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mionemymind · 5 months

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Blood Drive

Summary: While donating at a local blood drive, Y/n stumbles up the best nurse in town, Wanda Maximoff. Unable to get Wanda out of her mind, Y/n goes through a lengthy process just to ask her out.

Warnings: Fluff, Blood Donations, Passing Out, Needles, Happy Ending

A/n: Not gonna lie, I think it's somewhat getting easier to write kissing scenes but I still have to look at a tumblr post just to figure out the wording for it. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist

In an era of new politics, the Mayor of New York City declared that registered heroes of the city had to do mandated community service. This was a new mission to help build relationships between the regular folk of New York City and the heroes that harbor it. Because let’s be honest, having Hulk throw your new car at the enemy was not the best introduction for regular people.

Those who harbored powers relaying force or strength helped out in the trade industry. You’d often see super soldiers helping out in the demolition zone by crushing what was needed. Those with magic tried their best to help heal the homeless or aided at soup kitchens. Anywhere you can unconventionally help, the heroes did.

For Y/n, it was a lot of physically demanding tasks. Such as helping families move from apartment to apartment. Or helping police officers move accidents out of the way. Sometimes, she would even demonstrate how to safely carry a person through a burning building for the local firefighters.

Today, however, Y/n decided to do something different. Rather than focusing on the same physical tasks, she chose a simpler mundane task. “Hi there, are you here for the blood drive?” Y/n nodded in agreement to the receptionist upfront. “Just sign in for me right here. Have you filled out the online rapid pass?”

“Yes, I have the QR code screenshotted.” The receptionist smiled warmly. “Perfect. Someone will be with you soon. Please have a seat in our waiting area.”

Y/n walked towards the waiting room area. This was the fourth thing on her list of community service opportunities to try. She wasn’t quite sure if her blood was even allowed to be donated, having the super soldier serum in her surely could cause a reaction to a regular human.

After some tests back at the compound, the staff found everything to be okay. That’s how Y/n ended up in a place like this.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Getting up from her seat, Y/n followed a nurse in red scrubs to a different area. “How are you today?”

“I’m good. I'm a little nervous. I’ve never done this before.” The nurse led them to a private part of a huge common room. Multiple stations were built throughout with various people donating blood. “It’s okay to be nervous, but the worst feeling you’ll get today is just a small prick.”

Y/n breathed out slightly in relief. “Let me first get your basic information.” The nurse had gone over Y/n’s personal information but was immediately flagged by the date of birth. “It says you were born on April 2, 1917. It must’ve been a typo.”

The nurse almost changed it to 1971. “Actually ma’am, that is the correct birth date.”

“So you mean to tell me you were born during World War I?” The nurse was unwilling to believe the joke that was being played. Y/n could immediately tell from the look she gave. “It was the Great War at the time, but yes ma’am I was born in 1917. I’m actually a super soldier.”

The nurse went back to her computer and typed in more information to store on Y/n’s file. “Ah - I see. I’m sorry about that. There’s already a note on your file. It looks like your director has already approved your donation today.”

Y/n sighed in relief, while she didn’t mind explaining to people her situation of being frozen for so long, it was strenuous trying to get them to understand it all. The rest of the consultation went along smoothly as she gathered the remaining information such as Y/n’s hemoglobin and her rapid pass.

“Alright dear, let’s get you to a bed.” The nurse led them back to the common area where all the beds were laid out. “Just sit right here for me, right now we currently have a special volunteer today that’s helping out with the drive. She’ll come over in a couple of seconds to help you out. But if you have any questions, please feel free to let us know.”

Y/n sat up on the reclined bed and looked at her phone. She scrolled through her messages to make sure nothing important was happening. The sound of someone clearing their throat gained her attention. “Y/n?” As Y/n looked up, she could physically feel the moment that time stopped again. Was it possible that she fell back into the ice again? Surely she would feel the same numbness as before. But it was all different. Because from just one look from this girl would be enough to melt all the ice away.

Y/n’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with her. “I- yes, that’s me.” Y/n cleared her throat, embarrassed at the lack of composure she had.

“Nice to meet you today. My name is Wanda Maximoff and I’ll be helping you with your blood donation today.” All Y/n could do was nod as she further realized that the woman in front of her was the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda looked through her notes on the clipboard. “It looks like it’s your first time donating, is that true?” Y/n’s eyes remained locked on Wanda. It was embarrassing how much she couldn’t look away. “Uh yes. It is.”

“Do you have a preference on which arm you would like to use today?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “No preference at all.”

Wanda wrote down more information when a note caught her eye. “S.H.I.E.L.D. approval - are you a member?” Wanda looked over at the young girl in front of her trying to see if she could remember the pretty face.

“I’m one of their new recruits. Only been active for three months.” And suddenly, Y/n seemed to never mind all the questions that Wanda could possibly ask. If it meant talking to her, Y/n would oblige.

“That’s great to hear. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any powers that we should be aware of?”

“Well, I think you’re aware of my counterpart, Bucky Barnes. We both have a super soldier serum.” Wanda smiled at the mention of her old teammate/acquaintance.

“Interesting. How come I haven’t heard about you before?” Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she had managed to miss this girl for three months.

Y/n scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “You know how Steve was found in ice right?” Wanda nodded. “That’s basically the same situation I was in but rather than crashing into the arctic, I was in a freezer chamber. I’ve been awake for only ten months.” The shock on Wanda’s face was apparent.

“Sorry to keep asking,” Y/n never minded, “how has it been like adjusting back to the new life?” Y/n shrugged indifferently.

“A little rough. I do miss my friends back from my time, but Bucky has been trying his best to help me. However, he has been focused on helping the new Captain America, Sam?”

Wanda nodded, confirming that Y/n’s information was correct. “I do enjoy the fact that I’m no longer Hydra’s soldier though. More than anything, I’m just glad to have a second chance in life. Not a lot of people get that so I’m pretty thankful.”

Wanda digested Y/n’s words and was pretty enlightened at Y/n’s outlook on life. “Thank you for answering all my questions.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Now, let's get you set up to donate.” Wanda proceeded to bring out a couple of items from the nearby stand. On the table beside Y/n, Wanda placed various tubes and empty bags. Although it was nothing, the sight made Y/n feel slightly uncomfortable. It reminded her too much of Hydra’s labs but minus the dark atmosphere and torture that came with it.

As if sensing her discomfort, Wanda grabbed a disinfectant and started to disinfect Y/n’s left arm around the area inside her elbow. “Ya know, for being so nice and cooperative. How about you ask me a couple of questions? It makes the day go by faster.”

Bringing herself out of her internal thoughts, Y/n asked the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the Scarlet Witch, right?”

It was Wanda’s turn to blush. She hadn’t expected Y/n to recognize her so quickly, especially since she just got back to the real world. “I am.”

“I wasn’t aware that you could help with the American Red Cross as part of your community service.” Wanda grabbed a marker and a squeezable toy. She placed the toy in Y/n’s left hand stating, “Give me three big squeezes and hold on the last squeeze.”

While pressing around Y/n’s elbow, she continued with, “I had to do some training to get qualified. A lot of the people who use magic generally help in other areas.” Wanda marked a dot followed by a line. “You can stop squeezing now.”

“I’m gonna disinfect one more time and then I’ll have to poke you. Are you scared of needles?” Feeling more embarrassed, Y/n looked away as she said, “Yes.”

“All good. Just means I’ll have to give you a small distraction.” Wanting to distract herself even more, Y/n asked, “Why did you decide to do this rather than something in your wheelhouse?”

Wanda thought about it before replying with, “I like the normalcy of it. On the plus side, it feels more rewarding. Like I’m actually earning my community time rather than going the easy way of using my powers.” As Wanda finished disinfecting, she blew on Y/n’s elbow hoping it would dry fast.

“When I give you the go-ahead, I’ll have to ask you to give me three more squeezes and hold on to the last one, okay?” Y/n nodded and waited for the signal.

“And - go.” Y/n did as told, but as she did her last squeeze and held, red wispy magic flowed in front of her morphing into swirls in the air. “Woah.” She followed the magic with her eyes, not even noticing that Wanda had already poked her and started the transfusion.

“Should be about 10 minutes. Every couple of seconds give the toy a small squeeze to keep it going.” Y/n glanced away from the magic amazed with Wanda. “That didn’t even hurt.” For the first time in Y/n’s life, she didn’t scream when the needles came.

Wanda couldn’t help but keep the magic up for a little longer. The dopey look on Y/n’s face was something she didn’t want to go away.

“I told you I would distract you.” Y/n was at a loss of words. Her brain jumbled for anything but all she could focus on was that Wanda Maximoff successfully distracted her. She had a natural caring heart, something the media failed to show.

“Your magic is beautiful by the way.” Y/n savored the last few seconds of it before it completely disappeared.

Wanda’s magic has been called many things in life, powerful, destructive, and manipulative but none have ever said beautiful…till now. “Thank you Y/n.”

There was a small silence as Wanda stayed to make sure Y/n was okay. “I’ll be assisting other volunteers, but if you start to feel like you're fainting, just call me over, okay?”

“I will.” Would it have been wrong to immediately fake an injury just to get Wanda back? Possibly but Y/n weighed the consequences and none could compare to her. So as Wanda left, Y/n used her free hand to call Bucky. After a couple of rings, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Y/n.”

Getting straight to the point, “Is Wanda Maximoff single?”

“Uhh - I think so. She and this synthezoid, Vision, used to date but I believe they broke up a year ago. Why do you ask?” Y/n looked at Wanda who was across the room. Her radiant smile could be spotted from miles away. “Just wanting to gather intel. Thanks Bucky.”

Y/n hung up the phone, not caring about what Bucky had to say back. Her eyes lingered back to Wanda. No matter how much she distracted herself with her phone, her eyes always glanced back on Wanda Maximoff. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and all she wore was matching red scrubs. But everything about her looked and felt beautiful.

Little did Y/n know, Wanda was admiring her too.

