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slashbitch2 · 1 year

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blood, betrayal and granola bars PT2

part one Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader W.C: 7.9k Words

The following day you both walked with a renewed energy, snacking on berries that Natalie scavenged and sharing out painkillers from the first aid kit. With the forest sloping downwards, some of the pressure was eased from your aching feet, while the thick snow that invaded your boots thinned out. Still, several times you slipped on the icy surface. Several times Nat laughed at you.

Eventually you reached a river running through the valley, which was flowing beyond its banks, having only recently thawed from the freeze. The water was deeper than usual and moving too fast to swim through. It was the first real obstacle you had encountered on the journey, and yet while Natalie only saw it as something to overcome, you saw opportunity…

“There is no way that’s going to work.” The redhead called down to you. She was sat further away, watching amusedly as you approached the bank. “And if you fall in, I’m not going to save you.”

You grasped securely onto the stick you had found and sharpened with a piece of flint. A rudimentary tool, but one you were proud of assembling. “So, you’ll save me from a bomb but not a river?"

“Not when that river is a series of freezing cold rapids.”

Upstream there was a rock jutting out, impeding the water around it. You decided to head towards it. “Haven’t you ever been to a theme park? The river rapid rides are always the best!” You called back to her.

“Actually, no.”

Momentarily distracted from the task at hand, you turned back to Nat, mouth agape. “You’ve been in America long enough to develop an accent, but not to go to a theme park?”

She shook her head. “In case you haven’t noticed, I live a rather busy life.”

“What? Does SHIELD not give you paid holiday?” Throughout the duration of your time together, you hadn’t really acknowledged each other’s opposing profession, let alone bring it up in conversation.

But it didn’t seem to deter Nat. “And HYDRA does?”

“Actually…” Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away from her, raising the sharpened stick above your head. “Paid days off and health insurance. It’s not a bad deal.”

“In return for what? Committing countless assassinations, orchestrating the great conflicts of the world…”

“That’s not all that different from SHIELD.”

She huffed and paused for a second before speaking. “Maybe not. But as you said, at least SHIELD wasn’t founded on Nazi ideology.”

“Please, HYDRA came from SHIELD. It’s been there from the start- Besides, it’s not like we idealise that side of history.”

“Anymore.”

You glanced back at Natalie and saw the gleam in her eyes. You took a breath, shaking off the mild irritation that had risen within you during the debate, and focused back on your hunt.

A flash of silver swam by, disturbing the riverbed around it. The water clouded for a few seconds as you scanned the space for another glimpse of the fish, then threw the makeshift spear. Nothing. You could already picture Nat saying, “I told you so.”

You bent down to retrieve the spear before it was carried away by the current, the edge of your clothes getting soaked in the process. You shivered, clenching your jaw and trying to ignore the chill that suffused across your entire body.

Another splash of water, you threw the spear again. This time, instead of dirt from the riverbed clouding the water, red liquid did. You pulled the wooden stick out from the river, seeing a fish lodged on the sharp end of it.

“Told you so.” You said smugly,

Natalie was already looking at you, a mix of surprise and impressed. An inexplicable heat rose to your cheeks. Beyond just feeling proud of yourself, you found you enjoyed the way she gazed at you. If you were to ignore the circumstances, the continuous pain inflicting some part of your body and the general state of exhaustion, you couldn’t help but admit that you were enjoying your time with her.

Part of you longed to voice this thought. But instead, you opted to say, “I think it’s your turn to light a fire.”

Unfortunately, your clothes didn’t dry off until the end of the day. You had found a shallower section of the river to cross, yet that didn’t stop the bottom half of you to remain soaking wet. Although being at a lower altitude meant the snow had all but melted away, it did nothing to lessen the cold breeze which ate away at your energy, nor stop snow from lightly falling all around you.

The flakes were just beginning to settle on the ground as the sun started to set. By this point, you were ready to collapse quite literally anywhere when Nat pointed off into the distance.

“There!” She exclaimed. As much as you tried to focus in on where she was pointing, all you saw was a mound of rock sticking out of the forest floor. “Cave.”

Stifling a laugh at her inarticulate explanation, you squinted off into the distance yet were unable to see anything. “I know the last couple days have been tiring, but I still expected you to have more eloquence than a caveman…”

She rolled her eyes at you then began marching over.

You trailed after her, mockingly saying, “Cave- ug. Go.”

But for all you mocked her, there was a section of carved out rock, providing the perfect shelter as the sunset clouded over with the promise of more snow. After a quick once over to confirm no other creatures resided inside, you began to set up for the night. On this occasion, you had a fire lit in no time, both huddling round it and sharing out the food you had gathered throughout the day.

The wind howled outside, whistling through the cave entrance. You couldn’t decide whether it was an eerily beautiful, or unsettling sound. The one thing you were certain of, however, was how thankful you were to have come across shelter. Endless light flurries of snow were being carried by gusts of winds, and you knew that despite their weightless appearance, the impact would sting against your skin like knives.

Shaking off that particular idea, you turned back to the fire, eyes scanning over the orange glow which illuminated every crack and crevice of the rock walls. Your gaze then fell to Natalie, who seemed lost in thought. You took the opportunity to trace over the defined lines of her profile, the strands of red hair that had come loose around her face and the mesmerising green of her eyes.

Despite having been surrounded by greenery the last couple days, you were able to admire the depth of their colour anew, as though you had never seen green meadows or fern forests before. And you were certain that should you never see any natural greenery again, the colour of her irises would be sufficient to replace it.

Suddenly, Nat was looking back at you. She licked her lips. Your eyes traced the subtle movement. Usually, holding her attention made you tense, but not in this case. Not when she was looking at you so openly, so hesitant yet curious. She stared at you as though you were a comforting presence amongst all of this. As though she were savouring something inevitable that was growing between you. Something you didn’t dare to name.

You tore your gaze back to the fire and cleared your throat, your mind racing for something to say.

“I’d kill for literally anything other than berries.” You complained, ending the silence between you.

In comparison to the fish that you had caught and cooked earlier, which was anything but gourmet, the berries tasted like flavourless mush.

“Sure, I’ll just get out Uber-Eats and we’ll see what’s available.” Natalie said sarcastically, pulling her knees to her chest.

You noticed she was shivering and couldn’t help but soften at the sight.

“Do you want my jacket?”

Natalie glanced at the sand-coloured jacket you were currently wearing. It had already acquired several stains, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as you hadn’t taken it off once. Except for now, when you slowly slipped it off your shoulders, down your arms and held it out to her.

“What’s the catch?” She asked, suspiciously eyeing up the kind gesture.

You smirked. She already knew you too well.

“Your real name.” You replied simply.

Nat considered the trade for a second, then grabbed the jacket from you and pulled it on. She sat silent for a beat but kept her promise. “It’s Natasha.”

“Natasha?” You repeated. “Wow. Real creative secret alias. I never would’ve guessed.” You couldn’t help but laugh at her, the difference between her real and fake name being so minimal that it hardly mattered.

“Shut up.” Natasha leant back, a grin playing across her lips.

“What about your surname then? You persuaded, eager to use your generous moral high ground to find out as much about the enigmatic SHIELD agent as possible.

“Oh no, now that wasn’t part of the deal.” She raised an eyebrow cockily, though you could tell her words were sincere.

“Why? Is it topic secret knowledge?” You teased. “If you tell me then you’ll have to kill me?”

“Something like that.”

“Well now I’m only more curious.” As much as you wanted to know, something in her resigned posture and pleading expression persuaded you not to push the subject any further. “But save that piece of information for another day. I need some kind of motivation to keep going.”

You stood up, turning your back to Natasha and the fire to retrieve the first aid kit from your backpack. At multiple intervals during the day, you made sure to change the makeshift bandages and plasters covering your body in some attempt at keeping everything hygienic.

“Let me do that.” Natasha offered upon seeing what you were doing.

You looked over at her, surprised to find you weren’t suspicious in the slightest of her intentions. Despite the fact that you ought to be enemies, entirely distrustful of one another, you trusted Natasha with every bone in your body. Over the last couple days, a mix of necessity and basic empathy had sparked an unexpected alliance between the two of you.

No, not alliance. Friendship. Respect. Enjoyment of each other’s company. And you were certain Nat felt it too, and so allowed her to gently take the first aid kit from your hands.

You smiled at her gratefully, aware that your eyes likely conveyed a lot more than just that and sat back down in front of the fire. She crouched down behind you, hands lightly roaming over your combat suit and assessing where the darker stains of blood were. You flinched at the contact, then relaxed into her open palm.

“It’s just the cut on my upper back and the one along my forehead I’ve been treating.” You explained.

“Are you sure? There’s a rather nasty one down here as well.” She poked a finger into your side to prove a point, causing you to jerk away from the sudden sharp pain.

You hissed through your teeth as the pain subsided. “Yep. Gotta ration supplies.” Then tugged down the top of your suit to draw her attention back to the main injury.

“Alright, hold still.” She set to work unwrapping the bandage you had crudely looped round your shoulder and arm. “This part might sting a bit.” She warned, preparing the antiseptic.

You grimaced, assuming she was going to be much more thorough with the treatment than you had been.” Just get it over with.”

Natasha began delicately cleaning the cut, putting more consideration into the work then you had expected.

“You’ve clearly done this before.” You commented as she started rewrapping the bandage in record time.

“And you haven’t?” She stood up to check, or rather admire, how much better the gauze was looking, then moved to sit in front of you and begin work on the gash along your forehead.

“Fair point.” You conceded, averting your gaze anywhere except Natasha. “But still, I’m glad it’s you out here with me.”

You risked a glance back to Nat. She was close. Closer than you had ever been to her before. If you shifted forwards even just an inch, your lips would brush. You could close the gap so easily. You could bring her impossibly closer. You could-

“Is that gratitude I’m hearing?” She smirked. Her voice was low and raspy, her gaze darting all over your face. Beyond the smirk, a newfound hope was etched into her expression, which only softened further as your eyes met, lessening the distance between you even more.

“Maybe.”

Natasha’s smirk only grew as her head titled down slightly. For a second, you thought she might lean in, that she might kiss you… Until her attention turned back to the first aid kit, abruptly ending the building tension between the two of you.

She returned to tending to your injuries, this time the gash along your forehead. “It’s a miracle this didn’t come with a concussion.” She muttered, stroking a finger along the bruised and bleeding skin.

Your lips drew back in a weary smile. You hadn’t thought back on the whole ordeal much- or truly appreciate how lucky you were to even be alive. You had Natasha to thank for that, not that you would ever be able to recognise her efforts. Once these couple days together were over, once you returned back to civilisation and back under HYDRAs radar, the safest thing to do would be to forget any of this ever happened. To forget Natasha, for her own safety.

Your heart sunk at the idea.

“You know, I think I’m entitled to some information about you.” Natasha stated suddenly.

“How come? I thought we had a deal. The jacket for your real name.”

“Yes, and now I’m fixing this mess of your attempt at first aid. I think you owe me.”

You tutted in lieu of shaking your head, trying to stay as still as you could. “I was going to offer rebandaging your shoulder in return.”

“I don’t accept.”

“No?”

“No.” She sat back on her heels. “Tell me something about yourself instead.”

You exhaled, racking your brain for an interesting enough fact about yourself that didn’t compromise your identity. “You’ll have to be more specific… There’s just too many interesting things about me to share in one night.” You joked.

“Too interesting or too top secret?”

“Both.”

“Fine.” Natasha thought for a moment, pursing her lips- which you admittedly were rather fixated on. “Tell me about your childhood.”

Now that was something you were happy to regale her with, and began happily recounting your early life in as much detail as you could remember. Natasha listened with rapt attention, even as she finished her first aid and packed everything up, even as you tended to her shoulder in return, her focus never left you. She laughed at all the right moments, offered comfort at the more difficult points and asked only the right questions.

And then, in the dying embers of the fire, Nat told you about her childhood. The Red Room, her temporary family, her tenure as a Black Widow assassin.

“Your surname.” You were laid down facing her in the fading light of the fire when it clicked. “You’re Natasha Romanov. SHIELD’s infamous Black widow. An Avenger.”

The identity of SHIELD’s most prolific assassin had only come to light recently with HYDRA unveiling their grand plan. As your organisation stepped into the limelight, so had Natasha, subsequently becoming a top priority for elimination. One of your superiors had told you that as long as she lived, so did the public’s support for SHIELD since she represented a link between the beloved Avengers and the secret service that she served.

Across from you, Natasha nodded; the movement almost imperceptible. Her pupils darted uncharacteristically nervously across your face trying to gauge how you would react. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it didn’t. Out here in the middle of nowhere, none of it mattered.

“No.”

She frowned. “Well, it should.”

“Well, it doesn’t.” You snapped, though not unkindly.

Natasha’s past didn’t matter to you. All that mattered was your time together, in which you had grown fond of her. The real her. Not some made up identity or emotionless figure, but her. You were trained well enough to recognise a liar, which she most certainly was not. Nobody would be able to keep up appearances in the circumstances you were under, let alone remain so authentic yet likeable. You had come to accept the unavoidable fact that she was your only motivation, your only solace through this harsh reality.

Even now, in this freezing cold cave in the middle of the Russian wilderness, you were at peace because of her. You shivered, unsure whether it was due to the cold, or the intense feelings you had repressed for so long.

“You’re cold.” Natasha commented, ever observant. She sat up. You realised it was to take off the jacket.

“No, don’t.” You swallowed, summoning up as much bravery as you had left. “Just- come here.” You patted the rock-hard ground next to you, and waited, watched as Natasha sized up the offer.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding when she shuffled over to you. Then found yourself at a loss of breath again when she lay down next to you. There was a moment of stillness, of darkness as the final light from the fire dwindled away. And then an arm stretched round your waist, hand resting at the base of your spine.

Instinctively, you scooted closer, turned so her front was against your back, and settled in the embrace instantly feeling warmer.

The two of you intertwined so perfectly, so comfortably. It felt so natural that you wondered how you had ever slept without her by your side before. Now that was a thought you really couldn’t entertain.

“For body heat.” You explained unnecessarily to the silence, more to convince yourself rather than ease any non-existent awkwardness about the situation.

Natasha hummed in agreement. The vibration sending a pleasant warmth through your own body. It was in this soft embrace that you fully relaxed, comforted by the gentle rise and fall of her chest, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of her breathing, the warm breath fanning across the back of your neck.

It was perfect.

