ve written it before. I say every time I write a blow job scene that “god blow job scene is blow job scene is blow job scene” because that’s how it FEELS! Use your resources like the thesaurus or there are a million posts with other ways to say “said”, ways to describe a kiss, etc. Just be careful that you don’t fall into using words that seem unnatural to the flow of the story (for example, a lot of synonyms for cock are simply…unsettling and can take your reader out of the story). Find ways to creatively tell the same action again and again which leads to tip #5…

Go read some smut. The tag “porn what plot” is so unbelievably helpful. Even if the writing isn’t exactly your style or your preference, sometimes reading someone else’s descriptions of sexual acts can be helpful if you’re lost! I have a few faves that I go back to read to get inspiration and I have notes about what it is specifically I enjoyed about their work. While you’re at it, if a fic inspires you and you feel comfortable doing so, leave a comment! It’ll make the author’s day, I promise.

TAKE THIS TIP WITH AN ABSOLUTE GRAIN OF SALT but…go watch it. Or my personal preference, go listen to it. If I’m really lost, I’ll seek out audio porn that follows the same ~vibe~ of whatever I’m writing. There are many websites for this but Soundgasm is my go-to (it’s a free upload site so there are THOUSANDS of sounds and varying quality levels so it might take a second to find what you’re looking for)! Even a sexy playlist on Spotify can put you into a good headspace for writing. Just make sure you’re being safe and looking out for your own comfort levels. Never put yourself in a situation to experience something triggering for the sake of writing a good story.

All of this to say, it is so different to write smut than it is to write a regular plot. It can feel incredibly daunting to go about it and find the perfect balance between technical actions and thoughts/feelings/dialogue and then make it all cohesive in the end. It’s hard to do but it’s not impossible!

#i hope this is helpful in some way!!#writing #writing tips #fanfiction writing #smut #smut writing #fanfiction #archive of our own #writing tools #writing reference #references #reference

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sprinkler-ashes · 1 year ago

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gold rush // aaron hotchner x reader

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

description: in which aaron hotchner hates social media – unless it’s yours. inspired by gold rush by taylor swift.

words: 2.2k

warnings: hotch is down bad, curse words, a bit of pining and jealousy

a/n: i love the idea of the bau being active on social media + hotch having no idea what any online terms mean lmao anyways i just really like this little fic. happy reading!!

i don’t like slow motion, double vision in rose blush

i don't like that falling feels like flying ‘til the bone crush

everybody wants you

but i don’t like a gold rush

Aaron Hotchner is not a fan of social media.

Maybe it’s because of his job. He knows that posting too much information online could sometimes lead to bad situations because there are always people lurking – it’s impossible to know who, exactly, is watching online. Or maybe it’s because he simply didn’t grow up with it. It didn’t really matter – he just knows he does not like using it.

Penelope had shown him quite a bit of Twitter after several BAU cases started trending while the cases were actively going on, even somehow agreeing to let her set him up an account. Aaron didn’t really want an account, but it was almost impossible to say no to Penelope Garcia who Aaron genuinely liked a lot.

Facebook was another one that he had. He didn’t even have a profile picture and only harbored a small amount of friends – entirely family. The site was strictly used to keep up with Jessica since she was an avid Facebook user. If he couldn’t get a hold of her through her phone, he would send her a message on Facebook’s messaging platform, Messenger. She typically responded that way.

The last social media account Aaron had was a new one. Or, well, new-ish. It had just been created a little over a month ago. He didn’t want the account, but Penelope wasn’t the one who asked him to get an account that time.

It was you. And saying no to you was even harder than saying no to Penelope.

A group photo was taken at Rossi’s last month during a get-together after finishing a case. Penelope went straight to Instagram to post it, tagging everyone except Aaron who wasn’t shy to say he didn’t have an account. He was the only one – even Rossi had made an account.

“You’re not on Instagram?” You’d asked Aaron only moments after that.

He shook his head. “I don’t really use social media.”

You frowned like you were in deep thought before turning to him again with a smile. “We should change that.”

All it took was a good minute, maybe even less than that, and one of your signature smiles to convince him to let you help him create an Instagram profile.

He accumulated a small amount of followers since then, which he had to approve, of course, as Aaron made sure his account was set to private – mainly family, some friends, and the team. However, that was as far as it went. He was still figuring out the app, but completely forgot about his new account due to his busy life.

Except for now.

It’s a slow Friday at work – mainly just a day spent catching up on paperwork – and Aaron never really complains on days like this. Yes, it’s usually boring, but having a day without a case means he actually gets to see his son at the end of the day, so it’s a win for him.

But a slow day creates boredom, especially when he’s actually ahead on paperwork. Aaron can’t recall the last time he was this bored at work – probably because he usually has something to do – but when his eyes ghost over the time on his expensive watch, he has to resist letting out a sigh of agitation because, somehow, there are still four more hours left in the workday.

Aaron puts the pen he’s holding down and moves the file he’s in the process of reviewing. He grabs his phone from one of the drawers in his desk and turns it on. The lock screen, which is his favorite photo of Jack, lights up before he enters his passcode.

He does errand-like things at first, including responding to a couple of texts, checking his personal email, and even spending a minute, or five, on Twitter, not that he would ever admit that to Penelope.

Eyeing the colorful app with a white outline of a camera, he hesitantly opens Instagram, still not really used to it considering it’s been over a month since the last time he was on it. He waits a second for it to load up until a photo appears on his feed from JJ, who posted a picture of Henry and Will before she left for work.

jj_jareau: My two favorite guys <3

Aaron knows that the symbol on the end of her caption is supposed to represent a heart because you often send the same symbol in the BAU group chat. He’s not sure why you never use actual emoticons – he’s never asked you – but he associates the symbol with you.