The blood donation was soon over, quicker than Y/n anticipated. Wanda had already come over, stopped the machine, and disconnected the line from Y/n’s arm. She taped a cotton ball on top of the area she poked and proceeded to wrap a red bandage around Y/n’s elbow. “You keep this red bandage on for two hours and the cotton ball for four hours.”

Wanda grabbed a pamphlet that had Y/n’s personal information and gave it to her. “Don’t miss a single meal for the next eight weeks. Make sure to drink plenty of water as well. If you feel dizzy in the next couple of hours, be sure to call this number, okay?”

Y/n nodded. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment, trying to find ways to ask Wanda Maximoff out. “Do you have any questions for me though?”

Y/n opened her mouth, wanting to ask her, “Are you busy after this?” But nothing came out. And the more she tried to say words, the more silence that remained.

“Wanda!” The pair turned to the employee that shouted her name. “I have someone that needs your help after you're done with your current volunteer.”

“Understood.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. “We have snacks and shirts over there but I think you should be good now. Thank you for donating today.”

As Wanda walked off, Y/n couldn’t help but beat herself up for not asking. She took a couple snacks and juice boxes before walking out of the donation center.

Was Y/n in love? Not quite yet. Infatuated? Probably. It was the best explanation as to why she was back at the blood drive the very next day. The brown eyed girl paced around all night trying to think of ways to see Wanda again. And the very first realistic idea she thought of was to donate blood again.

The super soldier practically begged the compound to give her another approval to donate blood stating that her super serum allowed for faster recovery. When no one could argue with her logic, they allowed a special approval to donate so soon.

So when Y/n followed all the same directions, all the same questions, she was met with disappointment when she didn’t see the redhead that captured her mind. “Hi, my name is Lucy and I’ll be helping you today.”

As Lucy proceeded to set up, Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “Is Wanda Maximoff here today?”

The blonde shook her head with a small smile. “I’m sorry dear. She’s not going to be here today.” Y/n couldn’t hold back the frown that escaped. It was stupid to think that Wanda would come back the very next day, but she had hope.

And as much as Y/n wanted to ask when she’ll be back, she knew the blood center wouldn’t give out information like that. Regardless, Y/n was determined. She was going to see Wanda again.

It was a new month and a new day. Although Y/n was glad to help a good cause, her hope waned as each day passed with no Wanda. By now, everyone in the blood center knew Y/n by name. On the bright side, the other volunteers were not bad to talk to but none compared to her.

So as Y/n sat down once again, she scrolled on her phone, expecting much disappointment. Until the voice that captured her heart called her name. “Y/n?”

She looked up from her phone and saw that familiar smile that was ingrained in her head. “Wanda.” Y/n couldn’t hold her smile back as she finally saw the girl that she’s been begging to see.

“Looks like you’re here for you…18th donation? Look at you being a star citizen.” Y/n blushed knowing that those donations were mainly for something else. “I think by now you should know the drill. Are there any concerns you may have?”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, ready to disinfect her arm. “I-” Y/n’s brain short circuited at the feeling of Wanda’s hands on her arm. It was like everything that she wanted to say suddenly left her brain. But the feeling was just on the tip of her tongue.

“You know, they should give you a badge or something for donating so much. I didn’t even know that was possible. Didn’t you start donating like last month?” Again, not a single thought formulated in Y/n’s head when all she could focus on was how soft Wanda’s hands were. Because if Y/n was able to focus, she would be able to say that her donation was 17 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes ago. But who was counting?

Wanda looked back at Y/n’s chart to confirm her suspicions. “Are you still scared of needles though?” And that’s when Y/n finally got back into the real world. For all the times she’s been back, she’s had to look away from the needle while using a nearby pillow to control her nerves.

“I think I might need your magic again.” Y/n blushed at the request but felt proud at the smug look that came from Wanda. “I might have to start charging you for the show.”

With sudden blind confidence, Y/n asked, “Let me take you out on a date in return.” Wanda almost missed the vein at Y/n’s sudden question. She had an inkling that the girl liked her but never expected her to actually pursue her thoughts.

“You didn’t even need it.” Y/n looked down and saw that Wanda had poked her without realizing it.

“Does that mean you won’t go?” Wanda looked at the time on the clock and smiled at Y/n.

“It actually means you have three hours till my shift is up.” Wanda patted Y/n’s arm, reminding her to squeeze the ball in her hand. “So pick me up then. How should I dress?”

“Something casual. I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to do after you said yes.” Wanda blushed at the idea of Y/n practicing this moment.

“How about this? You and I walk around New York. I don’t think the guys have given you much of a good tour. So I’ll tell you all about the new New York and you tell me about the old New York.”

“You have a deal.”

Wanda and Y/n were in the back seat of an uber. The small date was something Y/n never wanted to end but the lack of energy made it hard to keep up. So when Y/n asked if it could be an early night, she was relieved that Wanda wasn’t mad at her.

Right now, the uber was at a stoplight and the two hardly spoke as their shoulders touched.

“Can I hold your hand?” Y/n whispered as she lightly placed her hand above Wanda’s. The small smile was hard to miss on Wanda’s face. She could feel Y/n’s internal battle to ask her that. She leaned into Y/n’s ear and whispered, “You don’t even have to ask,” and pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s cheek as they interlaced hands.

A small blushed and a wide grin appeared on Y/n’s face. “I hope you had fun today.” Looking away, Y/n yawned into her hand.. “You tired dekta?”

Looking back at her, Y/n tilted her head in confusion. “Dekta? What does that mean?” Wanda blushed more. She hadn’t meant to call Y/n that, but it left her lips so easily. Like it was second nature.

“I’ll tell you later,” Wanda placed her left hand on Y/n’s bicep and gave it a small squeeze, “Aren’t you supposed to be a super soldier? It's barely past 10 pm and you’re already tired.” Y/n scratched the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed at how tired she was. But all Wanda could focus on was the feeling of Y/n’s muscles as she gave one more squeeze.

Y/n yawned again, unable to fight the sleep that took over her body. “It’s what happens when you donate blood every day to try and see a pretty girl.” They hadn’t even kissed but Wanda could’ve sworn she was in love. The dopey smile on Y/n’s face would make any girl’s heart melt. The red head mentally thanked that it was her that Y/n was looking at and nobody else.

“You did that for me?” Y/n could think of many things she would do for Wanda, rescue a billion people, punch a hole in the moon, even kidnap someone. Regardless of how unrealistic it was, Wanda Maximoff was worth changing the tides on Earth. So how could someone so wonderful could ever question that someone would do something for her attention?

“I wanted to see you again.” Y/n bit her inner cheek, trying her best to stay calm but all she could think about was how soft Wanda’s lips looked.

The red head hadn’t meant to hear that thought, but she was glad she did. She bit her lip wishing that Y/n would just kiss her already. But something about the way they stared into each other's eyes was already enough for her to feel alive. And for someone so sober, her body grew drunk at the touch of Y/n.

“So you donated blood to see me?” It was still all unbelievable to Wanda but Y/n would tell her a million times until she believed it.

Their eyes interlocked causing Wanda’s breathing to hitch. She swore she could look into those brown eyes forever. “18 pints and counting.” Y/n couldn’t hold back her grin as Wanda looked away, unable to hold back her wide smile.

Y/n gave a gentle squeeze in their interlaced hands as Wanda turned back to face Y/n. “You’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep donating.” Wanting to focus on something else, Y/n caressed Wanda’s cheek as she tucked a loose strand back.

Not wanting her touch to go away, Wanda placed her hand above Y/n’s. So many thoughts ran through both of their heads. Wanda could feel the weight inside Y/n’s mind but didn’t dare to peak.

“Tell me what you’re thinking…”

“...I think you’re really pretty,” Y/n admitted in secret.

“What else?” Y/n rubbed her thumb gently across Wanda’s cheek.

“I think I want to take you out on a second date.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And I…I think I want to kiss you.” Wanda swallowed all the nerves in her chest.

“...I’d really like that…” And as brown eyes looked at greens eyes one more time, Y/n slowly leaned in and kissed Wanda. There was no rush with each kiss, something Wanda never experienced before. All she could remember was the sloppy kisses and fast make outs. But something about kissing Y/n slowly drove heart mad because how dare she live this long without being kissed like this.

And as they kissed, their hands never broke apart, instead, they gave gentle squeezes with every kiss. And when slowly pulled apart, Wanda knew then she was love sick.

Bonus

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky rubbed his forehead, feeling the headache coming forth, “Y/n passed out from kissing you?”

“Well, the kissing didn’t help but she also donated 18 pints of blood in the last three weeks.” Wanda looked at Y/n’s sleeping figure. Her head rested comfortably on Wanda’s lap.

Bucky sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you at her place.”

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #fluff #Blood Drive #mionemymind #wanda maximoff fluff

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helluvapoison · 7 months

Note

how would the overlords propose?

Say Yes

how the overlords would propose

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Carmilla Carmine ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Romance isn’t an afterthought to her, as hard as that is to believe. Carmilla is a very passionate woman… it just comes after logic. Whether you knew it or not, you’ve been put to the test much earlier on. (How you treat her daughters and how they like you is the most important part, if you didn’t pass you wouldn’t have made it this far)

By now she knows you’re worthy and she’ll bring you into her world permanently. Carmilla plans something intimate. She surprises you in her office for a candlelit dinner, courtesy of her private chef! She is a businesswoman first so she gets straight to the point and asks for your hand, literally, slipping the band into your finger.

“Marry me,” Carmilla says, uncharacteristically soft, “With you at my side, I will be complete.”

˚✧₊⁎ Zestial ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Telling himself there’s no rush, that he could wait a thousand more lifetimes to make you completely his, doesn’t cure the urgency to do it anyways. He’s seen any ounce of goodness down here nabbed before anyone else can take it for themselves. Zestial never claimed to be unselfish, only patient. He tests the question to himself first very early on. Then he phrases it differently to you or refers to himself as your husband to others. You mistake it for a slip up and smile anyways. A delightful sign in his eyes.

Zestial is pleased that you don’t suspect it. How could you when he’s merely being his usual, charming self? He takes you strolling down the same path you took when he first began courting you. Ever the gentleman, he pauses before the bridge over the river of magma and actually kneels.