Natasha was the first one to wake up and carefully untangle herself from you. It wasn’t until sunlight started to filter into the cave that you awoke, bringing an end to the privacy of your own little world within the rocky walls. You panicked momentarily upon realising Nat was nowhere to be found, but upon reaching the entrance to the cave, she reappeared with a rejuvenated expression on her face.

“There’s smoke rising in the distance, just beyond that hill.” She pointed to the rather steep incline you had been dreading to face, from which sunlight was only just peaking over the summit. “I think we might be near a settlement.”

Her suggestion filled you with renewed hope, though you were hesitant to show it, too preoccupied by the question of what would happen once you reached civilisation. Despite everything, would Nat turn you over to SHIELD? Would she reveal what she had discovered about your identity? That would almost certainly get you into trouble. Perhaps even put your life at risk.

Or would you go your separate ways pretending to have never met? No- you were certain that was impossible.

“Alright then.” You gazed out at the horizon and preparing yourself for whatever awaited you. “Let’s get moving then.

To your relief, and dismay as much as you tried to deny it, Natasha was right. As you crested the hill, a small village sprawled out on the flats below. It consisted of about fifty houses, one factory with two soot covered chimneys, a handful of fields with some ill looking cows and one road leading in and out. Hardly a luxurious welcome back to civilisation, but what else were you expecting.

Natasha’s pace quickened as you drew nearer, something you really shouldn’t take personally, yet did. Any reasonable person would be relieved that your journey was coming to an end, would be counting themselves lucky to have survived and covered so much distance without any issues. In fact, you yourself were rather looking forward to a change of clothes, a comfortable bed and food that wasn’t foraged or hunted.

It was hypocritical of you to think, but jealousy and insecurity took Natasha’s eagerness as a sign that she was well and truly sick of you. Ready to leave you behind for good.

As you drew near to the outskirts, walking in between the old wooden houses scattered untidily about, a dog came running out to bark at your arrival. It leapt and bounded around you, signifying to all nearby that someone was arriving. You and Natasha walked side by side in silence, feeling the weight of several pairs of eyes tracking your movement. An old man sat on the porch of his house grudgingly and brazenly stared you down, a clear sign that the town didn’t usually see many visitors.

The whole atmosphere was uncomfortable.

“I’m assuming you speak Russian fluently.” You muttered to Nat, clenching your jaw and squaring back your shoulders.

“да.” Was her response, which she then translated as meaning “yes.”

“I gathered that.” You passed yet another resident who looked ready to spit on you, finding the town didn’t become more accommodating the further in you travelled. “Have at it then.” You gestured round the area which appeared to be the main street, although the name hardly did it justice.

There was no formal road or signs naming it, rather a more defined set of tire tracks that marked it as the most frequented street. One of the buildings had a sign labelling it as a grocery store, though was the smallest on the street. You could hardly imagine it would provide much beyond the basics- yet the main problem remained that you had no money on you, nor form of identification or anything.

Nonetheless, it was where Natasha went, and where you wordlessly followed her to.

As predicted, the shop didn’t have much produce to choose from. You browsed aimlessly as Nat spoke to the woman behind the counter, who was the first person not to glower at you. Although you understood some basic Russian, you left the two to talk, occasionally picking up on words you could just about decipher meaning from.

Nat returned to inform you that the woman- Anya- had a room above the shop that she was renting out, and that the town had an ATM located by the factory. Nat had already devised a plan that you would allow Anya to show you round while she went to retrieve cash. You truly had no idea how Nat planned to do so without a credit card, but decided it was best not to question her methods.

“I’ll be back in half an hour at most.” Natasha must have seen the doubt on your face as she informed you before departing.

“Alright.” You swallowed back your hesitancy and nodded, feeling rather strange to be separating from Nat for the first time in days. The urge to reach out and hug her suddenly arose, though you were quick to quell it. You smiled reassuringly instead, watching as she darted out the door and back into the cold Russian air.

“This way, yes?” Anya announced in strong accented English, beckoning for you to follow.

Trying your best to put on a grateful expression, you nodded and accompanied her up a rickety set of stairs to the spare room. Anya did her best to present the property, though the language barrier made it difficult, coupled with the fact you were anxiously glancing out the window every other minute in hopes of catching sight of the redhead returning. Although the spare room was just as she had described. A room. Nothing more, nothing less. One bed, one armchair, one dresser and a view out to the ‘main street.’

The bathroom was downstairs, next to the shop storage room- tad unhygienic- and was hardly an improvement on the amenities over the last few days. Still, you listened attentively and smiled politely as Anya gave her tour. She seemed grateful that someone was finally interested, and you couldn’t help but feel bad about the fact you were only going to rent it for a few days. But with no hotel in town, there were no alternatives.

You and Natasha hadn’t spoken about how this was all going to play out, being too afraid to have hope. Now that it was actually here, you found yourself rather conflicted, unable to plan further ahead than the next five minutes.

Anya ended her tour in the storage room, where you spotted something which sent a thrum of excitement suffusing through your body. A phone. Simply hanging from the wall, available for use at any time. Such a mundane object, and yet it brought you into the present, back to reality with a sudden jolt of realisation. All it would take was typing in the eleven digits, lifting the microphone to your mouth and speaking. But who would you call?

A family member? They would certainly be glad to hear from you, but likely unable to help your current situation.

The Embassy? You would be able to leave Russia more anonymously that way, making HYDRA less likely to question your lacking presence following the destruction of your base.

Or HYDRA themselves? They were the most obvious answer. You were a high ranking official, and they would willingly send aid to your location. You could be back in no time, with little effort beyond corroborating some account of the event. But that would put Natasha in danger.

After all you had been through together, you wouldn’t put her through that.

You at least owed that to her, and crushed the idea as quickly as it had come. You would allow her to disappear first, or for you to go your separate ways before contacting HYDRA.

You heard the door of the shop open, your heart skipping a beat at the sound knowing who it was likely to be.

“Hey.” Natasha grinned at you, her hands clutching literally wads of cash.

“Welcome home, honey.” You joked, watching as Nat placed the money down on the counter. She started counting out the correct amount, Anya’s eyes lighting up as she collected the bills. From what you had picked up from their earlier conversation, she had paid her about a month’s rent. There was no need to give her so much since you wouldn't be staying long, but your chest warmed in recognition of Nat’s considerate nature regardless.

“There’s a tiny restaurant in the middle of town- if you could call it that. The place is basically a shed in some guy’s back garden.” Nat explained. “But I was thinking we could go for dinner.”

“Dinner?” You repeated, face flushing at the connotations.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s a meal you have after lunch, in the evening before bed-“

“Very funny.” You interrupted with a roll of your eyes. “Yes, I would love to go to dinner with you, Miss Romanov.”

“Alright.” Nat smiled to herself, said something to Anya who nodded vehemently, then turned back to you. “But shower first?” She suggested, to which you gasped playfully.

“Not a fan of the Eau de forest?”

She scrunched up her face.

“Fine. I get the hint.”

Showering had never felt so good. Even if the water was cold, and the shower floor was somehow sticky, it was still blissful…

For some extra cash, Anya had provided you with clean clothes from her own wardrobe, which meant you were able to change out of your disgusting, blood soaked, dirt encrusted combat suit and into fresh, clean fabric, which felt amazing. Even if her fashion sense was very traditional, the dress length very conservative, and Natasha finding your appearance highly amusing, you were grateful, nonetheless.

However, to your annoyance, Nat somehow looked perfectly normal in the style. Daresay she made it look good. But you weren’t jealous, instead considering yourself lucky that you were able to admire her at all.

The next couple hours were spent simply doing nothing. After your shower you all but collapsed into the old armchair in the corner of the room, which was so plush and easy to sink into that you had fallen asleep within five minutes. You would’ve preferred to take the bed, but had decided to leave it in case Nat wanted to sleep.

You weren’t sure whether she did or not, as next thing you knew, she was gently shaking you awake. The room had succumbed to darkness, apart from the last vestiges of sunset casting a purple hue through the window. For a brief second, you had no clue as to where you were until your gaze fell upon Natasha.

She was leaning over you, eyes blinking sleepily as she waited for you to jolt back to life. Your initial confusion became inconsequential at the sight of her; so open and vulnerable, so close to you in the fading sunlight. You swelled with pride at earning her trust so easily. It had come so naturally to you, in a way that it never had with anyone else, and in return, you cared for her more than you dared to admit.

“What time is it?” You pushed yourself into a seating position, if only to pull yourself closer to Nat.

“Six-thirty.” She answered. “We both fell asleep.”

You yawned, stretched and reluctantly stood up, ignoring the click of your overworked joints.

“Do you still want to go to dinner?” Nat asked.

You shot her an incredulous look. “Of course. I never pass up the opportunity for some fine Russian cuisine.”

“All naturally sourced, I’m assured. If you’re lucky there might even be buckthorn on the menu.”

You groaned. “If I even think about eating those damn berries ever again, I’ll throw up.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes. On you.”

Nat chuckled, grabbed something on the end of the bed and chucked it over to you.

“This jacket, seriously?” You stared at the sand-coloured item, which was almost brown by this point.

“Returned to you as promised.” She shrugged playfully.

“I’m not sure I want it back anymore.” Regardless, you tugged the jacket over the ridiculously puffy sleeves of the dress Anya had leant you. “How do I look?”

Her gaze swept from head to toe. You couldn’t help but bask in the attention.

“Like you’re ready for a night out on the town.” She concluded, opening the door for you.

The two of you strolled leisurely through the deserted town, both ignoring how each other’s stomachs cried at the promise of proper food. Part of you wanted to run to the restaurant, part of you wanted to savour your remaining time with Nat, and part of you was sensible enough to realise you had no idea where the establishment actually was.

In fact, you would’ve walked right past it if Nat hadn’t directed you inside.

The building was quite literally a wooden shed attached to some guy’s house, promising anything but the finest. The interior was rustic at best, the walls made from spruce logs stacked unevenly, and illuminated by a single string of fairy lights stretched across the square room. There was only space for three tables, with two already having been pushed to the side, and the third sat conveniently next to a space heater.

“Wow. Business is booming. Are you sure we’ll be able to get a table?” You joked, trying to spot the owner of the establishment. It felt like you had walked into someone’s home rather than a public restaurant.

“Give it a chance. It’s charming.”

At her reasoning, you focused on Nat in lieu of judging the place too harshly. You found that anywhere would have been good enough so long as she was there with you. Whether it be an uncomfortable cave, in the elements weathering the cold together, or in a secluded town with no real recognisable restaurant, you were able to appreciate it. Purely because of Natasha Romanoff. The woman who ought to be your enemy, yet you had never brought yourself to hate.

As you sat down on the rickety wooden chair opposite, you saw in her soft expression that she was the same. Neither said it but you both felt it.

Less than a minute after taking a seat, a waiter did emerge. He was perhaps the youngest person you had seen in town so far and spoke no English, but was kind. After leaving you with a handwritten note that was supposed to act as the menu, Nat briefly translated everything he had said. That he ran the place by himself, acting as waiter, cleaner and chef, and that you were the first customers he had seen in weeks besides his parents.

“You’re right. This place is charming.”

“Oh, so you’ve changed your mind now you feel bad?”

“Is that so wrong?” You leant forward on your elbow, trying to peer at the menu which Natasha was hiding behind. “I’m supporting local businesses.”

“How can you be supporting when I’m the one with the cash.” She held the menu out to you. “The wine is imported so it’s all in English.”

You took the sheet of paper from her. “I’ve been meaning to ask; how did you use the ATM without a card?” You skimmed down to the readable section, eyes flittering across the albeit short list of drinks.

“That’s a secret I’m afraid.”

“Of course, it is.”

The waiter returned and promptly took your orders. Not understanding enough Russian to read the menu, you had allowed Natasha to pick something out on your behalf. You weren’t really sure why, considering that in the grand scheme of things she knew nothing about your likes and dislikes, but that hadn’t seemed important at the time.

“I would ask how you are,” you said, denting a silence that hadn’t exactly been awkward, “but I think I already know the answer.”

“Tired.” She answered with a lopsided grin. “But I’m kind of used to it now.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you up too long.”

Natasha didn’t say anything as the bottle of wine arrived in a chilled bucket, surprisingly well presented despite expectations. He poured out two glasses, bowed his head politely and left.

You rested your hand around the glass, studying the light golden colour of the liquid amplified by the warm lighting. In it, you saw sunrises over snowy hills, you saw dwindling firelight reflecting on cave walls, you saw the warmth of Natasha’s auburn hair.

A hand rested faintly atop of yours, fingers steadily seeking permission to intertwine with your own. Slowly, you untangled your grip around the stem of the glass, turned your hand over and felt her palm slide softly against yours. Neither you nor Natasha said anything, content to lose yourself in the humble contact.

After a minute, you glanced up at her, taken aback by the sad, far-away look on her face. You wondered whether it had dawned on her that your time together was running out, whether she was as distraught about that fact as you.

But no, that explanation didn’t suit her. A more fitting label would be regret.

“Hey.” You spoke softly as to draw her attention back in a gentle manner. “What exactly did you order for me?”

She didn’t glance up from your connected hands but smiled. “I thought it was meant to be a surprise.”

“Alright.” You conceded. “I trust you to pick out something good anyway.”

The palpable guilt on her face only worsened. A daunting sickness began to rise up through your chest, evoked by the chilling sensation that something here wasn’t quite right. Nonetheless, you were determined to enjoy yourself, and so persisted with the evening as though a tense suspicion wasn’t present in your mind at all times.

Natasha did eventually seem to snap out of whatever she was feeling, and conversation begun to flow easily between you both. You were able to talk about nothing and everything at the same time: only teasing, light-hearted conversation that you both held onto as if it were the most important thing you had heard in your entire life.

The waiter returned with your dishes about twenty minutes later. You still had no idea exactly what Nat had ordered for you, but it was delicious nonetheless, being the first real food that you had eaten in days. The meal filled a void you had become numb to in all you endured, a newfound energy returning to your body.

Placing down your knife and fork, you looked up at Natasha fondly, admiring her as though it were the last time. Her hair washed and recently dried fell down her shoulders in natural waves of red- almost the same shade as her lips, you noticed. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes appeared darker than usual, though the corners of her mouth quirked up. The cuts and bruises across her face remained, but with less contrast against the pale of her skin, as any mark of that last few days together was gradually fading.

And as they faded, your emotions- your hurt- only grew. For you soon realised what she had done.

The sound of helicopter blades whirling through the crisp night air came into focus, grew closer and closer, louder and louder. You cocked your head to the side an inch to try and pinpoint from which direction they were approaching.

“Here comes the cavalry…” You murmured bitterly.