Not that he’s associating hearts with you specifically. Or overanalyzing all your texts in the group chat. Of course not, it’s just because you use it often. That’s all.

When Aaron tries to scroll, he accidentally presses on your username that was showing up in the preview of the comments, sending him straight to your own Instagram page.

He’s about to click the back arrow above your profile picture that he’s assuming will take him back to his feed, but Aaron can’t stop himself from glancing over your profile. Your page is filled with photos from moments in your life that go back years.

Looking up from his phone, he can see you from his chair as the blinds in his office are currently open. You’re chatting with Spencer who’s sitting across from you, a smile on your face as you continuously glance from him and back over to your computer screen where you’re typing, making sure Spencer knows you’re still listening to whatever bizarre fact he’s probably ranting about.

Aaron looks back down to his phone. He’s never been on your page, nor have your posts ever shown up on his feed during the rare times he’s actively gone on the app. It almost feels too personal – like he’s not supposed to see the side of you he doesn’t work with.

He carefully presses on the last post you made. It’s a post from only one day ago, but you’re not in any of the seven photos you’ve posted, which makes him frown with a tinge of disappointment.

Your caption reads, September photo dump, with a couple emoticons.

Wondering what the hell a photo dump is, Aaron looks through the set of pictures again. Everything is random. They range from a sunset to a picture of a meal you must’ve eaten at some point during the month of September, which just passed, and even one of Emily’s cat.

He scrolls down to the next post from three days ago. This time, you’ve only posted one picture and luckily for him, you’re actually in it.

You’re sitting at a dinner table, head resting gently on your hand with a sweet smile while your other hand is gently holding a glass of what – Aaron brings the phone closer to his face without knowing he can actually just zoom in – appears to be champagne.

It only takes him a few seconds after admiring how you look in the photo to wonder about who’s on the other side of it.

Aaron doesn’t know who took the photo and is getting to see you smile like that, but he does know that he wishes it was him because you’re just so damn pretty.

The man is pretty sure he would quite literally melt down to the ground if you looked at him like that.

He’s attempting to push these thoughts to the back of his head as he prepares to scroll to the next post. Aaron is well aware of the fact he shouldn’t be thinking about you in any way that isn’t strictly platonic. He is your boss and even aside from that, the two of you are not only co-workers, but friends.

Friends, he reminds himself. That’s all.

But as he scrolls to the next post, every thought of friendship leaves his body.

It’s a photo taken with the flash on from exactly a week ago, last Friday night, of you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope in what appears to be a club that Aaron can’t say recognizes. You’re standing on the end, your arm snaked around Emily’s waist with your body turned towards the camera while mid-laugh.

The black dress you’re wearing hugs every inch of your body perfectly – you’re showing more skin in the photo than Aaron has ever seen out of you. He’s seen you dressed up before – even seen you in person at clubs himself – but nothing like this before. Ever.

Much needed girls’ night out, your caption says.

Aaron’s not even sure he’s still breathing when he swipes to the second, and last, picture in the post.

This time, it’s only you. You’re still in the same dress, looking at the camera with a sultry smile. You’re not in the club this time. Aaron can’t tell where you are, but that doesn’t really matter because you’re looking straight at the camera with one of the most attractive looks he’s ever seen – it almost feels like you’re looking directly at him.

prentiss_emily: Baddest bitch in the bureau

yourusername: @ emily_prentiss Only behind you ofc

Though he knows she means it in an endearing way, Aaron doesn’t want to call you a bitch, but Emily’s comment on your post technically isn’t a lie. Unfortunately, he also can't seem to figure out what "ofc" means.

A part of him feels guilty. He knows he can’t have you, yet he’s going through your Instagram right now imagining a thousand what-if scenarios, a tinge of jealousy running through his veins at the idea of you ever looking at anyone the way you’re looking at the camera in your photos.

Aaron spends so much time trying to convince himself he doesn’t feel the way he does for you because there are so many reasons why he shouldn’t have the feelings he does. He can’t think of a scenario where you can be his nor can he think of a world in which you feel the same.

So, after he looks at this photo for another couple of seconds, he’s finally going to close out the app and forget about the way you look in that dress.

He can’t get the chance to do that because the door to his office is opening abruptly, startling him to the point where he drops his phone onto his desk.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, hands fumbling to lock his phone so your Instagram will go away.

There you are, mouth open to say something until you notice him fumbling with his phone.

A sheepish look appears on your face. “Sorry, I forgot to knock.”

“It’s fine,” he says, hoping his voice is even and doesn’t scream: Hello, I just looked through your Instagram. “What do you need?” He lays his phone down – it’s finally locked – and looks up at you, trying to appear like he was actually doing something.

“Oh, I don’t need anything. Reid and I are going to try that new place that just opened up down the street for lunch. I was wondering if you wanted me to grab you something.”

“Do you have a menu?” He asks.

“Yeah, give me a second. I’ll text it to you,” you tell him.

You’re pulling your phone out of the pocket of your pants and if Aaron had been paying attention and not pretending like he was working, he would’ve seen the way you glanced up at him, back to your phone, then back to him, a giddy smile on your face.

You do as you told him you would and send him the menu. “Take your time looking over it. Just text me what you want within the next fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks. I’ll look over it in a minute.”

Aaron really does go back to work this time, his hands moving to pick up the file he moved earlier. He hears the door open and assumes you’re on your way out of the door, but you don’t leave yet.

“Oh! Before I go,” you say, your body out the door and your hand lingering on the outside knob of his office door. He looks up at you, pen in hand. “Thanks for the like on Instagram.”

Aaron thinks his heart has stopped upon hearing those words. Before he can even say anything, you shut the door, and you’re making your way back to where Spencer is still sitting.