“Would thou spend the rest of this infernal afterlife beside thyself? Say yes and I swear never to stray and never to allow harm to befall thee. Thou shall only know happiness from this moment on.”

˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Love at first sight doesn’t exist so do not twist his words when he says he knew you belonged to him the moment you met. Feelings were bothersome and you flooded his entire being with them with a simple gaze. Lingering between the emotions was always pain, which he was familiar with. Unfortunately for him, the cure for his ailment was always you. Marriage was not in the cards for either of you. Alastor thought he had no intention of going through such hassle until he couldn’t stop staring at the vacant spot on your ring finger. Bothersome.

Truly you had no idea what he was plotting. It wasn’t uncommon for him to bring you to his radio tower, going over notes with him or just quietly hanging about while he worked. He told you there would be a guest on his next show and he wanted to rehearse the questions. Simple enough. Before you even read the last one Alastor stopped you with a finger to the lips,

“Pardon my dear, you’ve been a wonderful co host— utterly indispensable these past few years— but that’s my line!” There’s a flicker of hesitation before his smile takes a slightly gentler form, a side of Alastor only you’re privy to, “Will you marry me?”

˚✧₊⁎ Rosie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

Since she was married a few times already, you thought Rosie would be over the whole thing by now. Well you couldn’t be more wrong if you tried! She adores weddings, from organizing them to being in them; the whole shabang is right up her alley! There was a reason her ex husbands didn’t work out but you don’t have to worry about the whys and whatnots. You’re oh so very special to Rosie, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing you!

The fact you think marriage is off the table has her giddy. She loves having the element of surprise! Cannibal’s left and right are in on the plot, making sure you’re exactly where you need to be all day long until you reach the town square at sunset. Crimson rose petals lead you to the gazebo where candles are lit all around your Radiant Rosie. She smiles so fondly at you it makes your knees weak as you climb the steps to reach her. She poured her love into two pages, prepared to make it her best speech ever but the second you were in front of her everything went out the window!

“Oh! I can’t wait another minute! Marry me, won’t you?”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ the vees might get their own part cause, i feel, they’re particular about marriage

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x you #carmilla carmine imagine #carmilla carmine x reader #zestial imagine #zestial x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel rosie imagine #hazbin hotel rosie x reader

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loafgeto · 10 months

Text

KINKMAS DAY FOUR: IMPACT PLAY WITH TOJI

synopsis | you just love toji’s big hands, especially when they’re groping your thigh, ass, or tit. it so happens that you get an idea of him using his hands and other toys when you both become intimate.

contents | fem!reader, she/her pronouns, explicit language, boyfriend!toji, established relationship. nsfw, use of impact toys (mostly paddles and bare hands), masochism & sadism, breast/nipple play, dry humping??, dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex (spanking, slapping, choking), markings, creampie, squirting, orgasms, pet names, dacryphilia if you squint. if i miss anything lmk

word count | 2.5k

notes | honestly idk how i wrote this like i felt like it sucked so bad

tags | @aydene @biscuitsngravie @homeslices @tiredkitten @get0sfav @erensflies @bleachisfood @witchbybirth (if you want to be tagged, just let me know!)

one thing about you was how much of a morning person you are. waking up energetically with no signs of exhaustion, draped in a bathrobe as you venture into the kitchen— not caring who you’d wake, and preparing the most delicious breakfast that your boyfriend can never deny not ever liking. another reason why you’re such a morning person is solely because of how your boyfriend approaches you when he wakes up.

toji’s not a morning person, never at all. ever since he dating you, he’s been forced awake with the sound of your noisy cooking in the kitchen. but he’s never too tired to slip out of the bed, drag his large body down the hall and towards the kitchen and wrap his arms around your waist. he’ll greet you with a kiss— on the cheek, neck, shoulder, anywhere he can possibly contact with his lips. he’ll pull you back against him, ass perfectly over the bulge of his pants while one hand goes to grope your tit. your boyfriend would gently knead into the fat, absorb your warmth into his body as he whiffs your scent. good morning, baby, toji would whisper— so softly that it sends you shivers down your spine. you love the feeling, it’s why you always enjoy your mornings.

the feeling of your boyfriend’s large hands roaming any part of your body steers you to an edge, and toji knows exactly where to touch that’ll make you pine whenever he walks away. the ache between your legs becomes too unbearable, and you’d forget about your activity in the kitchen to search for him. toji would either be on the bed, or couch, sometimes in the shower or sitting in a chair on the back porch— waiting for you. nothing else is said until you’re on top of him, sinking his thick cock into your heat. you two having sex in the morning was like a regular routine now, but it’s something you both simply enjoy and need to continue on with the day.

an idea struck your head whenever you felt toji’s large hands grope the fat of your ass, slapping the cheeks several times that had you wince— for some reason, you liked it: the sting, the picture of it possibly leaving marks after, and the way it causes your pussy to soak around his cock even more. toji’s hands are always roving around your body when you two are fucking, simply because he wants to feel your delicate skin. the idea you developed just so happens to cause you to buy several things online, not even caring about the cost.

it’s another morning when your phone buzzes, striking you out of the bed and out of toji’s arms. your boyfriend was half asleep, groaning because of the missing feeling of your body. but you’re too excited about the message on your phone that you don’t even acknowledge toji, and leave the room. your enthusiasm felt different this morning and it caused toji to jolt fully awake and aware of the situation. his dark purple eyes follow your figure out and all he ponders is what’s got you like this.

you’re this enthusiastic because your packages have finally arrived— the toys you’ve bought nearly a week ago. after retrieving them from the door, you bring the boxes into the living room where toji arrives shortly after. he’s still confused, having a hint of curiosity in his expression as a hand goes to scratch the back of his head.

“what’cha got there, babe?” toji’s voice chimes in your ears as a smile curves the corner of your lips when you’re cutting the box open. your boyfriend tilts his head when he approaches behind of you, watching as you take several wrapped objects out of the box.

“sex toys,” you reply when toji sits on the floor beside of you, crossing his legs while still observing them. “well, they’re a certain type of sex toy,” you add when you turn to toji, noticing his perplexed expression that obviously spoke out in disbelief.

“why do you need this?” toji proceeds to question, grabbing one of the toys which happens to be a paddle. he shakes it around, earning a short glare from you and chuckles. “well, it’s for us to try. i wanted to try something with you with these toys,” you reply, snatching the paddle from him.

toji raises a brow, maintaining his curiosity. “yeah?”

“use these toys on me, along with your hands,” you simply state, giving your boyfriend a smile.

“like— you want me to smack you with these things?” toji keeps his brow raised, snatching back the paddle into his hands and lifting it up between the two of you. with a nod, toji reacted quite— stunned. “didn’t know you were into that.”

“i just discovered that myself,” you reply, gently pushing the paddle away before climbing on toji’s lap. wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to you and he immediately expects a kiss. “you want to try it now?” a faint smirk appears on toji’s lips as a hand moves to grope your ass and you giggle.

“well.. not now, i still have to cook breakfast you know..” you reply, lifting your eyes to toji’s. your boyfriend chuckles, using his strength to lift you in his arms as he stands. with his hands holding underneath your thighs, he wraps your legs around his waist. “we can have it later. c’mon, baby— i wanna give your new toys a try too,” toji hums, huff following after. and of course, there’s no way you can reject that.

toji seemed to become more spirited now that he was on top of you, lips roughly moving against yours as you were pressing your clothed cunt against his knee. you can’t deny how alluring your boyfriend is— the way his words, his gestures, his damn gorgeous face drags you into a remedy of falling in love over and over. toji smiles against your lips, hearing your moans muffle into his mouth as he slips a hand underneath your shirt, pushing your bra up to knead the fat of your breast, eventually pinching your nipple.

“mm- toji~” you mewl softly, running your hands along his toned shoulder blades and down his muscular back, fingertips nearly pulling the material of his shirt. toji hums, a low coo, as he pulls away slightly. he begins by discarding your tops, tossing them side before attacking both your breasts again with his hands. the feeling of his cold hands absorbing into your skin makes you quiver, but the sense of his fingertips playing with your tits just gets that perfect moan out of you— just how toji likes. “need you inside me, baby- please.”

“i hear you, mama. be patient,” toji replies with a chuckle to your neediness. you squirm under him, continuing to rub yourself on his knee, stimulating your clit to make yourself wetter. toji can feel how soaked you were, even when your pussy was covered in thick laced panties. he smiles, watching as you’re fucking yourself on his knee. “my girl is s’needy, ain’t she? should i replace my knee with my cock now?”

“yes— please, toji! pleaseeeee, need your cock~” your whine doesn’t end when toji’s words struck you like a madwoman. your boyfriend eagerly pushes down his sweats as you slip off your shorts, leaving yourself in your underwear. “get on your hands and knees, baby,” toji instructs as he strokes his cock, and you follow his words— propping yourself up on your hands and knees, arching your back slightly as your hips grind back against him.

toji slips down your panties, leaving them around your thighs as he positions himself behind you, prodding the tip of his cock against your entrance. you moan as one of his hands grip the side of your hips, softly caressing the skin and tingling your insides. your boyfriend seemed to enjoy the fact that a simple touch like that gets you aroused— almost into a mess.

“tojiii—” you can’t help up continuously cry out his name until he inserts his cock into your sopping cunt, widening your walls with his thick girth and rubbing faultlessly against your g-spot. he slaps your ass— harsh, making you wince and instantly squeeze around him. “fu-fuck.. you’re s’big~”

“godddd, your pussy feels so damn good,” toji comments, throwing his head back slightly as a low groan follows when he pushes his entire length into you. he takes a quick moment to indulge the heat and pulsating clench of your cunt, groping and smacking your ass several times that it’d leave marks. “fuck my cock, baby. c’monnnnn.”

you couldn’t deny your boyfriend’s request and started moving your hips slowly, bouncing back against his hips and feeling his cock nudge your inner parts. with your moans muffled into the bed sheets, toji grabs one of the impact toys you bought— you didn’t know which, as your mind was occupied on his dick slipping in and out of you.

toji lowers his face to the area you two connected, chuckling quietly when watching your pussy glide up and down, coating his cock with your slickness. it’s always arousing to toji— to see his cock drenched in your wetness, to see you occasionally suck him in as if you’ll never feel him again, and to see you become messier and messier under him.

you gasp loudly when toji slaps the paddle against your ass, causing you to squeeze around toji tighter than before. he grunts, but a smirk follows as your pace begins slowing. “what’s wrong baby, can’t stand it?” toji hums, giving your skin another smack with the toy.