“Y/N.” Natasha reached out to firmly grab your hand, her grasp no longer tentative. “Don’t run.” She glared at you imploringly. Then added, quieter, “Please.”

You stared back at her, your jaw tightening as you willed any reaction to keep at bay. “Why?” Your eyes shone with betrayal. “Just for SHIELD to capture me? To interrogate and lock me up?”

“That won’t happen.” Despite the certainty of her words, her voice shook. “I won’t let them-“

“Then what?” You interrupted. “They let me go with my identity compromised? HYDRA would have me killed in a heartbeat.”

“Not under SHIELD surveillance. We can protect you.”

“And what kind of life would that be?”

“One with me.”

You paused, your mind going blank.

“It might not be perfect,” She continued. “But I don’t want to leave you just yet.”

You detected a hint of fear in her voice, recognising the toll it had taken on Nat to say what she truly felt. But as much as you felt the same, anger swirled around inside of you like fire, stoked by even the slightest of things. “I didn’t take you as such a selfish person.” You snapped.

You were wasting time, and shot up from your seat, throwing your napkin down onto the table. The building was likely to be imminently surrounded by SHIELD agents, you needed to escape before it was too late.

You surveyed the room, blinking away the tears already welling up. Going out the main entrance would lead you back into the centre of town to be easily trapped, whereas the door the waiter went in and out of would probably take you through his own house. You decided that was the better option, grabbing the jacket from where it was hung over the back of the chair and preparing to run.

Natasha abruptly stood up, tried taking a step towards you, shock and hurt reflected in her gaze.

You had truly upset her and immediately wanted to apologise, but instinctively took a step away from her. “I’m sorry I can’t-“ You tried, but found yourself at a loss for words. “It was nice knowing you, Natasha.” You forced out instead.

Nat opened her mouth to say something. Then closed it again.

So, you turned on your heels and ran. Her betrayal weighed heavily on your heart, but you refused to let it slow you down.

You burst through the backdoor, shoving past the waiter who was returning to collect your empty plates. He grunted at the impact, but you just carried on through the back garden and into his house, trailing snowy footprints along his carpet you. The helicopter above only grew louder, and out the windows you saw shadowy figures drawing nearer, surrounding the house. You had no weapons on you, and the long dress didn’t allow for much movement, but under no circumstances could you allow yourself to be captured.

You walked briskly through the living room and into the kitchen, stopping as you spotted a knife gleaming on the countertop. Deeming it sharp enough, you grabbed it, plunged it into the hemline of your dress and roughly dragged the blade along the fabric. You heard a terrible tearing sound and continued to frantically pull at the cut section until you had ripped all the way around.

The door you had entered through slammed open once more. “Y/N!” It was Natasha. Your heart sunk down into your stomach.

You would’ve preferred an armed SHIELD operative…

Without a second thought, you dashed out the side door, where nothing but an expanse of snow-covered fields awaited. A horrible sense of Deja-vu surfaced in your mind as you realised you were practically going to relive the last couple days of traversing the Russian wilderness, only this time alone and without any supplies or real weapon.

“FREEZE!” Like an answer to your unvoiced prayers, the first SHIELD agent arrived on the scene. He was young, fresh faced and inexperienced, but aiming a gun square at your chest.

You ducked, heard a bullet fire, then rammed straight into the man and slammed him into the ground. His gun flew out of his hand, skidding across the icy surface. You ungracefully launched yourself over the weapon, grabbed it and stood up.

Under the cover of darkness, you aimed it at the soldier, breathing heavily as he looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

“Go.” You spat, gestured for him to run and watched as he hauled himself up.

He glanced at you fearfully, then turned and sprinted back in the direction of town. You summarised this was most likely where the main group would be waiting to ambush, and instead looked out in the opposite direction for where to aim for. About half a mile away was a gathering of trees. With the helicopter still hovering somewhere above, you would need the covering of the forest to truly disappear.

“Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, tried desperately to ignore the desire to turn and face her. You knew it would only slow you down, and perhaps that was what she intended to happen. You knew Natasha Romanov would be your downfall… And yet, you still spared a glance back.

Natasha was stood in the doorway of the house, the light from behind casting her shadow onto the sheet of snow. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked like this; studying you so intensely, her face carrying such raw emotion that you could hardly stand to see her this way. Guilt. Loss. Shock. Hope. Screw your entitled sense of betrayal- you wanted to wipe the weight of what she had done from her conscience.

You threw down the gun, crossing the distance between the two of you in a span of three seconds. She stepped down to meet you, arms wrapping around your waist as your hands grasped hold of her face. You pulled her in, lips crashing together as she leant into you. Her lips were chapped but warm, fervently pressed against you as though the need for oxygen had entirely dissipated.

Natasha kissed you urgently, held onto you desperately, hopelessly. Yet in her embrace, everything else faded away to become inconsequential. Her arms tightened around your waist as your lips parted, a plea not to let go. You took in a shuddering breath, rested your forehead against hers and kept your eyes closed, content just to be with her.

For the first time since meeting Natasha Romanoff, you felt you fully understood her. This wasn’t some ploy to make you change your mind or distract you long enough for SHIELD to catch up, nor was it even a goodbye. This was her assurance that someday things would be different, that your story wasn’t over.

That someday you would meet again and finally get it right.

You opened your eyes, finding Natasha’s still to be closed. Reluctantly, you removed your hands from her face, kissing her cheek so that she would just look at you one last time.

And with that, you separated, keeping your gaze fixed on her for as long as possible.

Natasha swallowed her grief. “I’ll distract them.” She nodded, then smiled at you sadly. “Now run.”

Too grateful for words to convey, and too distraught to even try, you bent down to grab the gun before sprinting into the cold Russian night. Your lungs burned; your body ached with each step as you dashed for cover amongst the trees. Your heart was thudding in your chest- as though it wanted to escape and fly back to Natasha, to whom it now belonged.

You reached the forest, an inescapable sense of familiarity dousing you in cold disappointment. Thorny bushes scratched at your exposed legs, mud splashing up your calves. You skidded to a halt in a ditch, crouching down to catch your breath momentarily. You knew you would need to run further to truly disappear from SHIELD, but with the light dusting of snow leaving an easily trackable path, you would need to throw them off the trail first.

Hands patted down your form, looking for something to leave behind somewhere to mislead them. A loose thread of fabric from where you had torn the dress, a strand of your own hair, anything… Feeling something solid in the jacket pocket, you reached in, fingers brushing against plastic.

You frowned and pulled out the mystery object.

An unconscious smile stretched across your lips as the neon green wrapper of a granola bar fell into your open palm; left behind, half eaten by Nat. You turned the inane trinket over in your hand, feeling strangely nostalgic for not so long ago when something caught your eye.

Barely visible in the dim light was a note scribbled on the inside of the packet. The writing was smudged and almost illegible in the small blank space, but your trembling hands unfolded it with the upmost caution.

If you don’t hate me for what I did. Flat no.4, 34 Peterdy St, Budapest- NR

You exhaled deeply, leant back on your heels, and stared up at the night sky.

Natasha had known you would run, already having prepared a second chance: this one you wouldn’t miss. And you certainly didn’t hate her for it. In fact, the brief enigmatic note set your heart soaring, as in that moment, you knew your journey with Natasha Romanoff was only just beginning.

next >

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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bleedingichorhearts · 8 months

Text

𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 IV

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Whew! Got a lil’ steamy- I mean, carried away. Yes, carried away.

𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: If you are under the age of 18. Shoo! Go away! Skedaddle! Why you reading this in the first place? Be responsible for/of yourself.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams (Forgive, I’m not helping you. :) )

TW // Cursing, Smut/NSFW, Filthy, Yandere theme?

This…This wasn’t supposed to happen.

I couldn’t have imagined myself in the bath with my Astartes. Never would I have thought that he’d indulge in such things, much less with an human.

Didn’t they have female Astartes or something? Surely they do? How else could they increase their numbers?

“Ah- F*ck!” I cried out, desperately trying to hold onto something as the Alpha Legion in front of me thrusted in, and out. A slurred coo spilling from his lips.

All I wanted was to take a bath after a particularly hard day. There was a lot more Astartes in town than usual. Streams were being a little noisy, and demanding. So I’d figure I’d reward myself with a little bubble bath. Not expecting Hydra, to join me in it.

At first, it was somewhat casual as Hydra stood on the side watching. Sometimes mumbling in his own language at me that I have yet to understand. Then, he started to take off his armor that I have properly cleaned for him, dropping them to the side of the bathroom wall. I was surprised the tile didn’t crack.

A blush painted my cheeks as I looked away from the undressing Astartes. Not willing to get caught looking at his bare form while the water moved around me as he simply tucked himself in behind me.

A light rumble leaving him as I refused to look at him. The sound of the water moving just registering in my ears as he reached over and pulled me flush against him.

His breath fanning against my neck. I could feel everything of him against my back. Every. Little. Thing.

I was frozen within his hold. Not a logical thought coming through my mind, besides how soft and gentle he was tracing my back, all the way down to my thighs. How unbelievably slow he was being, taking his time.

It took some more of his gentle touches, purrs, and hot whispers in my neck to fully relax in his hold. Letting him caress my body as he pleased, a satisfied rumble coming from him. His hand dragging closer, and closer to my inner thighs.

Yelping out in surprise. Water splashing over the tub. I could feel the smirk of his lips on my neck as his finger slowly pushed in through my walls. A rough hand keeping me in place by the neck while I whined at the stretch. His teeth, and tongue slowly nipping, and lapping at the other side of my neck.

F-F*cking bastard loved to surprise.

I bit my lip, desperate to keep in a moan as he slowly slid his finger in, and out, again, and again. The bubbles above the water moving with the moments.

My hips suddenly jurked forward, chasing that split second feeling that erupted my body into flames. Hydra softly purring in my ear as he didn’t hesitate to plunge just a little deeper with his fingers.

“F*ck!” I cursed. Throwing my head back on his shoulder. His mouth slowly attacking at the side of my face, following it down to my jaw and neck. His other hand moving, dragging down to my chest, keeping me pinned against him.

A whine escaped my throat while Hydra cooed in response. His nose nuzzling into my collarbone as he added another finger inside of me. The stretch feeling unbelievable.

When was the last time I got laid? F*ck, when was the last time I even had something like this?

Closing my eyes, another whine escaped my lips. My brain going fuzzy as I tucked my head under his. A sweet sounding purr vibrating through his throat while I laid there, basking in the afterglow. Trying to catch my breath.

A mix between and rumbled an a purr came from Hydra while I moved my head from his neck. Barely registering how the water gotten cold.

I think, the aftermath was more relaxing than the bath itself anyways.

Shakily, lifting myself off Hydra, and stepping out of the bathtub. Hydra cooed in a questioning, almost worried manner.

“Don’t worry, the bath had just gotten cold.” I stated, leaning over to give him a kiss to his jaw when the little sh*t turned, giving a proper kiss to me. Eyes shining with mischief as he turned it into a full on out make-out session.

Just where did he learn all of this stuff?!

“Hydra…” I managed to pant out his name between his greedy kisses. Pulling away from him when I needed air. A cute little whine leaving him “Oh hush, you mischievous thing.”

Turning my back on him. I heard him rise from the bath while I grabbed a towel from under the sink. Not getting a chance to wrap it around myself as I got picked up, and sat on the counter top. Where the main session began.

“F*ck, Hydra!” I moaned out his name. His hips losing their rhythm at the call out before readjusting. A low growl coming from him while I clenched around him. His c*ck hitting the spot inside of me just right.

All sorts of sinful sounds left my mouth as he hit that spot again, and again. Black dots clouding my vision as he cooed, and chuffed at me. Not relenting his pace.

The building up was more quick than the last, and desperate for immediate release, body on flames. My hand dragged across my stomach. Briefly feeling just how much he was inside of me. How much bigger he was.

A pitiful whine left my throat when Hydra took ahold of my hand from my bud, and pinned it to the counter top. His mouth huffing, and snarling in my ear. Occasionally nipping, and bitting at my shoulder.

Oh Please, make more of the your little sounds my little Serpent.

“H-Hydra!”

Yes, yes, come on- just a few more. Please my little Serpent.

“Hydra! F-f*ck!” I cried out, body’s stilling. Vision blacking out for a moment more. His release flooding inside of me, tongue lapping at my collarbone.

F****ck, I’m gonna have to look up what it means to get f*cked by an Astartes. God damn.

—

They, were unworthy.

Unworthy of her time, her gaze, and grace, her presence. Simply too weak to provide such strength they proclaim to have. Even in groups.

A dishonor they would have been.

Darling, let me show you what true providence is.

ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 V

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 III

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥: “𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗” 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙

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conundrumsofphilosophy · 11 months

Note

I seriously don’t know how this “ask” thing works, but what do you think the mercs would do on a beach day? Beach days for fictional characters are always so silly

i love this i freaking love beach days. i had so much fun writing these

scout

- he is beelining for the water. he loves swimming and doesn't get to often so as soon as they get there he is in the water splishing and splashing

- refuses to put sunscreen on (that's for wimps) so he gets sunburnt to hell and back and medic has to slather him in aloe vera gel when they get back to base

- will not be waiting 20 minutes after eating the sandwich engineer packed him before he gets back in the water. will get a cramp and will act like it doesn't even bother him to impress miss pauling (she's here in my beautiful mind) she is not impressed and will try to get him to get out of the water

- accidentally destroys some random kid's sandcastle so he'll sit down with them to help them rebuild it

soldier

- trying to catch fish with his bare hands. hoping to catch a shark

- getting buried in the sand and a sexy mermaid body sculpted on top of him. likely demo is the one burying him

- swims over to the others as sneakily as he can (not very) and tries to jump them (they heard him coming but they play along)

- eats sand /j

pyro

- brought ALL of the sand toys. water is not their thing so they're building masterclass sandcastles with engineer

- after too long in direct sun he gets really uncomfortable so he's laying face down on a towel under a big umbrella. melting

- walks along the shoreline looking for jellyfish. they have a stick to poke them with. also picks up shells and brings them to people

- he helps with the sexy mermaid body sculpting for soldier

demoman

- goes way out into the water and just floats in one spot. staring

- he's wasted obviously so pauling and heavy are keeping a very careful eye on him. him getting caught in a riptide could really ruin the beach day

- enjoys laying out in the sun. will probably lay his towel out beside sexy mermaid soldier and they'll stare at the sky until one or both are asleep

- WILL start a game of beach volleyball with the others and WILL be on the losing team

heavy

- sitting with medic and miss pauling. he's not much for swimming, and he feels responsible for making sure the other mercs don't die (demo) (soldier) (scout)

- he and engineer prepared the picnic. they got up so early and made. so many sandwiches

- will be coerced into volleyball. absolutely fucking dominates and his team wins every match

- actually applies sunscreen like a normal rational person because he burns BAD. medic does his back <3

engineer

- second person in the water when they get there. scout screamed at him while he was running there to join him and he will always cave to scout pressure

- the water is really nice on his joints and swimming helps his back so it's a good time all around for him. i think he is in pain all the time btw

- makes sure everyone eats something and has plenty to drink. papa

- literally keels over laughing at sexy mermaid soldier. it catches him so off guard when he sees it and it makes him lose his shit. he'll think about it a week later and start laughing again. and nobody brought a camera so he only has the mental picture

medic

- swimming is sensory hell for him so he opts out. but he still enjoys the beach because he gets to watch his peers being idiotic

- referees the beach volleyball match. he doesn't know anything about volleyball (neither does anyone else really.) he's just happy to be here

- delights in the shells pyro brings him and he keeps all of them forever. he has a little jar of them in his office

- he and miss pauling had a miscommunication error in the planning and they both brought the same overpacked first aid kit so the team is. doubly prepared

sniper

- swimming very leisurely. i think he is a chronic pain sufferer so he takes it easy but it definitely helps ease some aches

- helps pyro get wet sand for his sandcastles so he doesn't have to keep getting up and down. brings him a couple pails of wet sand at a time and replenishes when needed

- absolutely falls asleep and gets a heinous sunglasses tan line

- absolutely terrible at volleyball but he plays anyways. he's on heavy's team so he gets to gloat even though he barely contributed

spy

- i really love the image of him being at the beach still in full suit. lounging on a beach chair with sunglasses on and a mimosa and one of those sun reflectors

- couldn't be bothered. he does not participate in any activities whatsoever except graciously receiving seashells from pyro (which he does appreciate. they're very pretty)

- might fall asleep a little bit. scout wakes him up to ask him if he should try some move on miss pauling. he tells him absolutely not and immediately falls back asleep

- somehow he doesn't overheat despite being in layers in the sun. magic man

keep the requests coming :3 love you guys

#tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 mercs #doe's drabbles (headcanons)#tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 pyro #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier #team fortress 2 #miss pauling #doe's drabbles (request)#talhal

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jommunism · 26 days

Text

im still in my post-show-comedown period and cant sleep so time for a story :3

so, im in kaiju queers, we're a queercore punk band in denton, tx. i joined back in february of this year, taking the place of the former drummer

for this band, i bought a new-to-me drum set, a 2017 yamaha stage custom kit in cranberry red, and i LOVE them omg look at my pwetty dwumbz

its a 5 piece kit (pieces in drummer speak means drums, excludes cymbals/other pieces of kit), comprising a 20 inch kick, 14 inch snare, 10 and 12 inch rack toms, and a 14 inch floor tom. ive also carried over the 16 inch floor tom from my circa-2002 childhood pearl export kit for more boom

i also have a very odd cymbal configuration. from left to right, i have a set of 13 inch zildjian planet z hi-hats (cheap, brass beginner cymbals i got for $50 used), my childhood 18 inch sabian b8 crash/ride, a secondary hi-hat without a pedal using my childhood 14 inch sabian b8 hats, and a 20 inch b8 ride with a 12 inch b8pro splash mounted upside down on top of the ride

pic for reference

ANYWAY

in between practices/shows/etc my drums live in our frontwoman dana's house for convenience, we rehearse there and operate out of there on gig days, so while it makes practicing with the band far easier, it also means i dont have immediate access to my gear

however

it also means that my drums get used when im not around, like when dana jams with the rest of the band or with other musician friends

and on one such recent occasion, the former kaiju queers drummer (whos actually on the EP) was over jamming, using his kit, but when he packed up to leave, he took some of my kit with him

and then he put it in a friend's rehearsal space

so last week, i roll in for practice, and my hi-hat stand (with pedal) is gone, a cymbal stand is gone, my snare stand is gone, and the lil doohickey that goes into the kick drum and holds the rack tom and second hi-hat was gone too

but fuck it we ball, the show must go on, etc

so i had to improvise and make my already unconventional kit (there's a reason for all of it, promise!) even weirder

i used the one cymbal stand for the ride and splash like normal, and just went without a pedal hat (which was not pleasant), using the auxiliary contraption i built plugged directly into the kick

for toms, i used the smaller floor tom as a rack tom at times and as a double floor tom at others depending on the song

observe, shenanigans

this completely broke all my muscle memory for playing fills and other accent parts and i had to constantly adjust things and it never felt comfortable, but i managed

and at times it ended up making me more creative with improvising

oh and the kick kept sliding around on the carpet cuz the little rubber feetsies on the legs got pushed too far up and exposed the spikes which only grip by chewing into the floor

now for some band operational behind-the-scenes shit

when multiple bands are playing a show together, its rather common for one band's drummer to supply the core kit (kick, toms, sometimes a snare, stands/hardware) with each drummer swapping in their own cymbals and snare if desired

since i play such a weird and bigger than average kit (most drummers ive played with only use a 4 piece kit (one rack tom, one floor tom) with a handful using a second rack tom for a 5 piece)

i usually supply the drums for the show (called backlining)

but for last friday's show, i didnt have a full kit to bring, i had to use a backup snare stand (which is literally shaking itself apart) just to get thru rehearsal

so i had to play the backline drums from another band

and of course, that drummer uses a 4 piece kit, so i was having to adjust on the fly, on stage, during the show

i made it thru by bringing my own snare and larger floor tom along with the auxiliary hi-hat contraption, which made it not as bad as it could have been, but damn it was weird. that guy likes to keep his shit tuned LOW with almost like, flabby-loose heads on the toms, whereas i keep mine tuned up a bit higher, so my 16 inch floor tom (my lowest tuned not-a-kick drum) was dramatically higher pitch than his floor tom

and my muscle memory still was off, going for drums that werent there constantly

i got thru the show, but definitely wasnt my best work

for this past tuesdays practice, i still had to go without my normal set up, as the previous drummer still hadnt been back with my gear, so once again, had to improvise, using the smaller floor tom fully extended as a makeshift rack tom, and it went a little better

but i was so fuckin happy to see him roll up after practice that night with a trunk full of hardware

and for the show i just played a few hours ago, i was able to roll up and backline with my full 6 piece kit assembled how i like it :3

#drums #musicians #drumming #queercore

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mybones537 · 10 months

Text

Time chapter 2

Moriarty the Patriot x fem reader

I have posted this on Wattpad under the same username mybones 537

London, England 1875

Drip drip

There is a pounding in my head

Drip drip

I can feel the beating of my heart

Drip drip

My whole body hurts

Drip drip

I slowly open my eyes

Drip drip

I squint my eyes because of the light

Drip drip

I slowly sit up

Drip drip

I lift my hand to the back of my head

Drip drip

I feel something wet and sticky

Drip drip

I pull my hand away

Drip drip

I see it’s covered in a crimson liquid

Drip drip

“Blood?”

Drip drip

I scan my surroundings

Drip drip

I’m in an old apartment, it’s giving 19th century (1800) style

Drip drip

What’s making that noise?

Drip drip

I stand up and close the tap

“Finally”

I see my first aid kit and a duffel bag with my things in.

“What is going on?… How did I get here?… Where am I?”

“The body is in here sir”, I hear muffled voices on the other side of the door.

“Shit.” I put my bags on my back and move to the window.

I see I’m on the second story.

“Here goes nothing” I climb out the window and slid down the pipe on the side of the building

“Hey! Where did the body go?”someone shouted from the building.

I ran away. As I’m running I take some clothes off a washing line and grab a pair of boots. I eventually get to a river and wash off the blood. I splash my face trying to clear my head.

“What the hell is happening? This place doesn’t look anything like Pietermaritzburg.”

I’m trying to make sense of everything that’s happening,

Where am I?

I change out of my bloodied uniform and stuff it in my duffel bag.

Calm down, I breathe in and out trying to calm down

It’s not working!

I slap myself to get myself out of my panicking state

Okay that’s better

Let’s go and take a look around maybe I can find something to indicate where I am

I walk into the street and I see something shiny on the floor. I squat down to pick it up .

A shilling? Didn’t England stop using these in the 90s?

There’s no way I would find one of these in South Africa, they stopped using these in the 60s.

How would I even get to England? It’s a 10 hour flight at least.

When was this coin made?

I turn the shilling over

1871!

How is that even possible?

You know what. I need more evidence, I doubt I could have travelled back in time. It’s scientifically impossible.

I get up and walk into the street . The buildings are old fashioned, the people are wearing suits and dresses

Okay this is getting ridiculous.

Why is everyone wearing old fashioned clothes?

“Newspapers! Come get the latest news! Freshly printed today! Only one shilling to get the latest news today!”

I walk to the paper boy and give him a shilling

“Thank you ma’am. Have a good day “ he gives me the newspaper.

“You too”

I leaned on the wall of a nearby building and took a look at the newspaper

5 June 1875

What?

How … is that even possible?

Did I really travel back in time?

But how?

The last thing I remember, I was on my way to a heart attack victim in Victoria street…

Then we were on the bridge but what happened after that?

How did I end up in the 18 hundreds? In England?

How did I travel to another continent and back in time?

I… I… I don’t know what to do

How… how

“Ahhhh! Someone help! Call a doctor!”

I run to where the scream came from and see a crowd around a man on the ground.

“I’m a doctor” I say and the crowd lets me through.

“What seems to be the problem sir?” I ask as I put my bags on the ground.

“You're a woman? How could you possibly be a doctor?” The man on the ground says.

“Yes I am. I don’t see what my gender has anything to do with it.” I say, l now sir if you want help I suggest you stop worrying about my gender and more about what is wrong. Now what is the matter sir?”

“He was fine a moment ago and then he suddenly stopped walking, turned pale and fell,” the woman next to him tells me as she takes his hand in hers.

“My chest… hurts and my shoulder is… painful” he says as battles to breathe.

I put my hand on his forehead, I noticed he has a cold sweat.

“Sir, can you describe the pain in your chest please?”

“It almost feels full but it is very tight and my heart is racing” he says. I take out my stethoscope and check his heart rate, he is right, his heart is beating at an unbelievable speed. I take out an aspirin.

“Sir I need you to chew on this and then focus on your breathing”

“What is that?” He asks slightly sceptical of the tablet.

“It’s an aspirin, it will help calm your heart down”

He chews on it as I take out the defibrillator.

“What is that contraption?’’ l his wife asks.

“It’s a defibrillator for in case his heart stops but I doubt it will”

I say as his heart stops, “never mind”

I begin to perform CPR to keep the blood flowing as I wait for the defibrillator to charge up.

“What are you doing?” The wife asks as tears form in her eyes.

“I’m trying to keep his blood flowing” I answer as I push down on his chest, “ma’am I’m going to need you to let go of him please”

“Why is he dead!” She shouts as tears flow down her cheeks, her makeup smudging.

“I’m going to shock his heart back into rhythm” I say in a monotone voice, “when I say clear, I need you to not be touching him at all”

The defibrillator beeps saying it’s charged up. I stop performing CPR and pick up the defibrillator pads and rub them together

“1…2..3… clear’’ the shock doesn’t work.

“1…2…3… clear’’ the shock goes through, ‘’ come on work!’’

“1..2…3…clear’’ the electricity goes to his heart, he jolts awake breathing heavily.

“Thank you!’’ The woman shouts and hugs me. I freeze from the hug, I’m not used to physical contact.

“You saved my life. Thank you” he says. There is a flash of a camera and a reporter with a pen and notepad.

“What's your name miss?” the reporter asks as he gets his pen ready.

“Dr (name) (middle name) (last name)” I say. As I look up a camera flashes taking a picture of me. I see a street sign saying Victoria street.

Looks like I got to the heart attack victim after all.

#moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty #louis james moriarty #william james moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty #james moriarty #sherlockholmes #moriarty fanfic #sebastian moran #fredporlock #mycroft holmes

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gamergirl-06 · 6 months

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Dead island 2 Bruno x reader

This is on my Wattpad as well if you want to read on there.

Part 1: Flight of the damned

You ran into the plane catching your breath, you had never run fast in your life like that ever.

You had just gotten your plane ticket checked before you heard the announcement

"Attention Everyone, evacuate immediately, do not run, do not scream, do not push"

You didn't waste a second getting to the plane and took off that you didn't know what was going on around you.

You sat in your seat while more people rushed in, one of them a man wearing black beanie, he had dreads that were dyed, tattoos on his legs and arms and face and he wore glasses.

You two gave each other a nod before going back to do your own thing.

The last thing you remember is the plane going down and hitting your head before blacking out...

-Timeskip-

You awoke in pain looking down and seeing you had a piece of debris in your stomach.

You groaned as you pulled it out letting out a shout "fuck fuck FUCK"

You started to lose blood and you used all your strength to hoist yourself onto your feet.

"Think, first aid station..." you mumble as you stumble into a room with a first aid kit.

You reach to grab it but you collapse before you could even touch it before you look to your right and see a little bottle of alcohol which you grab and splash onto the wound.

"AH" you scream as you hit your arm on the cabinet which causes the med kit to fall off the wall and next to you.

You take it before finding a bandage and putting it on the wound to stop the bleeding.

"Oh god, I have to get out of here" as you make your way to find a way out.

As you reach the next room you see the guy from earlier heading towards an opening. Before you could say something, he sees you.

"Hey, you ok? He asked

You look at him "yeah I guess, I had a piece of debris that I had to pull out of my stomach but other then that yeah I'm fine"

His eyes go wide "holy fuck that's bad"

You smile a bit " I know but don't worry I patched it up"

He nods in approval before asking "do you..uh maybe want to get out of here with me?"

"Of course, this place isn't really safe so I'd rather go"

He jumps up onto another part of the plane and offers his hand which you accept.

Once he helps you up,You look out into the world in front of you which was nothing but debris.

"I think we should look for other survivors" your new friend suggests.

"Yeah I agree, I'm (Y/N) by the way" you tell him

"I'm Bruno" Bruno said

You two continue to walk down a path and duck under some plane bits before coming up to an engine which was whirring loudly.

Before you could get closer the engine exploded knocking both of you back.

"Ay, hijo de puta" Bruno mumbled (Ow, son of a bitch)

"We need to go this way" you point to another pathway which leads you around the now broken engine.