He swallows hard, closes the file, and sets it away once again. His fingers frantically type in his passcode, and Instagram immediately pops up, still open from when he tried to turn his phone off.

To Aaron’s horror, he sees the Instagram heart that’s used to like photos filled with red and seemingly glaring at him. It was too late to unlike it now. You’d obviously already gotten the notification.

Meanwhile, as Aaron is mentally panicking, you’re whipping out your phone again to send another text. This time to Emily who is currently in a meeting.

I will never doubt you again – Operation post-a-thirst-trap worked!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n

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agendabymooner · 1 year ago

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the paddock’s resident it girl ! toto w. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

summary: everyone’s obsessed with the cool girl of the formula one community, and it’s safe to say that her husband’s team is obsessed with her too. OR tilly wolff, the ceo of hearth automotive groups (owner of almost all of mercedes’ rival teams), returns to the paddock months after the last appearance of the wolff family in baku.

content warning: social media au, ofc in love with toto (frfr), established relationship and family, mentions of alex turner x ofc and arctic monkeys (song lyric reference), brief use of explicit language, jokes about age (beekeeping)

note: yes, it is a whole universe. and will I make a timeline/guide/navigation that will help people understand this universe better? yes. enjoy xx

masterlist

tagged mercedesamgf1

liked by lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc

mercedesamgf1 it’s ok, we forgave you when you brought adelmo along :)

user1 BEE. KEEPING. AGE. 🐝

user2 if i was his wife, i’d be taking photos of him too 😭

user3 this is the closest thing that tilly and toto have to an alone time and you know what i’ll take it

georgerussell63 this really shows favouritism, tils. liked by tillywolff

tillywolff yes well this is the only chance i have to play favourites inside the paddock

charles_leclerc i agree with the beekeeping age comments 🙈

user4 LMAO CHARLES

user5 toto just took away your brownie points, congrats. now figure out how to get his blessings.

user6 what’re the chances of him getting out of the next wolff dinner party alive?

maxverstappen1 user6 pretty slim.

user6 maxverstappen1 stop making me feel delulu as is 😭 this parasocial relationship shit isn’t for me

lewishamilton you should have asked me to watch the kids instead of ogling over my boss 😉 liked by tillywolff

tillywolff and you should just keep your mouth shut 🤐

user7 i would ogle over your boss too so don’t pick on her like that 🤓

tagged tillywolff, hearthautomotivegroups

liked by mickschumacher, steviemarlz, lewishamilton

lewishamilton that’s my best friend!! liked by mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1 INDEED LEWIS!!!

user1 “our favourite ceo of hearth automotive groups” like it isn’t just tilly who controls the company 😭

user2 toto needs his own instagram account if he wants to continue to shitpost about our resident it girl like this

user3 whoever posted this is getting a bonus, i can feel it

user4 she’s such a milfffff ughhh

user5 right?? like you’re telling ME? that she just gave birth six months ago?

user6 my favourite part of the weekend is when tilly would show up to the paddock, dressed to the nines with her kids in tow and having to bark at the paparazzi about hounding her cubs 🫶

user7 she’s so mother and i love it

redbullracing that looks like our boss 🤨

scuderiaferrari that looks like ours too 😶

mclarenf1 no because that looks like our boss too 🫣

mercedesamgf1 no, not really. she’s our boss’ wife :)

user8 mercedes answering our wishes by posting photos of OUR WIFE? scuderiaferrari do you do requests too bc i wanna talk about your strategies…

user9 pfT HAHAHAHAHA THATS VILE

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hanckocks-dagger · 6 months ago

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oh, the night's so blue

masterlist

John hancock x f!reader

Description: After a drunken one night stand with your boss and mayor, you'd planned on hiding out in your room for several months. Those plans get delayed when Nate, general of the Minutemen and your childhood friend, asks you to join him on a quest in the west of the Commonwealth.

Tags: Drunken one night stand, Hancock is a pining simp, and a slut. Reader is not SoSu, has afab characteristics and is referred to with she/her pronouns through the story. No y/n

Warnings: Smut! Drunk sex, consentual but I'll throw in the dubcon tag anyway, talk of violence, guns and drugs a lá Fallout ofc

Word count: 6.1K

Notes: So this is a one-shot that sort of feeds into an idea I've had in my head for a while, of a reader that knew Nate from before the bombs, who either ended up in Vault 111 as well or something similar, but got out about a year before Nate did. This might end up turning into a series of semi-connected one-shots or I might just cut it off here, but I definitely have some other ideas for this story rolling around in my head. More story focused than some of my other fics, delving a bit more into what actually living in the game's story would be like, but of course a hefty dose of our lovely Hancock. But I really like Nate, and I didn't want to make the reader the Sole Survivor so we could see the two of them interact. Also my Nate build is usually high charisma, high strength and low intelligence (idiot savant perk ofc), so he's a bit of a himbo <3 my fav type of man.

Also just a small and totally irrelevant thing, but I headcanon Nate/the sole survivor as choosing not to smoke, just because the player isn’t able to smoke in the game. Just a fun tidbit I threw in there. Also, I’m a smoker and I have friends who aren’t and the relentless back and forth teasing is always fun. They all vape anyway, so it’s just a race for who gets cancer first lmao.

Cross posted on my ao3!

"What's the status on the top shelf stuff?" You yelled out from the back room, wiping drops of sweat from your forehead before they could drop into your eyes. Sure, the new beer tap was ingenious, making the closest thing to actual fresh beer since you'd come out on this side of the cryo-chamber, but goddamn were the canisters heavy.

"Almost out of moonshine, luv," Charlie called from the bar, tinny cockney accent carrying through the open space.

That was fine, you could drop by and speak to Vadim tomorrow before opening, as long as Hancock could supply the caps and lend you some help to carry the bottles back.

"Anything else?" You grunted, heaving a full canister back out to the front, bending down to connect the pipes.