“n-no— toji, it feels so good—” you mewl, your nails digging into the mattress of the bed. you proceed to bounce your hips back, smacking against his pelvic area. each sting causes your body to quiver, mainly your legs, stirring the fog in your head that causes you to improperly think. “that’s good, baby. keep fucking my cock just like that— f-fuck, your pussy is amazing,” toji groans the praise, smacking the back of your thighs with the paddle that makes you whine.

the feel of toji’s hand caressing the skin of your ass after smacking it with the paddle brings a sensation of pleasure, seemingly that he was trying to ease the sting he inflicted. your moans plummet further out of your mouth, pouncing off the walls of the room as you bounced faster against toji’s cock. the sloppy sounds of your arousal audible in your ears, followed by the smacks of the paddle in toji’s other hand. it’s too much to bear— especially when his throbbing tip is fucking into your g-spot continuously, stirring you towards an orgasm.

as you’re busying yourself on his cock, moaning becoming breathy and trying to find your climax— toji’s attention becomes caught with the thought of himself becoming addicted to this situation. he smacks the paddle on your ass again, groaning when he feels you clench around him tight like before. he likes that— so fucking much.

“i’m sososo close— babyyyy,” you cry out as you turn your head slightly, face still pressed against the sheets as you profusely rock your hips. toji’s cock continues to rub against your g-spot, forming a knot in your core before you cry aloud, squirting all over him and the sheets.

but toji wasn’t finished yet— he tosses the paddle somewhere, lowering his body over yours until his chest is pressed against your back, and starts thrusting harshly into you. your eyes widen with the sudden movement as you were freshly out of your orgasm. your pitch of cries became clearer and tears began welling the sockets of your eyes.

“wa-wait toji—”

but your boyfriend doesn’t stop, using one of his large hands to grab your underboob, fingertips pinching your nipple while his other hand slithers down to your clit. his face falls next to yours, mouth near your ear and you can hear the faint sounds of his moans and grunts as he pounds into you. he’d thumb your clit several times before slapping the side of your ass, but his hips heavily ramming into you seems to be doing the better job. he’d ravel his hand around your neck, gently pressing into your throat before licking the lobe of your ear.

“mm- fuck, we don’t need the toys anymore, baby. i can just use my hands on ya now,” toji grunts, his whispery words purring in your ear as he smiles, hearing your moans stumble out as a response when he chokes you. his hips slap harshly against your ass, causing the bed to shake and creak each thrust he gives. you can barely formulate words as your mind becomes foggy, your tears now streaming down your cheeks.

“to—tojiii,” it seems his name was the only syllable you could pronounce at that given moment, legs weakening as his harsh slams into you increases. toji was reaching his own climax, stuffing his cock into your deepest part so that he could dump his warm and thick load.

he clears your tears just so he could see you form more and have them stream down your face again, grunting every moment you clench around him as he thrusts— deeper, and deeper. you don’t know how much you’ve orgasmed at that point: from enjoying his rough fucking to the stinging slaps of his hips and hands on your ass. a sensation you’re loving way too much.

“i’m.. cumming— again,” you state, slurring your words into the bed as toji’s quickly fucking you dumb. your eyes rolled back as you came over him, sobs of pleasures flowing out of your mouth as your walls flutter around him.

“good girl. cummed so much just f’me,” toji smiles, inching his cock deeper when he feels his climax reaching directly after yours. “i’m about to- cum too- fuck. i’m gonna stuff your womb with my babies now, yeah? would my pretty girl like that?”

“yesyesyesyes! pleaseee!”

without seconds of waiting, toji finally ejaculates his load into you— filling your baby room to the brim with his warm cum, having you mewl quietly as your legs trembled and slowly faltered to the bed. when toji pulls away from you, you’re left laying there— panting, sweating terribly, tears dried on your cheek and your mixed cums dripping out of your abused pussy.

the stinging of the paddle and his hips slapping into you gradually returning to your senses, and just as you’re about to turn around, toji decides to flip you instead to face him.

lowering your eyes, you notice toji’s— hard, red and swollen cock staring up at you as if he’s still got more cum to give you. giving him a glance, your boyfriend just starts brushing his tip against your entrance leaking with his cum.

“don’t worry doll, it’s only 9:34. we have all day.”

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: sooo sorry for the delays! been working on my final projects for my classes but i’m officially exam and college free (as of now) AND IM GOINGGGG HOMEEEEEEE so excited to publish more <3

#loafgeto #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji oneshot #jjk oneshot #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #18+ minors dni

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vidavalor · 6 months

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The romantic implications of improper use of apostrophes

A short, little meta on rings and apostrophes...

Ok, remember Mr. Arnold of Arnold's Music Shop and his thoroughly relatable reasons for never wanting to go to one of these annoying Whickber Street Thingamajigs again? The second of his reasons, in particular? Note who the camera cuts to when Mr. Arnold brings up "improper" use of apostrophes:

Crowley's little eyebrows and squirming, as he is thinking about how he is guilty of improper apostrophe use just the day before-- "technically", as they'd say. Mr. Arnold bringing up apostrophes is a wordplay clue to hidden language-- "improper" apostrophes in shop signs, which is to say in shop language and names. There's only one scene in the series where that's a thing. It is also the only one that would justify the Crowley reaction shot in the Mr. Arnold scene... and the implications are pretty romantic.

It's this scene:

When Crowley adjusted the name of the bookshop when Aziraphale called from Edinburgh, he changed it in such a way as to denote a sense of ownership through use of apostrophes. Crowley knows that the place is really called A.Z. Fell & Co. and he could have said that or just his usual way of referring to the place: "booK.shoP." The choice to answer in such a way as to reference to whom the bookshop belongs when he suspects that this is likely Aziraphale calling is a nod to the our car/our bookshop acknowledgement that they have going on.

Because Aziraphale has acknowledged that the bookshop is theirs, it belongs both to "Mr. Fell" and to Crowley, but the wordplay joke is that, when spoken aloud, you can't hear where the apostrophe falls. (That you refer to where an apostrophe goes as to where it "falls" also makes this an even more amusing word joke.)

Meaning: Fell's Bookshop sounds identical to Fells' Bookshop... the latter of which would, of course, denote that the bookshop belongs to more than one person who happen to share the surname of Fell.

Crowley gets squirmy when Mr. Arnold brings up apostrophes the next day because he's thinking about how he was subtly referring to himself as Aziraphale's spouse when Aziraphale-- wait for it, my fellow word nerds-- gave him a ring (on the phone) from Edinburgh.

Aziraphale apparently heard it as intended-- or, at least is on the same page-- because, as we looked at it in other metas that I'll link at the bottom of this one, Aziraphale's use of "la jardiniere" in the French he spoke to Crowley ties to the French cooking term "a la jardiniere," which has a specific definition that resulted in Aziraphale subtly referring to Crowley as his spouse.

Aziraphale also gave him a flirty little smile and that knowing "but you understood me" after saying so, knowing that Crowley heard more than what he had translated back:

Not to mention to ring a bell... Crowley ringing the bookshop bell on Aziraphale's desk when he came back in 2.01; Shadwell on exorcising demons by "bell, book and candle"; God's cheeky interest in Pavlov's experiments in S1... the sexual euphemism that is to "ring my/your bell"... Mr. Arnold mentioning signs in shop windows and Crowley was looking through the window into the bookshop when Aziraphale rang the bell to wrangle the angels and demons, furthering the ring-related wordplay. A sign doesn't have to be paper hung in a window relaying information-- it can be your partner saying he's "had quite enough" and trying to take control of a situation. A sign of things to come.

I'll leave you with the paralleling scene from 1.01 when they first talk after having their romantic evening ruined by the start of Armageddon. Crowley gives Aziraphale a ring on the phone while what is in focus on Aziraphale's side of the conversation is his angel ring. When they meet the next day off of this phone call, church bells are ringing in the scene. Wordplay inspired by the visuals, as well as the first use of ring (phone, communication)/ring (jewelry) in the series:

I doubt it will be the last. 💞

Metas about Aziraphale's French in S2:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #aziracrow #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands speak

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januaryembrs · 5 months

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I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE | Marc Spector x reader

Request: @happyhauntt says - okay i am BEGGING for a fic based on the song 'forest fire' by brighton (be warned that shit HURTS) but i fully cannot decide between poe dameron, steven/marc or spencer reid so i am giving you full creative direction and i look forward to getting my heart ripped out!!

Description: Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realises he should have saved her.

length: 3.9k

Warnings: Heavy warnings for childhood / domestic abuse/neglect (both from Marc and also reader has a neglectful father) warnings for alcohol, the cave scene, drowning, death etc. you asked for angst, so I served!

authors note: sorry this took so damn long, today isn't even my day off and I have been too exhausted to even look at my computer, but I hope you like it!

Before Randall was too little to be part of his adventures, Marc used to play on his own in the yard.

Usually that entailed kicking a football at the wooden fence that lined their garden, trying to knock it off his chest when it would come bouncing back the way he’d seen the professionals do it, even if it had led to three milk teeth coming loose already.

But there weren’t kids on his street to play with, at least that’s what he thought until the one day he kicked his ball a little too high and watched it fly right over the top of the fence, bouncing into the neighbour's yard, a soft “ouch” meeting his ears.

In minutes, a little head appeared over the wall, beady eyes frowning down at him, and he realised it was a girl around his age, maybe a little younger.