You head around and down a little slope to a plane when you see flares coming from the other side of it

"More survivors" Bruno said with enthusiasm.

You both enter the plane before you heard a female voice "Will you stop firing those BLOODY flares"

You both try to sneak to the door but a suitcase falls to the floor making a loud thud.

"What was that??" The female voice said again as it went silent.

Bruno opens the door and a man holding a pipe comes rushing towards you two before stopping.

"Easy, we're clean" Bruno says "are you guys ok"

"Yeah just a few bruises, we got lucky, I'm Michael" he says.

"Well this is FUCKING TREMENDOUS!" The woman says before throwing her shoes to the ground and sobbing.

Michael goes over to comfort her "Emma darling I'm so sorry about Robert"

"WHY! I mean this is all his fault the SELFISH WANKER!!" The woman, Emma yelled

Sheesh she's not happy at all...

"Don't just stand there and find me some FUCKING SHOES" Emma shouts.

"Hey friend, you got blood coming out of your ears" Bruno asks the other man that was with them.

"WHAT, I CAN'T HEAR YOU I GOT BLOOD COMING OUT OF MY EARS!" He raises his voice.

"Well what are we going to do" Emma asks

"People this is Emma Jaunt" Michael says

"Sure is" Bruno says. Not gonna lie, you only just met him but you got jealous the way he was looking at her.

"Of course you know who she is,Romero winner no less...we need to get her home to safety"

You then heard a groan behind you, you walk over to the noise and move a piece of the plane of Joshua.

"Hey you alright" you ask him

He looks to his left "My-y Wife" he groaned as Bruno lifted the other piece revealing a woman and he felt for a pulse.

"She's alive, a night for miracles, ey" Bruno says trying to lighting the mood

"Get this off me" Joshua said

"You heard him" Bruno said "c'mon all of you"

"Michael help" Emma told Michael

You all tried lifting it but to no avail.

You heard roars as Michael said " I think they're getting closer"

"Times against us" Bruno says

"I don't know, perhaps we should stay" Emma said

"Emma darling, they'll protect them" Michael says pointing to you and Bruno

"Volunteered have we" you and Bruno say sarcastically.

"Ok Michael if you're sure, here is my address in case you change your mind" Emma's says as she grabs Bruno's arm writing her address down.

As she walks away with Michael she shouts "GOOD LUCK"

Bruno scoffs and says "yeah good luck"

Just then the man you encountered with Emma and Michael shouted "HEY ARE YOU EMMA JAUNT" while following them.

You and Bruno get back to the task at hand, as you see someone is standing across from you but their back is turned,Bruno approaches them but he gets attacked and you kill it.

More zombies come out and you and Bruno find weapons to kill them with.

"Oi Bruno,you could knock down the burning wheel and kill em all" you suggest

"Oh yeah, smart idea" he says and he throws his weapon knocking the wheel down.

After that, You look at the woman who was groaning and Bruno grabs her "hey you ok"

She then attacks him and bites his arm and you grab her off him and she bites your arm as well as you and you push her as she bites Joshua but Bruno grabs a shoe and kills her while Joshua rips himself out from under his stuck state And Bruno stomps on him.

You both look at your arms "FUCK, this can't be happening"

Your vision goes red for a second as Bruno says "think 4..5..6..66 Alpine drive"

He grabs your hand as you guys fight your way through some zombies punching some , pushing others as you ran down a hill with more in hot pursuit.

#BrunoDeadisland Deadisland2 #xreader

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authorofthemoon · 1 year

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GENSHIN THEORY / POSSIBLE SPOILERS / FURINA KIT LEAKS

Okay so I just got Neuvillette and I started playing around with his kit and I started looking at his profile and I've realized something that is going to be keeping me up tonight. Now, I haven't played the story quest yet but and it might confirm this but I think that Neuvillette might be the real Hydro Archon and Furina is just a stand in / figurehead. This could also be a well known theory but I don't really go on theory discussions.

Now the first thing that tipped me off to this is Neuvillette's kit and how it's oddly similar to the Traveler's. If you don't know, Traveler's kit for a certain element is a lesser version of the Archon's which is clear when you compare them. Neuvillette's charge attack is similar to the Traveler's skill with a water gun / cannon type attack and also creates water droplets thst heal. That could also just be part of a new mechanic thought. I haven't looked too deeply into Furina's kit but I scanned it and it's pretty in depth but doesn't seem similar to Traveler's.

The second thing that tipped me off is that Neuvillette's profile and two things are off. Both his vision and constellation name both have a ??? where they should be. Now, we all know that he's the Hydro dragon so it makes sense that he doesn't have anything in vision, it's probably his own power l, but why is his constellation nameless? If you compare him to other characters, the Archons all say 'gnosis' instead of vision and it's the same in their story section. Notably, it does say vision in Neuvillette's but he also doesn't have one, so why is it there? Also, his constellation could very well be himself in his dragon form like how the others are themselves in their human form.

There are more similarities between him and the other archons. He has lines about the other archons, but they are labeled 'geo archon' instead of Morax. Also, all archons have a line about 'the visions' in reference to visions. Neuvillete has two with this same label and are also locked behind the archon quest and I don't want to anything up I like getting lines naturally.

Now on to a leak about Furina's splash art. Two notable things about it are, from what I remember, that she has a slightly different outfit which doesn't mean much and she has a vision. Now, Zhongli and Ventingave fake visions, but they're pretending to be people so why would she need one? I think when she comes out, the reveal that she is not the Hydro Archon will happen, so she actually does need a vision to fight.

On to Furina's fighting and I think this is highly important. Why was she scared to fight the Traveler? We joked about it and maybe she's the weakest, but she was so scared at the thought. Even Venti can put up a good fight. The answer is she's not that strong because she's not an archon. Neuvillete however has already shown to be very powerful, one shotting Childe.

It's also clear that Neuvillette does more for running Fontaine than Furina who puts on a performance for her people. Also, the Justice Machine (I can't remember it's actual name) was created by the archon. Coincidentally the JM and Neuvillete are always on the same page sans the Childe verdict. Also Furina has no idea what's going on with it, but Neuvillette probably does.

I also realized while using him, his hair glows or the horns he has does. Just like all the other archons during their burst. His idle animation again similar in that he controls Hydro in his hand. This would also explain something that's bothered me for a while which is the archon gender ratio being 5-2. It makes more sense to be 4-3. I thought that it was bc the Nahida might have been originally male, but this very much explains it.

If any of this holds up, the question is why? Why hide the true archons identity. A couple reason I can think of are one, to hide the gnosis from anyone who might be looking. Two, Neuvillete simply just believes he wasn't the right person to lead people, we've already seen he has trouble connecting to humans, so this is why he has Furina, someone who is charismatic and can sway human feelings with her huge personality. It makes sense as the queen, she's just a figurehead with no real power outside of public opinion. My theory is that she's some kind of oceanid which I think is already a running theory.

I don't know how much of this holds water, hehe, and some stuff might be inaccurate. If it's true I am terrified of the implications. This could be why Furina was so scared in the trailer, her voice at least. She's been cornered and in reality, she's not an archon.

Ugh I'm so excited to play the archon quest if this is the truth I'll be so validated and also it would be super valley of Hoyoverse to basically shadow drop the archon.

#genshin spoilers #genshin impact archon quest #genshin impact #genshin impact fontaine #genshin theory #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #furina

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unknownjpegs · 8 months

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cards

Benji kicks the brown-clad body.

“Not ours.”

“Ours either.” Xavier pants, tossing the crowbar to the side with a clang. It splatters brain matter, gore, and a wet splash of crimson across the floor in a graceful arc. “Damn, his form was really bad.”

“Yeah, s’why I thought he was with your lot.”

Xavier barks out a laugh, wipes his bloody cheek near-clean on his shoulder. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

They blink at each other; two toothy, unhinged grins. Benji isn’t the first to break that prolonged contact, and it makes him a little wild to see Xavier’s cheeks gone rosy-pink after just a few seconds. Really wants to call attention to it — he’d just been looking, anyway.

“He fell on our game.” Xavier pouts. “Or else I would have won.” He crouches, and flips over a blood-flicked card, holds it up between index and middle fingers for Benji to evaluate.

“See? Queen of spades. Royal flush, or whatever.”

Benji snorts. “We were playing rummy.”

“You, maybe.” Xavier scoffs, as if he hadn’t sat and explained the rules himself. He wobbles the Queen between his fingers. “I was playing go fish.”

“Explains why I wasn’t getting any matches, then, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe you’re just fucking awful at cards.” Xavier bats his eyelashes.

Benji steps carefully around the body, which really is mysteriously nondescript. Uniform all brown, no patches in sight, but clearly kitted. Espionage, maybe, or an infiltrator, or somebody just looting. But he’d rushed the door, like the room they’d selected for the meet-up was known. That makes him anxious, but it’s hard to let it curl full and cold in his gut. No space for it, the way Xavier is eyeing him all coy.

“You tryna get some, or what?” Benji stops in front of him, swallowing hard when Xavier leans forward and rubs his nose against his hip. “Cuz there are more efficient ways of doin’ that than insulting me.”

“Are there?” The card flutters to the floor, face-up. Xavier rocks back in his crouch. Big hands on both knees, grunting as he pushes up. “You should be, like, so so so specific.”

Benji’s breath catches in his chest as he rises, clearly making a slow show of it. They’re close, and maybe he’d had been purposeful about that. A smirking mouth brushes the edge of his shirt, plush bottom lip catching on the hem and pulling it up slightly. He doesn’t so much kiss as he does rub his face into every accessible spot in Benji’s armor, against his dusty shirt between straps and the ammo sling and armor straps.

Those green eyes stay locked on his, heatedly dancing mischievous — gotcha smug and brightened, because there’s no hiding how it makes Benji’s breath come shallow, his eyes dilating dark.

Xavier rises; sternum, chest, eye level and…keeps going. Up and up, until that wolfish grin has to be tuned downwards so Benji can see it. It’s not fear that sets his heart racing, but it feels like the same quick-cold. Real restless, drumming in his ears.

Fucking hell, but he needs to examine whatever weird quirk makes him wild over it. That it’s enough; Xavier simply standing there in front of him, towering, makes his neck break out in a sweat.

His fingers twitch.

“We have time?” Xavier breathes. They’re out past the fighting, no reason to be quiet. But his voice pitches down there regardless, softly private in a Saturday-morning-under-the-duvet way that makes Benji shiver again. There he goes, thinking about that sorta shit.

Been happening more often. Sometimes he wakes up hard from some silly dream where they’d done nothing but lay side by side and pillow talk, rather than do any of the fun, explicit bits leading up to it.

“Yeah,” he says, because they have got a little time. Checks his watch, pretends to contemplate. “S’only half past sit down in that chair so I can suck your dick.”

Xavier’s eyebrows raise, the soft smile faltering for a brief second before it curls filthily. “Ooh. Okay. Is that a new unit of measurement? Should I search up conversions?”

Benji rolls his eyes. Sets the tips of his fingers to the center of Xavier’s chest and pushes until he stumbles back a step.

Xavier, just like with his crouch, makes a show of it: windmilling his arms and kicking his legs out. Except there’s the slackening of his mouth, the self-satisfied grin wiped clean at being shoved about.

“It was the insults, right? I beat your ass at cards and it made you hard.” Xavier falls heavily into the chair, which creaks threateningly under his frame. Spreads his legs invitingly. Benji stands between them, hands on his shoulders.

“Uh-huh.”

Those green eyes dart down to his waist, a few strands of unruly red hair dangling from the side of his head as he tilts it.

“Are you?” Xavier asks Benji’s lap, staring like he’s got x-ray vision. “Hard, I mean?”

“A bit,” he admits. And then because he can imagine the expression he’ll get for it, goes: “Might have a wank while I do it, if you don’t mind.”

“Ohmygodplease.”

“That a yes?” Benji touches two fingers to his chin, which has suddenly pointed upwards at the ceiling.

“I — I’m gonna die, dude.” His nose scrunches. “Oh, speaking of. There’s still a body in the corner, by the way,” Xavier points out. Even sat, his head is level with Benji’s chest. Though it’s a complete reversal of the positions from a moment before, it fills him with the same heated madness.

“Forgot about him.”

“Rude.” Benji says dryly. “Snitch on us, will he?”

“Hey everybody,” Xavier whisper-shouts, “this fuckin’ British guy is gonna— oh, goddamn.”

Benji’s anything but noiseless as he drops to his knees, palms sliding from Xavier’s chest downwards. Bites off both gloves and then replaces the touch with hands on those spread thighs, squeezing them purposefully. Seeking a reaction, which he gets —

“British guy is…ffffuck. Gonna,” Xavier lifts his hips up, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his voice trails off distant and small. “Gonna suck my dick, oh Jesus, wow you’re really serious about it, huh?”

“Yeah.” Benji chuckles warmly, muffled where he’s jerked the plain black t-shirt over a pale stomach. He’d get on with it, usually, but…instead he puts his mouth to that wash of flesh, right over particularly engrossing clump of freckles. Bites down: takes the loose skin where it bunches and sets his teeth in, marks the spot with a bruising suck that starts to purple almost immediately.

“I’m feeling very. Meat-like. Tenderized.” Xavier hiccups.

Benji watches the spot grow dark, eyes lidded and his tongue pressed to his bottom lip.

Mine.

It cracks across his thoughts. Reminds him of the zip of a bullet train through the countryside with its speed and immediate race into the distance.

There’s an extended pause.

“B-Benji —?” Xavier starts, trailing into a question and then a ragged moan.

Because Benji’s not gentle about it. Desperate, actually, and rough to get his pants down his thighs. His nails scrape at the delicate flesh in the crease of Xavier’s hip, leaving a line of welting red streaks.

Mine, again, on schedule. Another, mine, because that huge body is whining and shifting already; Benji has not yet managed to get the fucker’s trousers out of the way.

In a similar vein, his mouth is watering, too. So he supposes that’s turnabout, right?

He can still taste the dusty salt-sweat of Xavier’s skin on his tongue; even as he yanks his briefs down and takes him in hand, he’s overcome with the urge to lean back up and suck another bruise.

Xavier, for his part, is already hard in his hand.

“Fuckin’ hell, don’t tell me this is about the dead body,” Benji snickers. He pumps Xavier slow at first, dry-palm and a mean to hear those whines, so the breath leaves his broad chest faster, making him pant pretty and high.

“It is not it’s the...was the,” Xavier pushes long fingers through his hair, licks his lips, “the getting on your knees part. And also the looking at you part. And maybe a little bit of the — huh, oh fuck — the hickey, thing.”