"I think you should start carrying some Fireball, I know how much you used to like it," A new voice spoke up from the other side of the bar, startling you into banging your head on the underside of the bartop. You cursed, shooting to your feet, finding a ginning, familiar face on the other side.

"Nate!"

He said your name back with the same amount of enthusiasm, slouched in one of the barstools, familiar bright blue vault suit looking a little worse for wear.

"When did you get in? How did you get in?" You asked, eyes flitting about. Sure enough, there in the background, spread over one of the couches was mayor Hancock, speaking with a smiling Magnolia and a broody looking MacReady.

"Just landed in town, figured I'd come say hi before crashing at the Rexford."

"Well, shit," You breathed, wiping your sweaty hands on a dishrag, "Can I get you a drink? I want to hear about this oh-so-secret mission you were on."

"Sure, I'll take a beer."

You fished over a clean-ish looking glass, gave it a quick wipe for good measure, and poured. The movements were practiced, muscle memory from a lifetime ago taking over as you tilted the glass, filled it, flicked the spout the other way for some top foam. You slid it over the bar, accepting Nate’s smile as payment.

You grabbed yourself a glass, calling out to Charlie as you filled the glass with ice, “I’m calling it a night, just leave me a list of whatever needs to be done in the morning.

You poured yourself some of the top shelf stuff, nothing good by pre-war standards, but nowadays it was rare and mostly didn't taste like it was 200 years old.

You stepped around the bar, planning on planting yourself on a stool next to Nate, but he was already rising to his feet, heading for the rest of the group.Hiding your awkwardness, you trailed after him. You knew MacReady tangentially, sometimes bringing him drinks into the backroom, keeping an eye out for disagreements and sometimes running up to get Ham when things were getting out of hand. Magnolia was your coworker of course, and there was plenty to talk about after long shifts, but she was– technically speaking– about twenty years your senior, and married to her job in a way you weren't.

Then there was Mayor Hancock. A charming flirt at the best of times, happy to stand up for you on the job, as the owner of the bar, after all, but there was always something about him you never managed to crack, never straying away from genial small talk. Small talk, of course, these days, meant discussing the last Super Mutant raid, or let him rattle off about his favorite chems. As you approached, he tipped his hat at you and you responded with a little curtsy, using your free hand to tug on your apron like a skirt.

You fell onto the couch beside Nate, stirring your drink with a finger, using your other hand to untie the apron around your waist. Being off your feet felt good. There were no clocks in the Third Rail, and no windows, so your sense of time tended to get a bit skewed, but seeing as Ham usually tossed out the stragglers by 5 am and you'd had a mess and a half to clean up, you assumed it must be closing in on dawn. A rough 12 hour shift made your liquor feel earned, as you sipped at it, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

"So," You said, catching Nate's attention before he could get sucked into the others' conversation, "What was the notorious General of the Minutemen up to this week? Liberating some more settlements?"

"Mmm, actually doing some work for the Railroad," His tone went hushed, unnecessary and strangely endearing, as everyone in the bar knew and was at least non-committal about their activities.

"Ahh," You replied, matching his tone. "Did it go well?"

"It went fantastically. I brought my own team in," He motioned with his beer toward Hancock and MacCready, "But we ended up getting some help from another agent, too. And, man, what a lady," he went a bit starry eyed, making you laugh.

"Got a little crush, Nathaniel?"

He snorted, and you spotted the tinge of red in his cheeks with glee.

"Nothing like that, but what a powerhouse. You should have seen her, mowing them down with a minigun."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nate, I've seen you in Power Armor before. Unstoppable force and all that."

Ever humble, Nate's cheeks turned rosier, and he glanced down at his drink. You watched his Adam's apple bob, the shy smile that graced his features.

To put him out of his misery, you turned to the group at large, "So, does this mean you've returned our beloved mayor back, or are you heading out again?"

Hancock's attention snapped up from MacReady so he could grin at you, "What, you missed me doll?"

"Well, you do sign my paychecks," You smiled back at him, then remembered, "Oh, yeah, speaking of, I have to go over to Diamond City tomorrow to get more of Bobrov's best, maybe I can steal Nate to help me ferry it all back."

He hummed, "What d'ya say, brother? 100 caps to keep my favorite employee safe?"

From behind the bar, Charlie gave his best impression of a grunt, "I resent that, mayor!"

"'M sorry, Charlie, you just don't have her charm."

"Or her tits," Magnolia chimed in, twirling an unlit cigarette in her fingers as she smirked at you.

You flushed, eyes flitting around, finally landing on Hancock and MacReady's empty glasses, "Refills, boys?"

"Thought you'd clocked out," MacReady said, even as he handed over his glass. "Well, I'm the club's ambassador even after hours, gotta keep the reputation up."

"You best not be giving free drinks to every sorry brother that walks in here," Hancock called after you as you stepped behind the bar.

"Mm, no," You sing-songed back, "Only my favorites."

The night passed easily. You stayed by Nate’s sidelistening to him tell tales of the people he'd been meeting, the farm he recruited for the minutemen last week. He didn't delve too far into this last mission, always the good soldier who followed orders. You spent about twenty minutes trying to guess his secret Railroad code name.

"Mmmm, buttercup."

"Not even close."

"Sugar bomb?"

The look of offense he gave you was so scathing it had you spitting out half your beer over the table, doubled over in laughter as he complained.

"It relates to my prowess as an agent, not some pre-war pet name!"

"Fine, fine, uhhhh. Striker? Shadow? Tank?"

"Honestly, these are terrible. Never open a baby naming business."

"Uhm, excuse you," You said, taking a sip of beer to try and reduce the heat in your cheeks, "I would make excellent raider names. Chainsaw, evil-eye, uhhhhh," You cast your eyes around, searching for inspiration, "Ricky."