“Did you lose this?” She held up his soccer ball he was worried he was going to have to kiss goodbye to forever, the small digits of her other hand holding onto the fence tightly.

“Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it so high,” Marc said, and with no more explanation than that, she threw it over to his side of the partition, and her tiny head disappeared back below the fence line.

He felt stunned. He knew there were moving boxes over that way a couple weeks ago, but as far as he could see there was only a man living there on his own, a scowl on his face most days. Marc had seen him shouting at the other kids on his block to stop riding their bikes in front of his house because it ‘upset the dog’, though Marc had yet to see for himself this canine friend he was speaking about.

But there was a girl living there! A real life girl who spoke to him; granted he had lobbed a heavy soccer ball at her, from what her distaste told him, and he wondered if perhaps, despite the grumpy look on her face he realised mirrored the man he’d seen living there, that she might like to even make friends with her neighbour.

“Wait!” He yelled, running up to the fence where she had slipped away from him, grabbing on to the top and pulling himself up to the point he was on his very tippy toes and he could only just about see her yard.

The grass was unkempt, which was odd because Marc’s own dad cut the grass every fortnight, and there were planks of wood with nails sticking out of them strewn across the side of the shed she had used to pull herself up with. He fought the urge to cringe in disgust, because there, looking up at him from where she was making a daisy chain in the long, dry grass, alone in a pink plaid shorts and a white, dirt stained top, was the girl.

“Do you want to play?” Marc asked, his foot nearly slipping under him where he was trying to rest it on the wood to take a closer look, “I have tennis, or swing ball we could play?”

She looked interested at the mop of curly, black hair for a moment, before she looked back at the house that he had still yet to see any sign of a dog.

“I’m not sure my dad would like it…” She said cautiously, almost whispering to him, picking the soil under her nails.

“My mom could come around and get you, she could talk to him,” He offered, because this was when his mother was still mom and not Wendy.

Before she had yet to flip his world entirely upside down with her cruel hands and vicious tongue. Before Steven.

She seemed unsure, biting her bottom lip and stroking her arms like she was giving herself a cuddle. But she nodded, looking up at him, and he tried to hide just how excited he was to finally have someone to play with.

“I’m Marc,” He said, grinning at her, his tongue poking between the space where his adult teeth were only just growing back in.

She told him her name back, and it was the first time he understood what a crush was.

–

“Marc, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” She said, grabbing his hand so tight he thought his heart might explode.

“It’s okay, we come here all the time, don’t we, RoRo?” He reassured, looking back to where Randall, now a few years older and big enough to play with them, held onto the side of the cave, his own face nervous.

“All the time!” The little boy echoed, because Marc knew he had a bit of a thing for her as well, because she was older and cool and smelled like a field of flowers and he hated seeming like he was scared, even though he was.

He was just a kid.

They were just kids.

And being kids, they stumbled into danger without realising it, not even when the rain started coming down outside torrentially and they had to pause their game of pirates to run for cover. They hadn’t expected, in their childish excitement to continue the adventure, that the water would start pooling into the cave; that it would fill up like a basin, whether they were in there or not, and it wasn’t until the screaming started that they realised they were in the kind of danger that required an adult.

Marc was the first one to get out, his hair soaked, his heart racing, and he used a grown up word he heard his dad use sometimes because he could have sworn they were both right behind him.

And if that had been true, then where were they?

He called her name, debated going back in there himself to see where they had gone, then he yelled for RoRo, because she didn’t seem to be answering.

And there was only silence, except a clap of thunder overhead that said the rain was going to get worse; was not going to stop for hours.

Which was when he ran to get his dad.

By the time Elias got there, his glasses wet and steamed, his thick thatch of curls too similar to Marc’s soaked through, all he could see was a head of hair peeking out of the mouth of the cave, and his heart sank.

He dragged her out of the dark water, arms under her shoulders as he rolled her on her front and started patting her back, trying to get her to spit some of the water out, because her face was ice and her skin was soaked and her playsuit was ripped from where she’d snagged it on the rocks.

Marc remembered crying into his hands, gaze flicking back to the cave to see if RoRo was right behind her, if he was just waiting to be pulled out as she had been.

But there was nothing. Nothing but rain water and moss and those damn rocks he’d been gripping onto not an hour earlier.

His heart leapt when she spluttered finally, after his dad had thrown her over his knee and taken to giving her a one handed heimlich right between her shoulder blades. She spat the water out, her body shivering immediately, eyes bleary as they looked around as if she expected to still be in that dark hole in the wall, and Elias set her down on the grass to go look for his youngest son.

“Stay with her, Marc,” He barked, uncharacteristically sharp for him though Marc guessed it was fear, and took off towards the cave again. Marc pulled her into his arms, and it was only then they started wailing together.

They sat there for an hour when the rescue team finally arrived, a medical team with warm hands and even warmer blankets ushering them to the safety of the back of an ambulance, and the last thing Marc remembered for that horrible day was sitting on the stretcher with her pressed against his side, trembling under the reflective wrap they’d been tucked in that made them look like baked potatoes, wishing he had never suggested they go in that damn cave.

–

“You’re leaving?” She said, her lip quivering, her eyes lined with tears. They sat on his bed, his duffel bag already packed, his acceptance letter burning daggers into his head from his nightstand, “Military? Marc, just think about this for a minute-”

“I have thought about it. I’m not some dumb kid making rash decisions, I want this,” Except he didn’t, not really. What he meant to say was he wanted to leave, to run away and never come back, but the idea of never seeing her again was too difficult to think about.

She thought about it for a moment, and he held her hand when he saw her face really start to crumble then. “If you go, I’ll have no one left. You’re all I have,”

He didn’t hide the fact he saw how nervous she was when Marc would pick her up from her house and her father would see her out the door, a nasty, inebriated glare in his eyes at the Specter boy. He saw all the times she would tiptoe around the floorboards, the way he knew too well, as if she was scared of what would happen if she took up too much space, made too much noise. Or when his mother had been kind, way back before any of this had happened, and had fussed over her pretty hair, had piled food on her plate because Wendy said she needed the goodness, she had locked up entirely and looked at his mother as if she was an alien.

Even now, when they were both seventeen, nearly adults in the grand scheme of things, he knew her father was cruel.

“I’m sorry,” He said honestly, and he felt his own throat clogging up with real emotion he only ever let himself show when he was with her, “When I get a place of my own, I’ll come back here, and we can pack your bags together, and we can live far away from all of this,”

And it sounded like he was spinning her a fantasy; which he was. She felt like an idiot for believing him, for flashing him a small smile and leaning her forehead to his which was the closest they ever got to admitting how they really felt about each other.

He wanted to kiss her then, before he left to start his new life, one where they could be happy together, and he made a promise to himself that when he came back for her that would be the first thing he would do.

He could see it now; he would be in some kind of flashy car with the top rolled down, a man grown from the regime and fitness they would teach him in the army and she would come running to him like an angel parting the clouds, like a dream that was finally within reach, and he would kiss her then, so hard it would make up for the time they had lost, the time they had grieved together, it might even make up for that day she nearly died because of him.

So he left her, that fantasy of coming back to her keeping him going in the months of training, during roll call and exams and the small, clinical portions they would serve him in the military.

But that day never came. Somewhere between losing himself to the alter that had formed and led a full life separately to his, between hiding Steven from the ugly truth and becoming a mercenary after dropping from the army, he tucked the dream away as a what if, and he didn’t return back to that house where his mother had caused so much hell.

Not until the second day of her shiva, that was.

“Marc?” He forgot how sweet his name sounded from her lips, and he hated to admit it in the middle of his drunken state, but he’d wished he’d never heard it again in his entire life.

Because the second his front door opened, and a woman in a long black dress, heels and lace gloves stared back at him with a face that looked similar to a girl he once knew, only a notch between her brows that said she had done nothing but frown for twenty years, he wished he had never seen her again.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he ever gave her credit for, yet she looked tired. Sunken. Like she had wept and screamed alongside all the frowning.

“Marc,” She said it more determined this time, pacing down the stairs to his home, her footsteps rushed and worried, “Are you okay?,”

He knew he must look like a mess. He hadn’t stopped crying for three days since he got the first phone call from his father in almost two decades, since he’d learned his mother had passed, and he was already a bottle of whiskey deep by the time he’d stepped out the cab onto the street he grew up on.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought she would be there. He guessed she would be far away from this place, just like he had been, in a mansion with a 401k and a dog and a neurosurgeon for a husband. She had always deserved it.

But here she was, grabbing the bottle out of his hand gently, rubbing a hand over his shoulder like not a day had gone by that they hadn’t seen one another, and it didn’t take him much convincing at all to pull her into a hug he had needed since the day he left.

“My mum’s dead,” Marc said, sounding like a little boy again when he wept into her neck, squeezing her body to his, and he felt her rubbing his back soothingly.

“I know, Marc, I’m so sorry,” She hummed, and she smelled like a fancy floral perfume he couldn’t afford to give her before, “I know you must be feeling complicated,”

He nodded, because he couldn’t have put it better himself. He felt complicated.

“I missed you,” She said, like it was a confession, and he cried harder, his face burying into the crook of her shoulder.

“I missed you too,”

“How’s Steven? Is he still around?” She asked, pulling him away to root through her pocket for the pack of tissues she’d kept handy for the day. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sleeved arm over his face to dry it even the slightest. He could feel his cheeks sopping wet from where he had sobbed in the back of the cab like a madman all the way here.

But she was still fussing over him, and she looked just as pretty as he had remembered her, sitting on his bed that day, if not only a little more tired under her eyes.

Ofcourse she had known about Steven. How else was he supposed to explain the times they would be playing boyfriend-girlfriend together and he would become a different person.

Sometimes Steven would remember her too, because it didn’t matter to her who he was, she was his best friend either way. He remembered a girl who smelled like summer, sitting on the swings and eating ice lollies together, taking it in turns to push each other, blue tongued and happy.

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replied quietly, as she handed him the tissues, “He misses you, too,”

She smiled at him with her lips pressed tightly.

“I take it you’re not coming in?” She said in a careful tone, and he shook his head quickly.