Benji lays his head cheek on Xavier’s thigh, glancing up the length of his body towards his cherubic-pretty fucking face. Finds that gaze, holds it as he strokes. “The looking at me part?”

Xavier blinks rapidly, and the way his chest visibly stutters on the next breath has Benji grinning. And that has his sides pausing a second too long on the next inhale, another stutter like he’s forgotten how to breathe at all.

“Wow,” Xavier says, laughing airily when Benji licks all that pooling saliva up his palm and returns it to his cock. “Oh fuck. You think there’s a cooler way to go than death by blowjob?”

“Probably. Too bad you won’t be finding out, ‘ey?”

Benji’s chuckling as he shifts up and fits an arm between the back of the chair and Xavier’s arched spine, tugging him forward for a better angle. He whines, naturally, and the noise slips higher and higher the closer Benji leans. It tapers off into a wheeze as he properly gets his mouth around the reddened tip.

The fingers in his hair tighten at the first touch of his tongue. His vision whites at the edges a bit. Not in a good way. He thinks very briefly of a harsh pull. About not getting enough time to breathe —

Benji frowns and pulls away, string of saliva between his tongue and the throbbing head of Xavier’s cock. He sucks his cheeks, collecting it off the side of his mouth, and then glances up.

Xavier watches him with huge eyes, dark-rimmed, that ring of shiny-leaf green nearly gone. He has the feeling he could make any sort of request right now, but with all of the things he wants to put forth, to offer, what he gets out is:

“Not so hard?”

Xavier nods rapidly, chin touching his chest, and lets him pull a pale wrist back towards the crown of his skull. Long, calloused fingers stroke gently, tug gently, and it’s so much fucking better. No white to his vision, no distanced memories.

He’s motivated to make it good, because the champagne burst of warmth in his chest feels good. The urge comes to share that, very suddenly, so he sets to it.

Benji doesn’t have him beat by a long shot, not at this. But his cheeks heat up, not even at the deliciously sore stretch, because he really likes doing it for Xavier. Likes how he gets noise after noise, plucked out with little effort. Praise and sweats and curious, slurred phrases he barely parses the more he sucks and strokes just as Xavier prefers.

The salty burst of fluid overrides the lingering taste of skin, has his mouth pooling that much wetter and makes it — fuck, but it gets a little disgusting. Messy. So much so that he feels a trail of saliva slip down his chin, slide from the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t even care; lets the slick noises of his hand and mouth get loud. Makes him shiver, listening to those breathless, punched-out grunts and yeah, yeah, please, yeahs.

And before — before what? he thinks distantly — he’d never been keen to get on his knees. Doing this, in particular, made him feel debased. And not the fun sort, where the manic and freeing pleasure prompts him to get loud and bite pillows or a freckled shoulder or tug red —whatever. The demeaning way.

But, Benji considers, eyes slipping open to find Xavier’s, it’s him. It’s him. He’ll make an exception, and not the kind that has him feeling feeling guilty to have conceded to, afterwards.

“That’s good. H-ah, that is…shit. Very fucking good, Benji, oh, oh.”

I like it because you like it, he finds himself thinking, and it’s the first time that it's ever felt safe to let that particular sentence crystalize. Has a zip of lust flitting through him hot instead of reticent and chilled. He likes it because the fingers in his hair are soft and reverent pets in favor of callous, selfish yanking.

Benji moans. He’s not sure where it comes from, but it’s got his rib cage fragile, like it’s rattling through him.

“Fuck. Benj —Benji, yeah, that’s s’fuckin’ good. Your mouth, I, more, please —” Xavier rambles, slurring the words with his heavy accent until Benji can barely make sense of them. But the compliments are enough, he can feel it, racing up his spine and making him shiver. Proper hard, now.

Xavier has got his head back, tilted at the ceiling, and when it dips falls back and sees Benji looking up, his eyelashes flutter. “Ah! Oh, okay. Man you are…” he laughs, chest jumping. “Youuuu—“

Benji pulls off, panting hard against the side of the cock in his hand. It twitches, and Benji gives it a thanks for being patient, take a number be right back sort of nudge. Gotta talk. Tell Xavier:

“Want it on my face.”

“What the fuck?” Xavier hisses, stomach jumping. His hand shoots up to his chest, scrabbling at his vest and then falling away with a defeated whine. “Oh, shit.”

Benji doesn’t really know where it comes from either, but he means it. Means it really fucking bad, and he wants it just as much, now that the image is there it’s stuck, and he — he…

Well.

He really can’t help it, the desperate noises that come out of him, after that. Nearly as needy as Xavier’s, who is whining absolutely pitifully. Rhythmic, high noises from his stomach as Benji gets a little mean. He just…he wants it, and he might be demanding: give it to me, c’mon, Xavier, c’mon gorgeous, give it to me. Worse things too, at least under his breath, as his hand passes roughly over the slick, messy length.

Even when Xavier gasps, hunches over Benji as it tears through him, the hands in his hair stay loose. A gentle tangle around fingers, a pet over his skull.

Xavier flops back into the chair with a ragged moan, slumps a little as he cums. The noise cuts totally silent and Benji feels the thigh under his palm flex and then shake. Real fucking intense one, and the pride of that, the possessive little monster that squeezes his heart in its clawed grip, makes him smirk.

“S’fucking beautiful,” Benji praises, voice revealingly hoarse. His tongue still feels heavy. The look on Xavier’s as he offers himself over to it, the good damage done: blissed out and brow creased, mouth slack, eyes…fuck. Eyes rimmed all glossy, watery.

That makes Benji’s face heat more than the release that lands across his cheek, his mouth, a spot on his jaw.

“Jesus Christ,” Xavier whines. He tries to pet hair away from Benji’s forehead, but his hands are clumsy and end up shoving at his temple a little hard.

“Yeah sure, give him all the credit.” Benji says, rubbing the back of his knuckle over his cheek and collecting some of the fluid up. “Did all the work and he gets the thank you card?”

“I will buy you the biggest thank you card. All of them, ever. I’ll even let you win at rummy-gin-poker-go-fish for the rest of fucking time.” Xavier breathes, trying to steady it. He’s still got one hand in his hair. When Benji lifts his finger to his mouth, lips parted, it tightens a little and Xavier whimpers: “Mercy, dude, holy shit.”

And what else is he supposed to do but clean the rest of it up? He’s got an audience; Xavier’s eyes follow the movements like he’s got a laser pointer to them.

He nearly gets all of it before he’s being tugged up, arms around his shoulders, and pulled into a filthy kiss. Xavier’s tongue on his immediately, licking into his mouth, then pulling away with an audible noise and laving just as wet and hot along his cheekbone. Snuffling dramatically all along his jaw, down to his neck and back up with warm puffs of warm air.

Benji snorts, miffed at the tickle and how it makes his face warm, and pushes at Xavier’s chest.

“Missed a spot.”

“Mate, s’all you. Fuckin’ hound.” He tries to pull away again, but Xavier chases after, tightening his arms. It makes him wheeze out a laugh so loud it echoes in the room.

He could get out of the hold, he thinks. Just a quick duck and shove, but… But their chests aren’t just touching. They’re pressed very firmly together, intimate even with the vests in the way. And they both pause, then, as if it’s a tandem realization. How closer they are. All tight together. Benji’s struggling weakly washed away and Xavier…

Staring. He’s staring.

“Still got some?” Benji asks. He’s quiet, throat tight in a more distinct way than that tell-tale, memorably hot ache.

Xavier shakes his head slowly, eyes ping-ponging. He adjusts the hold he’s got on Benji to slide hands up the nape of his neck, back into the sweaty curls. Uses that to pull him in for another kiss. First to his neck, and then up to his jaw in a purposeful trail. When their lips touch it’s…shockingly none of the residual heat. Fervid and hungry, still, but softer. Slow. Like they’re long on time they haven’t got. And…and — the grip he uses to cradle Benji’s head, guide him this way and that for a more thorough taste? It’s gentle. It’s gentle.

#writing #ua #bp #xw #bp x xw #core au

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wearywinchester · 3 years

Text

Tender

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When hiding an injury from Dean doesn’t go to plan, he’s there to give you the comfort you need.

Requested by @latenight-daythoughts: “Hey! I have a request for a Dean one shot please, could you do one where she gets hurt on a hunt and tired to play it off until they get back to the bunker and when dean patches her up it hurts more then she thought, so she starts crying and Dean comforts her and is all cute and sweet? I love your writing btw!!”

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, fluff, comfort, kissing

Hurt. You got hurt on that hunt and you weren’t quite sure how you talked yourself out of it with Dean. Maybe you actually did, but a part of you told you that was more than likely impossible. Not with the look he gave you or the glance he spared down at your leg. But he seemingly took your word for it at that very moment.

Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you took a breath, trying your hardest to make it to the Impala sitting just a few feet away. Every ounce of pressure on your leg made it ache all the more as you walked, walked like you insisted you could do to a persistent Dean the moment he saw the look on your face. But you told him you were fine, staving his worries with a smile and a witty counter that had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It was fine, so long as you kept your weight off of it as much as possible until you could clean yourself up, it’d be fine. At least that’s what you’d told yourself.

You were relieved once you’d slipped in the front seat after Dean suggested you sit up there with him, Sam in the back, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as you slumped back against the leather seat. The fabric of your jeans over the wound on your thigh had been frayed on the brink of being ripped, but not enough to draw your eye should you be anyone but yourself or Dean Winchester. Stains of crimson hadn’t been visible on the dark denim material, but you were sure it’d be obvious the moment they came off.

As you sat, you felt that ache on your leg begin to lighten some, that pain shooting down it dissipating now that you hadn’t been standing on it.

It shouldn’t be that bad, not really, you’d snagged it along the edge of something sharp when that demon had thrown you with so much as a flick of her hand. You were sore overall, something a hot bath might help with when you make it back to the bunker. But you’d yet to see your leg, to see just what damage lay beneath your jeans.

“You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, pulling your attention from your thoughts.

You looked to your left, Dean’s gaze shifting from the road to look at you for a moment or two before looking ahead.

“‘M fine, De,” you murmur, that aching burn on your thigh threatening to spill over your emotions and give you away in an instant.

He looks at you again in a lingering glance, his lips pursed in disbelief, brows furrowing at the way you looked down at your leg with a frown, or the way you brushed your thumb over that very spot you said was nothing. He saw how your lips twitched downward in a deeper frown for only a mere second, quickly brushing it off with a sigh and a bite to the inside of your cheek before he looked forward once more.

You knew, by the light tension in his jaw and the crease between his brows, you knew he could see there was more to it than that.

After a moment or two you scooted a little closer to him, your hand grabbing his own. He felt the way you brushed your thumb along his knuckles in an absentminded habit, your gaze fixed out the window in an attempt to set your attention on anything other than the burning feeling that simmered on your skin.

It was okay. You were fine.

Your hand hadn’t left Dean’s nearly the entirety of the trip, something he noticed and something he didn’t mind, something that had him smiling softly at the mere thought of it. But something that was just as quick to steal that smile was the very look on your face each and every time he glanced over at you, a slight frown on your lips that you weren’t even aware you had, and that crease between your brows very much there.

You sighed when he parked in the bunker’s garage that night, getting out before he could come and help you do it. The look on his face was evident that he wasn’t happy with that, those dimples appearing by the corners of his mouth as he looked at you over the roof of the car.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, meeting him and Sam at the trunk where you’d grabbed your bags.

“You say that every time, sweetheart,” he counters.

“Maybe this time you’ll take my word for it,” you say, brows raised as you put your bag over your shoulder.

He chuckles then, head shaking as he closes the trunk. You tried your best to be convincing, and so far he hadn’t pried, but that very same feeling was back now that you were up and walking around, pressure back on your leg seemingly worse than before.

You found yourself grateful that Dean had chosen to walk ahead, Sam beside you, making it just a little easier to hide the change in the way you walked. Just enough to get you to your shared room without being terribly obvious. But it hurt, it hurt more and it was becoming increasingly more apparent to you.

You were home, and that’s what made things a bit better for you. You weren’t in some motel anymore, weren’t in the Impala anymore, you were home in the comfort of your familiar place with your room, your bed, and Dean. Despite the nagging pain wearing away at you with every movement of your leg, you tried not to think about it that much, and tried not to think about how it’d feel upon taking your jeans off. How it’d look given that you haven’t even seen it yet.

Dean dimmed the lights in the hall and bid Sam a goodnight like he always did, twisting the knob to your shared room and pushing the door open. Everything was as you’d left it just three days prior, the bed still made and ready to climb in and Dean’s slippers still tucked halfway under the bed, his pajama pants still slung over the back to the small desk chair.

“There’s no place like home,” Dean chuckles, sighing as he drops his duffel bag on the floor at the foot of the bed right next to yours.

You watched as he untied his boots and stepped out of them, unease settling over you as you took your own boots off, fighting the urge to scrunch up your face at the way your jeans pressed into your leg as you bent down.

You couldn’t hide this from him forever, you don’t think that’s possible when you really think about it. But you still weren’t willing to give it up, you could see the look on his face already if he knew. So, you bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged off your jacket, eyeing him with a soft sigh.

“I’m gonna go shower before bed,” you say, smiling when he turns to face you.

He simply hums, dipping down to kiss you.

“Don’t be too long,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back with a grin.

“Is it ‘cause you’ll miss me too much, Winchester?” You ask, brow raising in amusement.

You watch as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards, a laugh leaving his lips as he nods to himself, tugging back the blankets on the bed. It very much was the reason and he knew it, no matter how much Sam picks on him for it all in good fun, he just can’t help it.

“That’s exactly why,” he says, tossing a clean flannel of his your way along with a pair of boxers because he knows just how much you love to wear them to bed. Doesn’t even need you to tell him that very fact because he sees you snag a pair from his drawer every night without a care that he’ll see you stealing them either.

You stand there for a moment more as you look at him, your smile soft and fond as you hold the clothes in your hands. After that moment, you find it in yourself to turn on your heel and step into the hall, heading towards the bathroom. Your heart was bursting with the very thought of him sharing his clothes with you, of the very idea that he’d been so thoughtful, but the wound on your leg was making it awfully difficult to think about anything other than that.

You switched the light on and closed the door behind you, setting the clothes down on the counter. You turned the faucet on and stuck your hands under the tap, the water cold as it splashed across your face. It was a little more refreshing than you felt before it, soothing the fatigue that’d been settling over you only temporarily.

Dread simmered in the pit of your stomach at the thought of having to take off your jeans, but it wasn’t doing you any good to keep them on.