"Ricky?" MacReady asked, eyebrows knit in confusion, "What's wrong with Ricky?"

"Dunno," You shrugged, "Doesn't he just sound like an asshole?" You put on an air, repeated 'Ricky' in an ominous voice, which got MacReady and Nate to crack up again.

Magnolia vanished up to the surface after a bit of flirting with Hancock, insisting on her beauty sleep. As was your usual, you whistled after her, calling lewd, joking comments as she walked up the steps. As was her usual, she gave you a scowl and the middle finger.

"Ehhh, I'll get her to crack one of these days," You murmured into your beer, that tipsy, never ending giddy smile stuck on your lips. You caught Hancock's eye where he sat, now alone on the couch, spread eagle with his gangly limbs. When he spotted you, he gave you a grin, cigarette in his teeth.

Suddenly you desperately wanted a smoke. You patted your own pockets, found that you'd left them at home. You cursed the you from the morning for whatever logic had made that choice, suddenly desperate for nicotine.

Your head, resting against the back of the couch, lolled to look over at Nate. Who, of course, didn't and had never smoked. Goody-two-shoes.

So, you clambered to your feet, ignoring the ache that made itself apparent, and collapsed over besides Hancock.

"Does the good mayor have some cigarettes to share?" You asked, hand on his knee, leaning in close to be heard over a playful argument MacReady and Nate had started.

Hancock's smile got wider somehow, those deep dark eyes crinkling at the corner, giving the appearance of crow's feet.

"For you? Always." He dug around in the deep pocket's of that crazy coat, pulling out a cigarette case. Instead of handing you one, though, he plucked the one from his mouth and stuck it into yours.

Brain slowed by a long shift and plenty of alcohol, it took a moment for the action to catch up with, fingers rising slowly to pluck at the cigarette. You blinked at him, but he seemed unphased, pulling out another cigarette from his case and lighting it.

You leant back in the couch as your brain caught up on his move, staring blankly at a gesturing Nate, MacReady equally engrossed, somehow having missed the interaction that now had your brain reeling. Hancock's arm was stretched out behind you, tantalizingly close, fingers almost tickling the hairs at the back of you neck. You felt the chill of goosebumps, shook off the urge to shiver.

You puffed at the cigarette instead, slowly sinking back in the couch, reverting back to the sort of talk you were used to with the mayor, "How'd you like the trip? Nice to get out of the city?"

Hancock took it in stride, as he did everything, "Oh, yeah. Makes you forget what's out there, staying too long in these walls."

You hummed your assent. You stuck to Goodneighbor because you wanted to stay alive. The furthest you'd ventured in the last year was scoping out that brewery for the Rexford. But Hancock was a ghoul, and even so was more careless with safety than anyone else you knew. Getting out of the city, with only yourself and the stars as company... it was a romantic idea.

"So, what, we're gonna become the Railroad's home base now?" You teased,

"Not exactly," Hancock replied, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette, "But Nate knows his shit, and he trusts them. They're doing good, dontcha think?"

You considered this, rolling it around in your liquor soaked brain, "I guess it depends on whether you think the synths are just robots or... y'know, slaves being put through just as much pain as we are."

Hancock nodded, eyes trained on you, expression curious. For all his flirting, Hancock was easily one of the more respectable men you'd met, always willing to listen, even if he was usually a bit too out of his mind to interpret it. He was whip-smart, too, when he was sober enough to put a thought together.

"I suppose it depends on if you believe in the soul. Do you, Mayor Hancock?" Some deep-seated, long ago buried urge reared his head. You remembered being a kid, sitting in a diner with high-school friends, batting your eyelashes at a crush of yours, a coy smile on your face, trying for a sultry voice and missing it by a mile. But now you were about two hundred years older, and had a few years of experience under your back.

So when you looked at Hancock through lidded eyes, purposely hollowed your cheek as you sucked on your cigarette, the one that had been in his mouth before yours, you could appreciate his reaction. The widening of his eyes, the way the hand behind your head seemed to move just a bit closer, the minute shift of his hips as his body turned further towards you.

"I think I'm a bit too sober for those kinds of questions," He snickered. Being a Ghoul made determining age difficult, but sometimes you were sure Hancock was young, younger than you even, the way he carried himself, the carelessness of a teenager.

You smiled back, soft, put your cigarette out in an ashtray on the table, picking up your glass instead.

Hancock said your name, sultry, and that hand finally brushed your shoulder, a gentle, teasing touch.

You answered with a smile, a tilted, " John," followed by a sip from your drink, one you concentrated all your effort into drinking as normally as you could. If you let your tongue slide over your lips to catch the lingering taste, well, no one had to know.

"You know," You said, voice hushed as if you were revealing a great secret, "I feel like I don't know you well enough. You haven't been around enough since you hired me."

"I knew I left the bar in good hands," As if to prove his point, his fingers teased over your bare forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Maybe, I should- ah- give you a tour of the Old State House sometime."

The innuendo was painfully obvious, accompanied by a lecherous wink, but you felt your face flush anyway, ridiculously charmed by his brazenness.

Charlie ended up kicking the four of you out, insisting on sweeping before the sun came up. On the way up the stairs, conspicuously a few steps behind Nate and MacReady, the two of you got a bit too handsy, after you'd spent the last couple of minutes petting the velvet of his coat, hypnotized by the luxurious softness of the ancient costume, as Hancock rattled off history facts about Boston, some of which you'd half remembered from history class.

"Found the old fucker's diary in a closet on the second floor," He'd said, as your fingers traced down his arms, across his chest, barely disguised fascination. You wanted to steal his hat, tuck it onto your hair, flick it the way Hancock often did.