“No- I just can’t,” He said, tears welling up in his eyes in seconds, and she wrapped him in another hug immediately, soothing his hurt as fast as it had bubbled back up.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” She hummed, stroking down his back gently, and he hugged her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him together.

He opened his mouth to speak when his front door opened again, and he worried for a second that it was Elias.

Instead, he saw a girl no older than five emerge in a cute, poofy dress that met her knees, her hair tucked into a neat braid, lace gloves matching her own as she lingered at the doorway.

And perhaps the thing that struck him the quickest; she was the damn near double of the girl he’d hit in the head with his soccer ball in that very yard.

“Mommy,” The girl said in a gentle coo, her eyes empathetic as she met his gaze, more empathetic than he knew children could feel. But, he supposed, if she was her daughter then it didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

His best friend turned, her face smoothing out into something peaceful when she saw her little girl, and he knew then she was born to be a mother. Nothing like his own, nothing like Wendy, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

She was a mother.

“Yes, baby?” She said, half stepping towards her child as the girl stumbled down the first step towards them, and she was quick to swoop her into her grasp and onto her hip.

“I need to use the bathroom,” The girl said shyly, peeking a glance at him over her mum’s shoulder, and she waved at him with tiny fingers.

He waved back, even if the sight of her had dumped a bucket of cold water all over his body.

“Alright, baby. Just wait in the foyer, I’ll come take you in just a second, I’m just speaking to my friend right now,” She said, stroking over the back of the girl’s hair softly, and kissing her chubby cheek. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and her mum kissed her once more, plopping her back on the top step to direct her back into the house. And they were alone again.

She looked at him guiltily, stepping back towards him as she fiddled with her sleeves nervously, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get childcare and I don’t really know anyone in state anymore-”

“No, it-it’s fine,” He stammered, feeling her watching him for his reaction carefully, “What’s her name?”

“Dalilah,” She replied, rubbing hands up her arms to calm herself.

“Where’s her dad?” Marc asked, hoping he didn’t sound bitter, but the whiskey made it sound like a bite.

She shrugged, “He wanted the cars and the house when we split; I wanted her,” She said calmly, like it wasn’t one bomb after another to be dropped on him.

He knew nothing about her life. He had tried to run away from that promise he’d made her for twenty years, because he knew he would never be good enough for her; that he could never give her the happiness she deserved, even before he had become the Moon Knight.

At his core, he would rot her, ruin her. He would destroy her.

And yet hearing it was just the two of them alone, he felt like he could take out the piece of shit who ran out on them barehanded and go home to sleep next to her soundly.

He felt like perhaps, as much grief and anguish as returning back to that house had caused him, perhaps this was his second chance. His chance to be what she needed, to be something good.

He would be so good to them. He would give them everything if she asked.

“I’m not really in town much, especially with my dad still around,” She said, gesturing to where her yard still stood, full of junk and a dog that had supposedly been kicking strong for two decades, “But I would love to see you again. Lila has school most days so you’re free to come over any day of the week if you want it to be just us; I work at home,” She scribbled an address about two hours away down on a piece of paper, along with her phone number, handing it to his distraught face with a sad smile, somewhat hopeful he would take the olive branch she was shaking his way.

He took it with a nod, his bottom lip still trembling before he bit it hard enough to force it to stop. He would love to see her, if he would even allow himself something good. If he would just let go of the resentment for everything that reminded him of that time, he could see the two of them healing one another slowly, but surely.

She could fix him. And he could fix her. The way it had always been with them.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Marc said softly, allowing her to grab him tightly one more time, “I really did miss you,”

She laughed, not properly more like a sad breath out, squeezing him to her, “I loved you so much. I never let you go, you know that?”

He tried not to sob, almost holding her so maddeningly hard she couldn’t ever leave.

But he had to let go eventually, and he watched her walk back up the stairs to where his family mourned, her face glinting with something hopeful, holding a flashlight out to him where he was walking around in the dark blindly.

He tried to smile back, though he knew it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn't be truly untouched by the grief he wallowed in.

And by the time he got back to his hotel room, alone, even more drunk, Khonshu had another job for him that would whisk him away for two weeks. But he kept her number, the piece of paper gripped in his hand tight, like he was determined to keep his promise this time around.

He dialled her number exactly fifteen days later, his body aching, his nose bloodied, but something lighter in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again. The light in his dark, the girl on the swings he’d once pretended to marry during their game of house (the rings had been tiny daisy chains she’d woven together just that morning, their officiant was Randall who could barely ride a bike let alone remember the vows he was supposed to say.)

Only when the phone got put through, a different woman answered, and the light flickered back out into something cold and dark and vengeful.

“Oh, oh god, you haven’t heard?” He swallowed thickly, “She was hit by a drunk driver last week picking Lila up from school,” The woman, her cousin, explained, her voice teary and solemn, and he didn’t doubt she’d had to make a thousand of these calls the past few days, “They said it was quick, and Lila went fast so she wasn’t in any pain- and she was only in the ambulance for ten minutes before her heart stopped so she wasn’t hurting long either-”

But he put the phone down, his eyes wide, his body numb, his chest empty and lonely.

Because the very last bit of good in him was gone; because everything he touched was cursed and tainted from the offset.

It took what felt like twenty cups of whiskey for him to black out that night, he knew sleep would evade him, he knew not to even bother trying. And Jake Lockely woke up for him, something mean and hateful in the black of his eyes.

He didn’t care who, but someone was going to pay for his cielo being taken from them.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #moonknight x reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #jake lockely fanfiction #jake lockely x reader #steven grant imagine

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feralgoblinqueen · 4 months

Text

Silly Goose

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

MDNI please and thank you

Warnings: Dirty humor, mentions of masturbation, slightly dark humor if you squint.

A/N: Let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated since this is the first fic I’ve written and posted for others to read in years.

———

It started when you joined Task Force 141. Price had not considered adding another member to their already reputable team. At least, until your impressive file managed to come across his desk. Most notably the praises of former team and squad mates. You raised the morale of every company you joined as far back as your first deployment. Your previous CO could only sing your praises as Price sat and listened to him over the phone.

It was an easy decision to invite you into the team. It was confirmed to be the right decision a week later when he joined the four of you in the mess. You were in the middle of a story, the whole table captivated.

“So we had spent the last two weeks 40 clicks behind enemy lines. It should have felt like the return to civilization when we rejoined with the company. It didn’t.” Your hands punctuated your words, you were drawing in the attention of even those at surrounding tables.

“By the time we rendezvous with the rest of the company, our supply truck had been hit. Whole company on one meal a day until we could resupply with the rest of the Battalion. I knew my squad had hit its low. Everyone has lost their fight, they weren’t battle ready.” A big, easy smile splayed across your face. Price could feel the build up to the joke as he dug into his food. Him and the rest of the team remained quiet, waiting for what you would say next.

“Soap, what do you think Santa had in her magic rucksack?” You waggled your eyebrows. Their movement already earning a snort from Gaz. Price’s lips quirked up into a smirk.

“Uh… some extra MREs?” Soap was caught off guard by your question but you bounced right off, not drawing attention to his clumsy response.

“Close but no cigar. I’d packed my rucksack full of canned ravioli and porn mags. Nothing quite boosts morale like Chef Boyardee and a combat jack.” The corse words flew out of your mouth. It was evident that you’d served around men for a long time. The humor landing with the group of soldiers. Not only was your table laughing but those listening in around you as well. All except one man.

You had worked out years ago the quickest way to be welcomed by a group was to get them laughing. In school, in bootcamp, and with your newest team. Never making jokes about others or at their expense, that was your number one rule. Well number two rule. The number one rule was don’t eat yellow snow.

You easily joked about your own experiences or shortcomings. Joining the military meant you’d lived a lot of life. Life that was full of good and bad experiences. You made the best of them all and lived to make a joke out of it.

This was the first time in years, however, you’d met someone seemingly unaffected by your charm.

Ghost was stoic and cold. Eyes always watching you behind his balaclava, never showing the slightest hint of amusement. You worked overtime trying to get him to at least chuckle or to see his eyes to crinkle through the holes in his mask. Some sort of sign he at least smiled at your jokes. Any show of humor would do.

It was another meal in the mess hall when you tried again. Soap had mentioned some of the lieutenant’s deadpan and darker jokes. Maybe that was more Ghost’s sense of humor.

“So how are you still single? You’re a laugh a minute and you’re a good lookin lass?” Soap inquired, setting his tray down and taking the seat to your right. Ghost as across from you, shoveling food in where he had raised up his mask.

“Well I think it has to do with my line of work. You know how they say the surest way to a man’s heart is his stomach?” Soap noted the change in your posture. He’d picked up over the past few weeks how you sit up straighter if you were getting ready to go into another joke or funny story.

“Aye, I’ve heard that before.” He replied, a grin already forming on his face.

“Well I’ve found going through the ribcage is a lot faster.” You say pointed a finger gun at Ghost’s chest, as if to drive your point home. Soap sat for a beat before shaking his head.

“That was awful. LT, you been sharing your jokes with her?” He chuckled to himself, returning to the food on his tray.

Once again you stared Ghost down for the slightest tell. You searched his whole body for any sign of a laugh.

Disappointment grew in your gut as he finished his meal and left the table. You huffed, fork moving bits of food around your tray.

What if he just didn’t like you? That didn’t make sense though. Soap was a funny guy and Ghost got along with him just fine. Maybe it was more serious than that. Maybe he didn’t think you were needed on the team. They four of them had been working together for months before you entered the picture. Was it because you were a woman? You’d never had a negative interaction with him. He seemed immune to your banter.

“That face you’re makin’ is scary.” Soap nudged your side. A kind grin softening his features. You shook off your stress, shoving him back enough that his seat scooted.

“Sorry, that’s my default face while I’m waiting to receive more orders from the mothership. Mess hall interferes with the signal.” Humor was how you coped with everything. It’s how you deflected serious conversations. You knew you came off as simple minded and silly but you wouldn’t have risen this high in your career if that’s all there was.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal for you. One person not finding you funny shouldn’t eat at you the way Ghost’s reaction, or more so lack there of, did. You dwelled on it more than you were proud of. Some tender part in the deep recesses of your heart hurt to accept that he may simply not like you. That he only tolerated you professionally because his CO wanted you on the team.