You exhaled a sigh, eyes squeezing shut as you hooked your fingers in your belt loops. It was fine until you got about halfway, and you found yourself fighting the urge to let out the cry that’s been sitting in the back of your throat, the feel of the rough material scraping over your thigh making it all the more difficult to stifle it.

It was then that you saw it, the blood smudged over your leg and the scrape that ran across your skin, angry and red as it tapered just above your knee. You ran your hands down your face at the sight of it, having been less than ideal but you knew it couldn’t have been good.

You kicked the dirtied jeans to the side in frustration, sighing as you opened the cabinet below the sink. You snagged the first aid kit and the bottle of peroxide just next to it, grabbing a clean wash rag.

This could have been avoided, maybe, but at that moment you were struggling to figure out just how it could have been. Demons were unpredictable, able to sense a trick with ease, able to tell when someone’s lurking with the intent to leave one less demon in the world. They give ample opportunities to be outsmarted, though, but this didn’t seem to be one of those times. There was no match for a human against the powers they hold save for the weapons that served you no use that day. You were thrown clear across the room without a beat of hesitation, something done with ease.

So maybe, just maybe it wasn’t avoidable this time.

You knew Dean saw it, he had to. It was more than obvious that there’d be repercussions to being thrown a good seven feet into a less than unforgiving cabinet. He knew you better than to believe that you were as fine as you say you were. He knows you like the back of his hand, can see your stubbornness from a mile away because he’s the very same.

You wet the wash rag at the sink, taking a seat on the bench by the showers. You began to blot away the blood, nose scrunching and eyes squinting as the burn of the jagged scrape worsened from it.

It was then that there was a knock on the door, a more than familiar voice on the other side.

“Sweetheart? ‘M coming in, I forgot to—”

Your eyes widen as the door opens, gaze meeting green eyes before his stare shifts downwards to the rag in your hand, splotches of a pale crimson staining it. They bounce to the source, to the irritated and red scrape dragging along the outside of your thigh, nearly classifying as a cut but not quite.

“Y/n.”

“Dean, it’s not—”

“What, ‘it’s not a big deal’?” He says, anger seeping into his tone. Not at you, never. It was when he thought back to that hunt that has him angry.

“Dean,” you sigh.

He’s quick to cross the tiled floor, kneeling in front of you. He nudges your knee with his hand gently, the tips of his fingers brushing along your skin. You saw the crease between his brows deepen, lips parted as his eyes bounced over the entirety of the wound on your leg. You can see the way his jaw tenses, tight and unwavering and if it were possible, steam would be coming out of his ears at that moment.

“Damn it, Y/n,” he says quietly, a frustrated huff leaving his lips. “You didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to freak out,” you reason, brows furrowing as you tilt your head to the side slightly.

His gaze narrows up at you in disapproval, your reasoning something that was near laughable to him, you even knew it was ridiculous too the moment the words fell from your lips.

“You can bet I’ll freak out,” he says, his chuckle humorless as he runs his hand down his face. “This is exactly why I didn’t want us to split up.”

“Well, we did.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you, breathing out a huff through his nose. He was upset more than anything, with himself you could tell, could see the frown on his lips as he grabbed the wash cloth from your hand and picked up where you left off.

He was gentle as he wiped away the dirt and blood smeared around it, more so than you despite the white-knuckled grip he’s got on the tattered cloth. You tried to keep your attention on anything else, anything other than the way your leg had been so sensitive even the most mild of touches as hurt. You tried to keep your gaze on him, distract yourself with the abundance of freckles speckled across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks.

They were easy to distract yourself with on any given occasion, on times where you didn’t need to be distracted, when you shouldn’t be. But for the life of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to get lost in counting them this time, not with the numbing pain serving as a painful way of keeping you fixated on just that.

“You should have told me,” he says quietly, residual anger still wrapped around his tone with the softness of his words. But he was more concerned than angry.

You puffed out a humorless laugh through your nose, your grip on the bench you sat on tightening some. “I’m not exactly jumping at the idea of running to my boyfriend every time I get hurt on a hunt.”

Your tone is frustrated, embarrassment simmering in the pit of your stomach over the current situation you were in, not to mention the way it happened. You’d never get taken seriously if you ran and cried to Dean each and every time you got hurt. You barely felt like an adequate hunter as it is, you didn’t want to add to it. You would have been fine if he hadn’t seen it.

“Y/n, this isn’t some puny little paper cut, okay? This is way different than just slapping a bandaid on it and kissin’ it better.”

“I said I’m fine, Dean,” you say, jaw tensing as you look away.

You hated the way your voice was beginning to falter, swallowing thickly in hopes to push down the persistent lump in your throat. Now was not the time to cry, not in front of him. That would only make matters worse and you don’t think you could handle that.

“It doesn’t make you weak to ask for help, not even a little bit. You don’t have to play the tough guy act all the time.”

You stay quiet as you continue to look away from him, the pressure building behind your eyes. When you glance down you see he’s got that dreaded bottle in his hand, popping the cap open with his thumb. He’s hesitant as he tips the bottle, the clear peroxide having poured steadily over every inch of the wound on your leg, bubbling and stinging the moment it touches the damaged skin.

You felt your lip begin to quiver, near uncontrollable as it throbbed and burned, the pain worse than you thought as you bit down on your lip. It was almost unbearable, a numbing kind of pain that brought heat to your cheeks and quickened your heart. That pressure behind your eyes increased then until you just couldn’t handle it, lip free from your teeth as you hid your cry in your shoulder.

But it turns out, you’re not that good at hiding, not from Dean Winchester. Not that it was very hard to notice either.

He stopped immediately, gaze flickering to you, cheeks wet with hot tears and lip quivering in a way that tugged at his heart. His hand settled on your cheek, a gentle nudge to get you to look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, the fond nickname something that makes you cry all the more in that moment.

You wrap your arms around him and he settles back a bit as he holds you closer, brows furrowed and jaw tense because seeing you so upset is one thing he can’t handle. Seeing you cry is something that tears him to shreds every time.

His grip on you is tight, his stubble pressing into the side of your neck. He’s cautious of bumping your leg, his throat clearing to try and stave off that pressure constricting around his throat from that very same lump forming as it did you. You could feel the kiss he pressed to your cheek, one to your temple, lingering and sweet. Dean Winchester could be the gruffest man anyone’s ever seen, but he’s got the softest heart, and if there’s one thing he can do without fail it’s comfort.

He finds himself pulling back when you loosen your grip, lip still wobbly as ever as you look at him with glossy eyes. You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, cheeks that burn with embarrassment for crying even though he didn’t mind it in the slightest. He didn’t mind the tears on his shirt, didn’t mind the snot to go with it. That’s the least of his concerns, they all pale in comparison to you.

“It hurts,” you whisper, your gaze shifting to his at the feel of his hand on your cheek, calloused and warm.

“I know it does, baby. Hell, I couldn’t even imagine what that feels like,” he says, smiling softly. “But ‘m almost finished and the ugly part is over, I can promise you that. You just gotta let me take care of you, okay?”

You nod, the patience in his words having set you at ease as you sniff, wiping your tears once more when his hand falls from your face in favor of sorting through bandages. He comes up with a few cotton pads, laying them over the length of the freshly cleaned wound as you sit there, still sniffling from having cried.

He’s more than careful as he takes the roll of gauze and wraps it around your thigh, securing the bandages completely with care to not make it too tight before he tucks in the loose end.

“You’re good as new, sweetheart,” he says, looking up at you.

You flash him a look, biting the inside of your cheek as you laugh softly, not quite humorous. “I’d hardly call it that.”

You’re grumbling, but he takes that hint of a smile as a good thing, standing halfway to press a kiss on your cheek and one to your lips, another to your forehead as his hand brushes over your cheek before he stands fully and swipes the clean clothes from the counter.

You stand with a look of unease, trying your best to keep the pressure on your good leg before that dreadful pain can jolt up your other. You shrug off your shirt in favor of his flannel, the soft material hanging loosely from your shoulders in a heap of warm and fabric softener and a hint of his cologne. It’s a simple thing that amounts to more comfort than you can express, the mere feeling of it putting you at ease.

He helps you with your pajama bottoms, trying not to fuss over you as you did it yourself, instead offering his arm for your balance that you found yourself needing more than you thought.

Your bed was more comfortable than you’d imagined coming home to, leaps and bounds better than that motel mattress. The sheets were soft and they too smelled like Dean, the blankets warm and hefty as they rested over top of you.

Dean brought you close enough to nearly share a pillow, the events transpiring earlier that day on the hunt having sunken deep in the pit of his stomach and simmered there, bringing with it that anger that hadn’t quite left. It made his stomach twist and churn each and every time you got hurt, the blame he put on himself having picked at him every single time without fail. Especially when it brings you to tears, especially when it’s got you so bothered it’s got you crying into his shoulder.

He hates it, he hates that part of hunting.

But regardless, those kind green eyes meet your gaze as he looks at you with a soft smile, his fingertips brushing along your cheek. He’s got that look on his face, one that’s telling of something humorous sitting on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be spoken.

“What, De?” You sigh, feeling the residual tension of your tears beginning to dissolve just a little more.

He chuckles, looking down for a moment as he shakes his head. “If I were you, ‘think I might’ve cried way sooner than you did.”

You roll your eyes then, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Dean, that’s a lie and you know it.”

“Is not,” he insists, lips pursed to stifle his smile.

You look at him, tired and amused as you make no effort to hide your smile. He’s got that smile, that one that makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter every time he looks at you like that.

“Whatever you say, Winchester,” you sigh, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

You find yourself lying atop his chest as he turns the tv up a little bit more, his chuckle rumbling against you. He tossed the remote down, the very tip of your finger tracing over his chest. Your legs tangle with his own, your injured one on top as you turn a bit more on your side. He’s got reruns of your favorite show on because he knows you’re too tired to watch the new ones, knows you like to have it on when you fall asleep.

“Goodnight, De,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his chin before sinking back down on his chest.

He smiles in that moment, soft and sweet as his thumb brushes back and forth over your shoulder lightly.

“Night, sweetheart.”

You’re fine. You’ve got him and you’re okay.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

#dean winchester #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction

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midnightbabylon · 3 years

Text

Somebody To Love

summary: It wasn’t long ago that Bucky Barnes ripped your heart out of your chest with the sentences, ’I can’t have a relationship with everything that’s happening in the world right now. I’m sorry." That’s why you were most shocked when you moved back into the Avengers estate and saw Bucky with a really pregnant woman in his arms.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: heartbreak

A/N: This is based on this quote from One Republic- Somebody To Love - “I used to be your focus, now you don't even notice, When I leave the room”

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

A sea of red roses adorned the cemetery. The sky was covered with dark clouds. Your black shoes were splashed with dirt by the rain. Tony Stark held the umbrella over your head as you watched your mother’s coffin get dropped into the ground. You started sobbing and he pulled you into his arms without a word. It felt like an eternity until you stepped into the Audi A8 as if in a trance. As soon as your friends learned that the only person you had left after the blip had died, they brought you back to the Avengers estate. Your mother was the most important person in your life. Now she could never hold her grandson in her arms or lead you down the aisle. Well, that possibility, had been done almost a year ago anyway. The love of your life, James Buchanan Barnes, had ripped your heart out, trampled on it and spit on it. Instead of proposing to you, like you thought, he had heartlessly dumped you. Then why take a romantic holiday and finally a week without calls, or try to save the world? You’ve been asking yourself that question ever since. You were more likely to have left and moved back to your mother. Secretly and quietly, you had packed your things from the Avengers estate and never looked back until now. In that time, you only had your mother, no one else. You didn’t need anyone else either. You always thought it was forever. Him and you. After all, you spent almost six years of your lives together. You have survived several wars and battles on Earth and in space. And the feeling of holding you back after he was gone by the blip was indescribable. It took a long time to get over him, only to come to the realization that you will always love him. You had plans for the future, thought about marriage, kids and a house of your own with a cat. But apparently, from the vacation in Hawaii, it was just your plans. He was the only one who didn’t come to check on you. Even Thor came by with a pizza to distract you until Tony suggested to bring you back. So it wasn’t a suggestion, it was more like packing up your things and you. You weren’t an important part of the team. Just a little agent with more technical know-how than martial arts. Still, you were special because you had such a big heart for everyone. So it wasn’t a big surprise to the Avengers that you put a smile on the face of that bad-tempered soldier the second he met you. You were the only person who could soften the cold-hearted man.

Even on small missions, he was at your side as soon as he heard on the radio that you were hurt. Even in the kitchen he didn’t waste a second to get the first aid kit. “It’s just a small cut, Bucky, it’s nothing.” The kitchen towel on your hand kept blood from dripping to the floor. You got nauseous at the sight of blood, so he raised your chin with his finger so you could look at him. “I take care of you. I will always take care of you.” This memory flooded your brain as you entered the familiar common room looking into the kitchen area. How much time you spent here together. For hours you could sit next to each other in silence and read or he showed you classics from his time. He even taught you to dance to the music of the ’20s. Your fingers stroked over the fabric of the yellow couch before you sank into the soft leather seat. “The past is the past.“ your voice was as quiet as a whisper. “But the past is experience. You should be grateful for it.” A beautiful dark-haired woman suddenly stood next to you and sat down in the brown chair next to you. Her face was as pure as baby skin and her brown eyes sparkled in the shallow light. Surprised, you pulled your eyebrows together. “Oh, sorry, I’m Willow. Nice to meet you.“ she held out her perfectly manicured fingernails to shake your hand. You looked down at her hand and then you passed it on her white shirt. Willow was pregnant, very pregnant. “Oh wow congratulations.” Pretending joy became easier and easier for you. Unfortunately, you still didn’t know who the hell she was. “Y/N. Here you are, I searched the whole house for you.” Sam entered the room, but his attitude changed when he noticed Willow. “Come, I want to show you something.“ he pulled you up and out of the room too fast for your taste. “Who was that?” you asked as he led you in the direction of your old room. The room door at the other end of the hallway opened and a familiar figure stepped out. The air came out of your lungs and your heart rate accelerated. You felt the panic attack growing inside you. Behind you there was the sound of the door opening and suddenly you were alone in the room. In the hallway, Sam stood in front of the door, protective mode. “Barnes.“ he nodded as the broad, handsome man walked down the hallway. Breathing was hard for you as you slowly sank to the ground. He was still here. Old scars ripped open more violently than ever before. How could he just go on after all this time? After Sam gave you a few more minutes, he came to you and held you tightly. Sam was the only one who penetratingly contacted you after the blip. Whether you answered or not, he was still there for you in some way. He sent pictures of everything and postcards. Admittedly, you always had to smile at those times and think about the good times at the Avengers. Sam was the best person you knew. You cling tightly to him as your tears slowly dried. “Fancy a cake?” You started laughing. “Can we take Natasha and Cap?” He smiled wide. “Sure." Catching up lost time with old friends is precious. The four of you ate about five kilograms of cake, laughed and philosophized. It felt like you’d never been away. The house was quiet when you tripped through the door. “Where is everyone.” Sam shouted through the hallways, spinning. Banner and Peter found her cooking tacos in the kitchen, and Scott, Rocket and Thor were throwing popcorn around. The movie in the background was totally uninteresting for the chaotic guys. In the farthest corner of the room, you saw him. The lump in your throat got bigger and you felt tears filling your eyes. He had his back on you, but his presence was incredibly palpable. Suddenly everyone was staring at you and looking back and forth between you two. You felt like you should say something. Just as you opened your mouth, Cap beat you to it. “You should know something Y/N." A dull feeling spreads in your stomach as bucky moved. It was suddenly very quiet in the room. Nausea overcame you as you saw his metal hand lying lovingly on Willow’s belly. "Oh God." you breathed. It must have been a bad

dream. That just couldn’t be true.