"That old bastard was– was kinkier than you could ever imagine," His voice stuttered as your fingers traced near his navel, studying the stitching on the waistcoats he wore.

"Oh yeah?" You snickered, loose enough with drinks to lose your impulse control chasing after whatever felt good in the moment. Mostly that had been cigarettes, but now it was the idea of kissing him, of feeling that mouth on you, anywhere.

"The mayor of Goodneighbor," You breathed, smoothing out his collar, "Keeping himself busy with five hundred year old porn."

Hancock laughed with you.

Outside, the two of you stumbled apart, leaning against the brick wall to share a cigarette, Nate and MacReady somehow still talking, even if Nate was shooting you curious glances and MacReady smirked every time your eyes passed over him.

Eventually, though, when a too loud sentence awoke a grumbling drifted who threatened to hurl a bottle at Nate, it was time to call it a night.

Nate clapped Hancock on the shoulder and kissed your cheek, which got him a punch on the arm, a bit harder than you meant to with the alcohol in your system. He took it like a champ, of course, calling out, "Have fun!" As he rounded the corner towards the Rexford.

MacReady vanished with a tip of his cap, leaving you with smoke in your mouth and the morning sun in your eyes.

"You want to take that tour now, doll?" The brush of a teasing hand over your lower back.

You thought about your dusty apartment, of waking up in a few hours to repeat the same shift for the millionth time. A cold bed, empty.

"Yeah," You breathed, hand catching on the fluttering sash around Hancock's waist, setting a firm pace and tugging him along with you like a dog on his leash. His hands found your hips before you even made it to the door, pinning you against the old wood to kiss you, deep and warm and wet. Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, till you stood hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest.

Somehow, one of you got the door open, falling through the door, walking each other in an embrace towards the staircase. The kiss deepened, Hancock licked into your mouth as you bumped into the banister, struggled to keep your balance.You let him lead, pushing you backwards up the stairs, hands always gentle, ready to catch you if you tripped.

It was a drunken fumble, your shirt rucked up, trying to get all his stupid buttons unbuttoned as you staggered to the stairs, his lips suddenly attached to your neck.

His hands moved to your exposed waist as you reached the second floor, greedy hands moving over the expanse of skin. You huffed against his mouth, finding it unfair as you struggled to even get under his ridiculous fucking shirt, finally managing to sneak a hand under it, nails gently scratching against rough skin. You weren't exactly versed in Ghoul anatomy, but you'd heard enough complaining from drifters at the bar about the lack of feeling in their skin to know you'd have to push a little deeper, press a little harder. Sure enough, as Hancock lead you stumbling towards his bedroom, you pushed your hand up to his chest, pressing down into the meat of one of his shoulders, you received a deep groan against your mouth.

Then suddenly you were in the Mayor's bedroom. Clean enough, by the wasteland standards. Strewn with chems, as you'd anticipated, but the bed looked as clean as you could be.

Hancock had ended up behind you, hands sneaking around to your ass, your collar pushed to the side so he could kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder. It felt... nice. Soft. Softer than you'd anticipated from him. It sent an ache through you, not to your core, though electricity tingled, desperate for attention you hadn't provided it with in years. The ache was in your heart, extending out to your lungs, stealing your breath the way his kisses had, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

You spun around in his arms to capture his lips again, nipping at his bottom lips, hands moving to his waist, sneaking down into his waistband. The two of you danced around the room, lips locked, hands moving as clothes were unbuttoned, tossed to the side, shoes pulled off.

Then you were naked, falling onto a surprisingly plush mattress, as Hancock dropped his coat onto the back of his desk chair, pants unbuttoned and half falling off his skinny hips. He left the hat on, even as he stripped everything else off, and it made you huff a quiet, airy giggle. He grinned back at you, always happy to be happy, as he crawled on top of you, bracketing you between his legs.

His dick was the same as the rest of him, scarred and pocked, but you found you didn't mind in the slightest as your hands wandered downwards, teasingly gentle touches running over him, drawing out airy breaths and groans.

You were quick to guide him into you, pulling him down for a kiss when he entered you, sending shocks of burning pain through you, uncomfortable but manageable. Still, he noticed, unfocused eyes blinking down at you, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," You breathed, even through the tension of your muscles, "Just– uh– been a while. Gimme a moment."

He seemed unsure for a moment, looking as if he wanted to pull out, but you forced a calm through your muscles, slowly feeling him inch his way further inside, until the two of you were hip to hip. You breathed through the sting, shutting your eyes and guiding his face to your neck, happy when he got the hint and nipped at your skin. Your breath got shaky when he found a perfect spit by the junction of your neck and your shoulder, feeling his teeth sink into the flesh, soothed quickly with his tongue, with his spit-slick lips.

"Okay," You breathed eventually, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other clutching at the muscle on his back, "You can move."

"Are you–"

"Hancock," You said, voice firm. In a more sober state, his caution would touch you, but you were desperate to feel the drag of him, to feel his hips working. "I'm a big girl, it's okay. You can move."

He bent down to kiss you as he slowly pulled his hips back. With conscious effort to keep your muscles calm, your side of the kiss was a bit half hearted, but you gasped into his mouth as he pushed back in, the stretch not painful but, "So fucking perfect," You breathed, "Just like that."

Hancock was amazingly receptive, somehow cataloging every moan and twitch, and he had you pushed into the mattress within minutes, gasping and shaking beneath him. His hips drove into you at a perfect pace, his mouth moving to your tits, gentle bites at the soft skin, pulling your nipples into his mouth to flick at them with his tongue. Your whispered words of direction quickly dissolving into moans and gasps of his name.

Almost the exact second the thought of your clit popped into your head, his fingers were there, moving tight circles, pressure just the right side of too hard. You arched into him, a moan so loud it would have made you self conscious if you weren't too focused on driving him deeper, getting him closer, getting as much of his skin on you as you could.