As weeks went by the lieutenant’s response hadn’t changed. Any hope you had left that his reaction was just because you were new was dwindling fast. If only you would look for more than just amusement. You focused in on a sign of a singular emotion that you failed to notice all the others. But his team hadn’t missed it.

Captain Price was the first to notice the change in him. Ghost wasn’t one who usually socialized during meals, at least not on base. Since you joined, however, he’d taken more time eating. He joined in on conversations that weren’t just work related. Johnny noticed this and more, having more time to interact with Ghost than the captain.

Ghost’s eyes rarely leave you if you’re nearby. Upon approach he’ll act like he wasn’t watching you every move, usually picking up conversation with whoever he’s with or checking his watch. Soap had teased him for it on multiple occasions but Ghost always plays it off that he’s keeping an eye on how you’re adjusting.

No the team certainly hadn’t missed Simon’s big fat crush on their resident silly goose.

———

You sat on the couch of the AirBnB, watching Ghost talk on the phone with Captain Price. The two of you had been sent to observe a target who was fencing weapons for a terrorist organization. It had been a week and you had managed to find the opportunity to tap his phone calls and laptop. Besides that it was just a bunch of watching who comes and goes from his house across the street.

“Price is calling it. Nobody besides him has came or went from the house all week. We’ve planted our bugs so Lazwell can keep an eye on his digital footprint. There’s not much else for us to do here. We’ll leave at 0700 and no watch tonight.” Ghost announced, relaxing into the other end of the couch.

You nodded, turning your attention back to the TV. The only conversations you’d had the entire mission were work related. The voice of doubt in the back of your mind telling you that Ghost would only dislike you more if you tried the usual shenanigans without the buffer of the others around. The mission had kept you occupied but now that you had the night off that pit of anxiety deep in your gut came seeping back in.

You wanted to ease yourself by making a joke. You worked your bottom lip between your teeth. A normal person would make mundane conversation. Talk about the weather or ask if Ghost wanted to change the channel from the awful 90s sitcom. Anything to lift the awkward silence you felt.

Finally it came bursting out. You’d let your guard down just enough that the old habit slipped through.

“Hey Ghost, what’s red and bad for your teeth?”

You wanted to dig yourself into a hole. Of all the things to say, your brain spits out this joke. You expected silence or for him to tell you to knock it off.

His response was neither.

“I don’t know.” He gave you his full attention, looking up from his phone. Eyes already twinkling with amusement but you were too stressed to even notice. Suddenly the room was ten degrees warmer.

“A brick.” You waited for the silence. For an annoyed huff. You’d have to meet with Price and leave the team. Surely you’d never live this one down. Not when it was just you and Ghost alone.

A rich roar of laughter came from the other end of the couch. So much force behind it that your cushion shook. It didn’t last more than five seconds but you knew you’d remember that sound forever. Simon’s eyes creased so much from how big his grin was that they were almost closed.

You were in awe. You needed to hear it again.

“I thought you didn’t like my jokes.” You whispered, still in shock.

His eyebrows drew up in surprise. “You’re the funniest person I’ve met!”

You mouth open and shut not unlike a fish out of water. Confusion etched into every inch of your body.

“Then fucking laugh! Holy shit I thought you couldn’t stand me!” Relief washed over you like a warm shower after a long day.

Ghost laughed again, its warmth just as surprising this time as the last. You didn’t know when you got to your feet but now you were pacing. A barrage of emotions hit you all at once and you felt they might consume you if you sat still.

A large hand gripped your forearm, stopping you.

“When I’m on base, around those that aren’t my team, I keep up the image of ‘Ghost’. The mask, the stoicism, it’s all part of it.” He explained, turning you to face him.

A small, satisfactory smile crept onto your lips.

“So you’re telling me I just made ‘The Ghost’ laugh at a dumb joke I heard in elementary school?”

Ghost shook his head, hand releasing your wrist. His eyes were suddenly very gentle while he looked at you.

“No, you just made me laugh.” Hands pulled the balaclava over his head as he spoke. You froze, watching in awe. He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair before looking up at you. “Without the mask I’m just Simon.”

Your mouth acted faster than your brain, per usual. There was no time to stop the words that flew out.

“It’s so not fair that you get to be mysterious AND hot.” You slapped your hands over your mouth.

Simon laughed again. This time his expression in full view for you to see. Your embarrassment lost as you drank in the sight of him. Brown eyes crinkled with amusement and his pink lips grinning easily.

“So you think I’m hot?”

“Shut up, I think I’m working through the stages of shock right now.” Your sarcasm and humor on full autopilot as your brain worked overtime to process all this new information. Another laugh blessed your ears.

“I know how you can shut me up.” Simon smirked, eyes full of mirth as he leaned back into the couch.

“I’m sorry, did you just flirt with me? Let a girl catch her fucking breath for…” You couldn’t finish your sentence. Simon had pulled you down and captured your mouth with his. Your lips moved in time, tongue slipping into his mouth once you’d both relaxed.

When you pulled apart the two of you spent the night talking. Having conversations about everything and anything. And you made him laugh so much his sides hurt. He didn’t mind. It felt good to relax this fully with someone. He loved the way you’d light up as he laughed, wanting to keep that expression on your face.

And he would, as often as he could, for the rest of your lives.

#cod #cod mw2 #modern warfare #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #modern warefare 2 x reader #y/n #reader insert #reader imagine #cod imagine #ghost imagine #simon riley imagine

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apocalypse-shuffle · 3 months

Text

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (batman:under the red hood | canon divergence?)

—

“Co-opt #1 - Fire Escape Rendezvous 1/?” (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

| You’d thought the man you were talking to was just uninterested and biding his time. That is until one thoroughly fucked up Red Hood falls from the sky early one morning and becomes a more pressing issue.

| SFW, serious injury, drugged & mentally compromised, late night conversations, idealogical debate, canon typical violence, mentions & descriptions of death/killing, -panicked!reader

| pics via: Batman: Under The Red Hood tpb

| content apart of the co-opt series

| 2k+ words

Beg. NOTES: This first chapter is a lot of establishing the universe and background information, so yeah.

‘I officially live in hell,’ you think idly over the crackle of the television and the almost imperceptible sound of your electric kettle boiling water.

One emergency evacuation of the mall, a slew of bomb threats, city wide shelter in place, and a mandated curfew had surely elevated the power struggle between Black Mask and the Red Hood to the top of the Gang War Hall of Fame.

If such a cursed thing existed, anyway.

“In recent news the fight seems to have traveled from the docks to the outskirts of the Narrows. Unfortunately there is still no sign of Batman and our eyes in the sky have once again lost the two battling criminals.”

Great. The man let you all take a collective breath a year after fucking off to who knows where just to restart the clock right after the final exhale. There was always a bomb - metaphorical or otherwise - about to go off in the city anyway, why not add another?

Your teeth worry at your lip. You haven’t heard anything yet, no gunshots or yelling - like Gotham herself was holding her breath in wait for the destruction they would wrought - so you’d been able to ignore the anchor trying to lodge itself in your gut, but now that you knew they were close?

Your teeth leave an indent in your bottom lip and running the top of your tongue over the bite mark only serves to make the area pulse more, not soothe it. You make a low sound, eyes rolling.

Honestly if you had done what you were supposed to last week you likely wouldn’t even be up to worry yourself to death currently. As it stands you’d had an assignment due roughly fifteen minutes ago, so from the second the telltale siren of the Gotham Emergency Network’s warning sounded from your phone you’d been hyped up.

Watching it buzz on the table beside your laptop had made your stomach drop. Like the split second where you start thinking up your funeral rites after missing a step on the stairs.

Even now, looking out at the wayward streaks of moonlight peaking through your curtains to splay onto your living room floor, your mind twits itself where it doesn’t belong.

Admittedly, a split second after the first buzz, right before your phone cried out that the city was once again on fire, you’d thought it was the guy you’d been seeing. Heavy emphasis on ‘been’.

Rising panic aside you’ve been throwing little looks at it for hours now. The colored bubble around your words hasn’t left your head; it meets you seared on the underside of your eyelids every time you blink.

You:

Hey we haven’t talked in a hot minute and I was trying to call to tell you this btw but I'd like to break the whole arrangement we have now off. We don't want the same shit I guess.

You’d gotten nothing short of the ‘unseen’ marker under your message changing to ‘seen’ for your effort. So, now here you were worrying over ten hours later about a guy that couldn’t even be bothered to respond to you breaking up with him.

“Well that’s enough of that,” you sigh, turning off the tv and walking over to your kitchenette. Did you still have anything left over in your fridge that you liked? A pick me up sounded good, especially if you were planning on worrying yourself into an early grave all night.

It was uncouth honestly. At least Batman contained his messes. Hood had managed to knock crime down in The Alley by 60% the last time he was at large, you’ve seen the reports, but starting a city wide dick measuring contest with Black Mask was only dragging everybody through their shit. You couldn’t exactly say you endorsed his current plan of action.

Now to the fridge. The contents of which make you frown.

Fan-tastic.

Swooping down a little more to catch a possible glimpse of anything other than the food stains clinging desperately to the floor of the bottommost fridge shelf, your eyes narrow. Your tongue clicks harshly in the quiet when you thump it against the back of your top teeth.

If you really let yourself think about it, the fact he hadn’t even bothered to answer grated like a snagged scab. Oh!

There was some leftover spam that’d been pushed back into a corner of the middle shelf — bad as it was for your mood you couldn’t help but pick at his lack of answer. Etching away at your thoughts on the man in tiny barely noticeable increments — you’d only missed the meat on your initial scan because of the box of leftover pancake mix shamelessly in front of it. You snatch up both items, shoving them into the bend of your non-searching arm.

Another click of your tongue; more picking.