Your feet automatically carried you to your room. Jarvis locked all the doors to you and the pie from a few hours ago said hello to the toilet bowl. A few people in the hallway shouted your name, quick knocking on your door gave you a headache. He had started a family with another woman. He didn’t even notice you anymore. He probably hadn’t even given a thought to you last year. It wasn’t long before you sank into your bed exhausted. The following days you never left the four walls around you once. Any consume of the others to get you out of the room failed. Even when vision just came out of the wall. But instead of convincing you to come out, he sat down next to you and patted your thigh. “I can feel your grief." You sigh. “Vision I’m not sad.“ "Lie." he answered promptly. "What is grief, if not love persevering?" You looked at him. “When did you become an old wise man?” Laughing, you gently push him on the shoulder. “I never wanted to end up like this." “I know that, everyone else knows that and so does he. The situation was wrong from the start. Everyone thought he was proposing to you. When you and your things were suddenly secretly gone and he showed up with willow”... he sighed. “We’ve all been fooling ourselves.” Tears burned in your eyes. “He has made his decision." He patted your thigh and gave you an uplifting smile. “I believe, like everyone else, that you made him a better person. So now you have to do me a favor Y/N.” You looked at him. “Which one?” “Wake up...Wake up...WAKE UP."

Bucky’s blue eyes were full of worry. “It’s okay. You’re with me.” His cold metal fingers stroked over your round belly. It tickled and gave you goose bumps. “Is the little man awake now?” You smiled and put your lips gently on his. You share a wonderful kiss, and he felt one kick. “Oh yes he’s awake, sorry mate."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky fic #bucky x female reader

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daydreamingleclerc · 3 years

Note

could you do a mason blurb where you get your acrylic nails done and when you come back home you both cuddle on the couch watching TV and he falls asleep because you are lightly scratching his scalp with your nails

love your work!!

as an avid acrylic nail wearer, this brings me so much joy at the thought of doing this to mase while he falls asleep 🥺

soothe me - mason mount blurb

“lets see the new set of nails then sweetheart,” mason cooed over the dinner table, holding his hand out for you to slide yours into. every time he asked to see the new set, you were always surprised, expecting him to forget it like all your other boyfriends had considering it was such a minor detail to their life. you slipped your hand into his, for him to see a classic french manicure but instead of white tips, they were royal blue with specks of yellow to honour this season’s chelsea kit.

“do you like them?” you asked, wiggling your fingers around in his grip as his thumb brushed over the smooth nail, long and elegant. “they’re the colours of the new seasons kit.”

“i love them, y/n,” he admitted, causing a smile to form on both of your faces. mason knew how much you loved getting acrylics done, and so he took his time getting to understand it and enjoy it, too, helping you pick out designs and colours to take to the salon ready for the next month’s style. “i love them so much i think you should keep them the same forever.”

you watched him as he shovelled spaghetti into his mouth, sucking the stringy pasta up into it which in turn caused a splash of pasta sauce to erupt across his cheeks, but it didn’t bother you because you were just as messy. “what happens when next seasons shirt comes along?”

“then you change the design to fit that one,” the smirk on his lips was second to none as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, while you just sat opposite him, laughing.

“you really are such a loser, y’know that right?”

“unfortunately, yes,” he sighed, “but i’m a loser that you fell in love with.”

once dinner had ended, the pair of you lay on the sofa and watched crap telly, mason’s head resting on your boobs as he began to yawn and stretch consistently to the sound of the show playing aimlessly in front of you. delicately, you began scratching his scalp with your nails, the flat tip and sharp edges providing a sense of well needed comfort that he only found with you. his fingers traced shapes on your skin as he fought to keep himself awake, focussing on his fingers rather than yours.

“baby if you’re tired you can go to sleep,” you kissed the spot on his head that your fingers had neglected, “you know i don’t mind.”

“i know,” he hummed. “i just wanna stay awake so you don’t have to suffer the dreadful acting all on your own.”

the pair of you laughed, and despite the fact that you could feel a light ache in your knuckles from where you’d been scratching his head for so long, you continued. after several minutes, the shapes being traced on your leg started to stop, and mason’s breathing started to get louder and heavier in a sign of his inevitable comfort. you continued scratching at his scalp until you heard soft and delicate snores tumbling from his plump lips.

“love you,” you could hear him mumble through soft snores, telling you that he wasn’t completely out of it just yet, but that he wouldn’t be far off.

“i love you too, mason,” he hummed when you said the words, fully succumbing to sleep within seconds. you leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “even if you are a total loser.”

#mason mount #❤ i love him ❤#mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #this was so wholesome 🥺#hey god its me again #brb gonna manifest this <3 #money mase #my husband <3 #mm19 #one day my dream will become reality #i’m sorry it’s so short!#i hope you enjoyed!

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oedein · 3 years

Text

MUTUAL.

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader.

warnings: SMUT. mutual m4sturbation, cursing.

word count: 1.9k

MINORS DNI!

Bucky had stumbled into your apartment about an hour ago, all bloodied and bruised up. luckily most of it wasn't his. He had to stay behind because of a particularly rough mission going awry - even though he had planned to get home early. Of course, something bad was bound to happen, leaving his plans to go down the drain. His huffs of frustration and discomfort drew you into the living room, being met by him just as he went to sit down on the couch. You winced at the sight of him and hurried to his side, standing in front of him and reaching your hand out, resting it on his shoulder.

“Woah, what the hell happened to you?” You tried to keep a steady voice as you spoke to him, afraid that you would cause the already stressful situation to get worse. When you didn’t get an answer from him, you kneeled and tried looking into his eyes. Bucky shot you a glance, shaking his head. His legs bounced in frustration, shoes clicking on the floor, echoing in the silent room. There was no use in pressing him further for answers, so you settled with what he gave you. “Would you at least let me clean you up?”

You asked him another question instead, this time getting a verbal response from your partner. A single ‘yes’ left him as he shifted in his seat. His hand snaked its way up to yours as he began to get up, looking for physical support. You nodded back at him and stroked your thumb over his bruised hand, sighing at the sight of the damage. You got up after him and led him into the kitchen before you looked for the first aid kit. With both of you in the kitchen, Bucky was leaning on a table, getting his wounds cleaned by you, stood between his legs. You held a cotton ball up to a cut on his cheek, carefully patting away the dirt and blood. Countless apologies fell from your mouth every time he gritted his teeth or hissed as the alcohol bit at his skin. Once you were done with the wounds on his face, bucky looked down at the dirty cotton balls discarded to the side, before looking back over at you. You watched as he got ready to say something. “Thank you,” he finally spoke again, “for cleaning me up and everything.” His voice was quiet and soft, almost inaudible. But you caught it, smiling up at him. He let his face break out into a soft smile as well before he carefully reached out, resting his hands on your waist. “Of course, buck,” you cupped his face in your hands, placing a kiss on his forehead, “you think I’d just leave you like that?” You snorted and shook your head. Bucky chuckled at you, leaning in for a kiss once the two of you calmed down. You went to pack up the rest of the clean supplies, putting them in the kit before you went back to bucky, giving him a light side hug. “Come on. let’s get you into the bath.” You hummed, nudging his leg, a tired smile washing over your face. Bucky nodded and hummed back, getting off the table and following you into the bathroom. He watched as you prepared the bath for him, getting towels and a soft cloth as the tub was filling up. Steam crept up and covered the room, a comfortable heat building up around you. Bucky started undressing, huffing as the dried blood on his shirt scratched against his skin. You helped him get into the bathtub, carefully holding onto his upper arm as he went to sit down. You tried to get comfortable on the floor beside the tub, a hand still resting on his left arm. You reached for a cloth and soaked it in the water, getting it ready. Reaching up to his back, you slowly rubbed the dirt off of him. You pulled the cloth away, squeezing the dirty water into the drain outside of the tub. As you continued to lather the cloth in soap and washing him, Bucky’s voice suddenly ripped you out of your trance, “Come sit with me?” he turned to you as he spoke, eyes scanning your face for a positive reaction. After a few seconds of thinking, you stood up, getting rid of your clothes. Carefully, you joined him in the tub, sitting opposite of him. You brought your knees up to your chest to hopefully give him more space, but he reached out, pushing on your legs, and tsking quietly. You looked away, visibly flustered, but stretched your legs out next to him as he wished. The two of you sat there quietly, watching the water ripple every time Bucky moved to wash himself. After you got comfortable enough, you sat up for a moment, scooting closer to him. “I’ll do it,” you held your hand out for the cloth, “I want to help,” mumbling, your eyes shifted all over the place, never focusing on one spot. Bucky huffed out a laugh, handing it to you and leaning back against the tub. You moved in between his legs, sat on your knees and ran the fabric down his chest and stomach. He let out a stray groan at the contact, muscles flexing under your touch. You closed the distance even further, your legs rubbing up against his thighs. The closer you got, the more Bucky would stiffen up, waiting for your next move.

You leaned over him in the bath, your lips barely hovering a few inches away from his. Moving in for a quick peck that soon turned into a hungry and heated kiss, tongues clashing against each other. A yelp escaped you as he suddenly pulled you towards himself, with your hands resting on his chest. Legs tried to settle at either side of him. Water sloshed around you from the force of him pulling you and hit the ground with loud splashes. Bucky reached down towards your stomach with his hand, letting it slide down your body slowly. He watched you intently as you twitched when his hand kept going south. When he reached your crotch, he stopped before placing his palm against your member, pushing it up against your stomach. You plopped your head down on his shoulder, letting a moan slip from your lips as his fingers stroked down your length. Your arms laid limp against his chest, goosebumps running down your body as he kept moving his hand, teasing you. Your hips bucked up against his hand as you started getting impatient. Bucky chuckled at you and he nuzzled his face into your shoulder. “Getting that excited already?” His hot breath fanned against your ear, and his teeth grazed your skin — certainly not helping you out. Only incoherent words and whines left your mouth, as you were trying to form a sentence. He took ahold of your hand, moving it underwater towards his crotch. “Hey, look at me,” Bucky whispered, pushing himself up and fully setting you on his lap.

Slowly, you followed, sitting up and looking back at him. His eyes burning holes into you, watching your every move. Your hand slinked down and pressed against his member, pumping his length at a slow and steady pace. He threw his head back and let out a husky moan, the noise echoing around you. Bucky pushed himself up against your hand and reached out for your cock. Your head dropped down, eyes squeezing shut as he started touching you, rubbing his thumb against your sensitive tip. You jolted forward at the contact, your member brushing against his.

Both of you groaned as you started grinding against him, hand still firmly holding on to, and pumping his cock. As quickly as you started, Bucky took the lead. He placed his hand around yours and wrapped them around both of your members, stroking them. “You’re doing so good,” he groaned, nudging his forehead against you, “You feel so good.” His voice was gruff. You could feel it rumbling in his chest as your free hand rested on him, holding yourself up. You rutted against him desperately, pushing down on him as your hands covered your heat. Bucky let go of your cock, grabbing onto your hips instead to steady you on his lap. “Ah..” you moaned out, throwing your head forward to look him in the eyes, “Please, Bucky..” you finally managed to form a coherent sentence as you grinded down on him in a frenzy. He brought your face closer to him, resting your forehead against his. He parted his lips to speak, but instead a string of curses and moans escaped. “Please what?” He inhaled sharply, “What do you need, hm? Use your words.” You captured his lips in a feverish kiss before you could speak up again, your meek moans mixing into the kiss. You squeezed your cocks together in your hand, earning a loud groan from Bucky as his fingers dug into your hips. “Hah... Hm,” your breathing was erratic at this point, and you weren’t able to inhale fully, “Please... I want to come with you.” Your cock twitched at the thought of finishing together, stomach tying itself in a knot and tensing up. Bucky grunted loudly at your response. Driving him into a feral state. His hand returned to your cocks, pumping at a brutal pace, now desperate for a release himself. Your whole body shook as you collapsed onto Bucky again, your hand trying to keep up with the pace he had set. His cold, prosthetic arm brushed again your shoulder and waist as he held you in place tightly, sending shivers down your spine. Bucky noticed that your body shaking and brought you closer to his chest, whispering in your ear reassuringly, “You’re doing a great job, you’re being so good for me.” His lips connected with your cheek, placing a lingering kiss on your skin. The knot in your stomach tightened and your arm gripped onto bucky for support as he pumped both of you until you finally released, letting out a lengthy moan and breathing heavily. Bucky rutted against you erratically as he released, throwing his head back against the cold tub. As you came down from your high, your body fully slumped against his chest, head resting against his collarbone. Bucky tried to control his breathing, removing his hand from your members, moving it so that he could hold onto you instead. “I’m so proud of you.” He mumbled into your hair, “you did such a good job” Bucky repeated his praises from before, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. As you worked on calming down, you closed your eyes, only focusing on how it felt to be pressed against him. Once both of you were fully back, you moved your head so that you could speak clearly, “We’re gonna have to take another bath,” you said, ending your sentence with a ‘hmph’, “plus, you need to be careful with those wounds.” You peeked up at him, taking your hand and placing it underneath his chin, tilting his head down towards you. You heard a chuckle rumble through his chest and felt his lips press softly against your temple, “Looks like it,” he hummed, “But you’re staying here with me.”

#bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x male reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #marvel smut #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader

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