Your orgasm approached with mounting tension in your muscled, strangled cries of more, harder, "Please, John."

You came with a strangled cry, every muscle in your body tensing and then going completely limp, gasps of air as your peak faded, replaced by a pleasant buzzing sensations. John's pace slowed as you shook, hands leaving your clit to grab at your hips, pull you towards him as he chased his own release. You were happy to let him, your hands exploring him leisurely, gripping at his biceps, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to guide him into another kiss.

You could tell when he got close, the way his hips jerked, thrusts growing rushed and sloppy, desperate, the way his breath quickened, the way his dark eyes seemed to darken even further. At the last moment, he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his cock, haphazard pace the same as he fucked into his fist, a few more pumps and he came over your stomach. You tensed under the surprising heat of it, but relished the soft groan that escaped his mouth, head tilted back, mouth open,

He half collapsed on top of you, breathing against your mouth, only his arms holding him from falling into you. With every inhale, his expanding chest brushed against your breasts, every touch sending electric shots through you.

He collapsed beside you, still panting, one arm curling around your chest, just under your tits, pulling you into his side. "Just– give me a second, I'll get you something to clean up."

"Mmm," You breathed, relishing the heat of him, positive he was warmer than a normal person, the way it radiated off him, heating your skin at the contact points, "Don't worry about it. Deal with it in the morning." Your words were slurring, eyelids heavy.

"Mmm," Hancock agreed, tucking his face into your shoulder. He held you tight, like little kids held onto teddy bears. It was... nice. Unfamiliar to you, but, as you buried your head into the soft pillow, you supposed it was something you wouldn't mind getting used to.

You woke with a start, unfamiliar footsteps thudding above your head. It took a moment to reorient yourself, to recognize the walls you were blinking at, the hand tucked around your waist, the soft snores in your ear. Your head thudded, your mouth dry as a desert, tasting like cigarettes and whiskey.

"Shit," You whispered, slowly extracting yourself from Hancock's warm arms, getting to your feet. Stark naked. Your pants were slung over a chair, one sock still in the pant leg, the other tossed onto a desk, surrounded by several tins of mentats and empty jet canisters.

"Fuck," You breathed, hopping around trying to get your socks on. One of your boots was on its side, halfway under the bed. Your shirt was hanging on the fucking doorknob and you tugged it on, ignoring the stale smell of sweat and alcohol that clung to it from last night’s shift.

You swept the room, but couldn't for the life of you find your underwear. The thought of leaving them somewhere was mortifying, but when Hancock shifted in the bed, you decided not to risk staying. You pulled your boots on, leaving them unlaced as you crept over the ancient floorboards. Seeing as Hancock was managing to sleep through the ruckus of the drifters on the top floor, you doubted the creak of the house would wake him, but you were still extra cautious as you cracked the bedroom doors open, just enough for you to slip through and rush down the staircase, pointedly not looking at any of the Neighborhood Watch.

Out in the semi-fresh morning air, you took a deep breath, mumbling another curse to yourself as you began a quick jog home, trying to avoid any knowing glances as you rounded a corner and shouldered the door to your apartment building open.

Shower, underwear, find Nate, get him to ask Hancock for the caps while you cowered in the background with sunglasses and a baseball cap over a dark hoodie. Fuck.

The shower was cold, obviously, and you counted your blessings for having running water at all, even if it was a bit too irradiated for comfort. You did your best to scrub fast, hands brushing through sweaty, greasy hair, soaping the necessary areas. You very pointedly did not linger on the dried, flaking cum on your stomach, exorcizing it with a washcloth and curses.

You were busy drying your hair with your dirty shirt, because whenever the water lingered too long it left an uncomfortable sheen over your hair and smelled a bit like a bog. A knock sounded at the door, sending ice through your veins, a response equivalent to the roar of a Deathclaw or the clicking of a Mirelurk.

For a moment, you contemplated crawling onto the rusty fire-escape outside your living room window and walking into downtown Boston to let some Super Mutants eat you.

Instead, though, you stepped over to the door, moments quiet as you contemplated what the fuck you were going to say. Last night was a mistake. You're my boss. I haven't had sex in two years and I'm sorry for leading you on, can I please have my panties back?

Another knock startled you out of your thoughts, fast and panicked, followed by the call of your name from a voice that definitely did not belong to Hancock.

You opened the door to a panting Nate, already back in his suit and armor, gun tossed over his shoulder.

"Nate?"

"Hey! Have fun last night?"

You flushed, even though his expression was nothing but kind; curious and happy for you, like a good friend should be.

"Uh. What's with the get up?" You deflected, which Nate took in stride.

"Distress call from the Minutemen, they asked me to head out west to Graygarden."

"The... farm run by robots?"

"Oh, that's what it is?"

"Wh- Never mind. What are you doing there?"

"Something about the water supply and Super Mutants. I'm leaving in a few minutes"

"Okay, that's fine, I'll drag someone else with me to Diamond City, no stress."

"No, I want you to come with me."

You blinked, hand tensing on the door frame, "Nate I'm not a fighter."

"Yes you are," He said, looking so genuinely confused it made your heart seize a bit, "We fought together. At Anchorage. Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't–" You swallowed.

After returning home, witnessing massacre after massacre, you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't get involved in that kind of shit. Even after the world ended, you'd managed to keep that promise. At night, alone in your cold bed, you could still hear the hissing of sentry bots, the creaking of power armor, the whistling of bullets. "I don't do that anymore, Nate."

Nate pulled one of his more serious faces, a rare sight for a man with seemingly endless drive and relentless optimism, even after losing more than you could imagine.

"Look. I understand what you're feeling–" You took a breath to interrupt him, because his blind patriotism had driven him forward when you'd lagged behind, weighed down by the blood on your hands. Nate pushed forward, "I know you don't believe me, but I really do. And nothing helped me heal those wounds like helping people."

"Helping robots." Your voice was flat.

"Who provide food for over a dozen settlements. You'd be doing good."

You bit your lip, casting your eyes over your apartment to avoid the earnest look in Nate's eyes. Sure, you were... content in your life. Goodneighbor was as safe as any settlement could be, you had steady income, some sort of purpose. But you remembered the day Nate had walked into the Third Rail with Nick Valentine on his heels, bleary eyed, vault suit still pristine. The way your heart had sung, the way an aching loneliness you'd felt since coming off the ice had faded.

Was this what the rest of your life would be? Slinging drinks, small talk with coworkers and bar patrons, waiting for the next time Nate would walk in through the doors like some yearning wife waiting for her husband to return from war?

Besides, you weren't going to be able from Hancock in his own fucking town, not for long.

You shut your eyes, feeling the phantom weight of a gun in your hands.

"Fuck. Fine."

The smile on Nate's face was like a kid's at Christmas.

"Great! I'll meet you at the front entrance in..." He glanced down at his pip-boy, "Thirty minutes?"

"Okay."

And he was off, leaving you standing in your doorway, blinking at nothing wondering what the fuck you'd agreed to.

Under your bed there were some loose floorboards you'd been using to store the important things. Your spare caps, your vault suit and pip-boy, your 10mm pistol and your combat shotgun. The former was familiar to you, used centuries ago in a war no one understood anymore. You'd grabbed it on your stumbling way out of the vault, and it was a good thing to or you would have gotten gored by some very territorial mole rats before even making it to a settlement. The shotgun had been stolen, in your trek to downtown Boston, taken off a raider you'd knocked out with a lead pipe. He'd clearly made some adjustments to it, with a hair trigger, less recoil than expected and a scope you'd never needed to use. You'd been meaning to sell it since you'd gotten in, but it had ended up in the floorboards where you'd simply hoped it would stay unless you were strapped for cash.

A knapsack was quickly filled with everything you needed, a change of clothes, a portable water purifier, all the food that would go to waste if you didn't take it with you. You tucked some spare caps into a hidden inside pocket, wrapping them in cloth to keep them from rattling. Your spare 10mm ammo, a few packs of cigarettes, a lighter, a flashlight.

The pistol was strapped into a thigh holster, a gun belt held your shotgun rounds. The shotgun went around your shoulder. They felt heavier than you remembered them being, their weight an oppressive reminder with every step you took out of your apartment. You'd need to let Charlie know you wouldn't be in for a while, and you'd need to stop by KL-E-0's for some spare parts. Easy enough, it was just the matter of avoiding certain tricorn-hat wearing mayors.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the street. You cut a more imposing figure with your armor, with the glint of weapons. People moved out of your way as you jogged towards the Third Rail, sliding in through the door like a mouse darting into its burrow.

You rattled like a tin can chime as you walked down the steps to the bar, announcing your approach before you could be seen, a cat with a bell. You were skittish, pausing at the last step to peek into the lounge, trying to spot a red coat, a familiar smile. Coast was clear.

"That the new uniform, then?" Charlie's voice nearly sent you flying, a squeak leaving you as the Mr. Handy suddenly appeared in view. The three eyes didn't exactly convey emotion well, but you could hear the dry amusement in his tone, maybe a hint of judgement.

"No, I uh–" You shook yourself, loosening the cotton in your brain, "Nate asked me to accompany him on a mission. Shouldn't take more than a week."

"Seven days and I'll file a missing person's report." Dry, dry, dry.

"Right," You breathed, gripping the banister like a life line, "Right. I appreciate the uh– The thought, Charlie. I'll see you around." Saliva filled your mouth, and you had a second to panic about throwing up on the floor as your stomach rolled, before the feeling faded.

Charlie didn't dignify you with a response, going right back to... whatever it was he did when the bar was closed, so you turned around, rattling right back up the stairs. First vacation in two years.

Again, you kept your head down as you walked through the alley towards Kill or Be Killed, pointedly avoiding letting your gaze slip to the Old State House, like the building itself would summon him. Something burned in your chest, not quite shame, but the next thing to it. In another life, you would've considered chewing on a baby aspirin, kept the landline in view, ready to dial 911, if you were having a heart attack. Now, though, you shrugged it off, grabbing your canteen and taking a greedy drink, washing away the cigarette taste that still lingered in your mouth.

KL-E-0 was in her usual place, piercing red eye landing on you.

"Well, don't you look dressed to kill."

You'd wondered, sometimes, if she had been especially programmed to sound so sultry, or if it was just her natural charm.

"Heading out for a while," You dug your bag of caps out of your pocket, placing it on the table as your eyes roamed over the wares available, "Think you could spare some grenades and shotgun shells?"

"Let's get you outfitted, killer."

The word left a sour taste in your mouth that had nothing to do with the cigarettes. You made it through the trade quickly, enough ammo to last you several encounters, enough grenades to get you through a couple rough spots. You left with your pockets lighter, your bandolier, pack and shoulders weighed down.

"Have fun, baby."

"Yeah, thanks, Kleo."

Nate was standing by the entrance, a respectable distance from the Neighborhood Watch, a focused frown on his face as he fiddled with his Pip-boy. He looked up when you approached, frown turning to a bright smile.

"So," you said, shouldering your gun, "Ready to head off?"

"Not quite, we're still waiting on the rest of the party. You know how he is, always fashionably late."

You didn't manage to get out your confused "Who?" Before a familiar hand was clapping Nate on the shoulder, saying, "So! Ready to get this show on the road?"

Fuck.

Notes: This is so insanely self indulgent it’s crazy, but I do hope you enjoyed at least a little <3

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