There was no way he could just leave you on ‘read’. You broke up with him, that’s not just something you leave somebody on goddamn ‘read’ for.

Only a nanosecond’s worth of pain, of worry for what uncovering more could make come pouring out, before the rush started to fade and you couldn’t help but pull on the scab harder. Till you felt your brows furrow all over again.

What were you? Just a way to pass the time?

A dog's rapid fire barking sounds from outside and your head pops up, looking over the fridge door, head on a swivel and eyes wide. The way rabbits go; blood frozen and breath held.

A beat passes where you just listen. When no signs of further disturbance occur though your blood warms, your air puffs out of you, and you can move again.

If you ever saw Red Hood you’d kick him in the dick (except you really wouldn’t, you weren't crazy). You snap open the bottom drawer only for your lip to instantly curl, unfortunately not cause of the game of hide and seek your fridge was playing with you. Hood would deserve it though, and so would another man that was embarrassingly still on your mind tonight.

Peppers. How did you forget you had those? They join your arm stash with a few rough movements.

Maybe you shouldn’t even be surprised. Jason was great - a little testy, but who in this city wasn’t? He was definitely still the best person you’ve dated since high school, though only so far as he was paying attention to you.

The constant “work” calls he had to excuse himself for you’re half convinced were actually his main woman calling or some other jumbled theory. If there was one thing you could do it was reach, but it was more so just the real world applications of creativity in your opinion.

Point was Jason was - had been - nice to call yours for however brief a moment. Even now thinking about him had your body doing an odd combination of being close to legitimate tears over an eight month relationship and the nonstop tremble that tended to come with the hot sensation of shame crawling up your neck.

Was it embarrassing to be this hung up on a white boy you’d barely known for a year?

Kind of, yeah.

Eight goddamn months and you were so caught up on the man you couldn’t snatch the random ingredients out of your fridge without a slight tremor in your hands, and an incessant barrage of curses that weren’t gonna stop going through your mind anytime soon that was for sure. That fucking asshole.

It wasn’t even like you actually cared anyway, it was whatever. Jason was whatever.

With a heavy sigh you straighten from your crouch and move to drop everything on the counter.

Jason was cool enough half the kids in your complex flocked to guilt him into giving them some cash when he came over, and he’d play along like he himself was getting paid for it every single time. He volunteered all over the ‘rougher’ parts of Gotham, and he was from The Alley so he got the city - plus you were a sucker for that Bowery accent, what could you say? Sounds good right? Downright perfect? Yeah well, Jason also didn’t talk, but not in the way that meant he couldn’t hold a good conversation.

You grin a little, unaware of the action, while walking over to pull out a chopping board and knife to wash. You didn’t have much, but fritters didn’t sound half bad and would take thirty minutes tops for you to put to a pan.

Once, you’d both spent hours arguing how The Thing as an adaptation was actually better than Who Goes There? while he harped that you inherently couldn’t separate the adaptation from the book like that: “Everything genuinely interesting about the movie came from the book. The movie quite literally wouldn’t exist without it.”

The conversation had lasted long enough for you to fall asleep on him - a song and dance that quickly became habit for you two; by now your FaceTime has seen many a squished drooling face - but Jason never once revealed anything personal. Not truly.

Not ever.

There’s a harsh crash from below, and that damn dog bellowing again. You take a second to glare at your window before focusing back on the task at hand.

It was a hard thing to catch, the sidestepping, but you weren’t that clueless. Jason didn’t have a middle name - which is fine, that was normal - but that wasn't all. Jason also had an undisclosed job that was always interrupting your time together. Said undisclosed job that paid him so much he could opt to get a hotel rather than let you go to his place - godforbid - every time you didn’t want to meet up at your house for the fiftieth time. You got it when your relationship was new, but nearly a year in?

Both his parents were dead, but sometimes if you called him and it was early enough he’d say something offhanded and mean about his father like he was still alive.

And Jason was fine - he was always fine - but you’d asked him to ‘just trust you’ once and his eyes had gone hard before his entire expression went flat and the date had ended there, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t physically left. Afterwards he’d avoided you for nearly a week and only convinced you to stay once he finally came back around by offering to let you beat his ass if it’d make you feel better.

Even as flabbergasted by the offer as you’d been, it'd worked and you two were back to business as usual within the same hour - no violence needed.

Before that you’d honest to goodness been contemplating going to ask him for his forgiveness for whatever it was you’d apparently done wrong. You’d been so scared he’d leave you you’d been ready to apologize for a problem that wasn’t even communicated to you.

Something that was pretty sad now that you were thinking about it so you were gonna stop now.

Point is it was getting embarrassing, even for you. Contemplating stooping that low for someone who couldn’t be fucked to give you an actual explanation after ghosting you that first time, let alone one that couldn’t even put a name to what the two of you were, was a waste of your time.

You could do better than Jason fucking Peterson that was for damn sure.

A sigh rattles through your chest as you shake out your knife, water droplets falling all over you and the counter in the process. Which—

You turn your head to look at your kettle sitting pretty on the side table closest to the window - you only had so much counter space, okay?

Tea sounded nice right now. You squint at the kettle with a frown. You could’ve sworn you’d had that same thought a while ago. Sure enough when you look a little harder it’s already been filled with water. You were that deep in your head for real? Enough to miss the shrill peeping your kettle let loose to announce that your water was effectively boiled?

“Wow.” You look up, shoulders rising and dropping with more flourish than necessary. “I need a nap,” you grumble and push away from where you’ve got the least wilted peppers and your leftover meat diced.

The kettle clicks back on with a quiet beep, the batter that you completely disregarded the instructions for cause you didn’t have eggs or milk is mixed, and you’re in your third fold to incorporate all the food together when a sharp BANG reverberates somewhere below your flat.

It’s a painful sounding pang that makes you flinch; spoon clattering to the imitation granite with a wet plop. The noise sets off the stray dog worse than before and you’re dropping like a cracked brick flat to the floor, heart hammering in conjunction with the animal’s startled barks.

You're high enough up from wherever the loud noise came from that your window doesn’t so much as rattle, but close enough that the breath shakes out of you with no less resistance than if it were physically being squeezed from you, and your palms tremble against the peel and stick tile your landlord insists is authentic.

You couldn’t—

A gunshot rings out in the definitely too close distance and you flinch.

“Fuck,” you rush out.

The curse you gasp out is unintelligible even to your own ears as you shake against the floor. The bang feels like deadweight vibrating through your bones. Like a presence squeezing at your lungs. There were protocol’s for this, you knew it, but you were just—

The sound of metal rattling harsh and fast meets your ears and this time your window does shake. You look up in what feels like slow motion, dread burning a hole through your stomach. A thump and subsequent end to the rattling freezes you in your tracks.

No way that didn’t come from your fire escape.

Fuck.

You knew one day it’d be Gotham that facilitated your demise, but right after a breakup? That was cruel even by the city’s standards.

Just your damn luck too that whoever was out there skipped three other peoples perfectly presentable fire escapes for yours.

You worry at your lip, eyeing the window behind your sheer curtains for anything unusual. Nothing immediately jumps out to you, just what you can see of the night from the upper mouth of the alleyway you’re in front of and the very top of your guard railing. Your suspiciously un-obscured guard railing.

Without really thinking you pull yourself up to your hands and knees. Your knees ache uncomfortably from your fall and your arms are weak at the elbows, threatening to send you careening face first into the floor, but you crawl forward anyway.

See, you liked to think you were smart. It was one of those things that was nearly a prerequisite in Gotham, even if The Hill was becoming less outwardly dangerous as more of the rich guys looking for cheap real estate forced their ways in. Still, the changes were only recent and - most importantly - a thinly veiled façade.

Crime was still crime no matter how pretty the buildings it took place in or around were.

Regardless, you thought you were smart, but now here you are easing up to your window like a reckless idiot with a death wish. If you were any less shaken up maybe you’d be running out your door - false alarm be damned - or you’d be thinking about calling the police at the very least.

Even in your haze you snort quietly to yourself. As if. At best they’d show up too late, The Hill was so far from everything that police response was shit on a ‘good’ day, let alone when every cop was out falling over themselves in their search for Mask and Hood, so you know you wouldn’t’ve bothered even if your stomach wasn’t currently trying to turn itself inside out.

The floor is cool under your palms and you let out a shaky breath. Elbows aching and knees starting to chafe because of how slow you were moving. You shift to list yourself to the side - alleviate the pain hindering your common sense - only to have it knocked right back into you when you overbalance and fall into the back of your couch.

“Oof,” you huff, noise forced from your chest.

Hands fly up to cover over your mouth, your eyes widening.

The seconds spent sprawled out on the floor give you time to think, at the very least, as you try to catch your breath as silently as possible.

No one would be rescuing you. The police weren’t coming - not that you really wanted their help anyway, your parents had moved to Camden last year, and you’d never even seen Batman in person. If you kept being stupid you’d be well and truly fucked.

Christ, you were mental. What the hell did you think you were gonna do - confirm to whoever was out there that you were home and then fight them off the fire escape yourself?

Somewhere in the ether someone was probably revoking your black card all now.

Retracing your steps backwards while still keeping mum wasn’t the easiest feat with your horrible balance and shaky limbs but you’re managing just fine - even grabbing your phone along the way. That you almost forgot it in the first place you ignore for now, the door and your shoes right beside it are too close for you to jeopardize your goal—

Beep beep beep beep…!

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! It has officially been two years to the day since I posted my first fic on this blog!!!!!

❤︎

Okaaaay, I am very nervous about finally posting this but it’s been nearly two years in the making so hopefully it’s not terrible. Could I have waited to write this until I was a better writer and all my personal thoughts were fully fleshed out? Sure, but there’s no time like the present and I can always rewrite this! This’ll hopefully be a long ride so I’m excited.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Also, feedback would be lovely, but be nice please, goddamn. Was the first chapter unengaging considering Jason’s not in it? Was it in any way confusing or hard to follow the Reader-Insert’s thought process throughout, specifically during the back and forth where she’s thinking about Jason and about what she’ll cook and shit?

126 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 17 days

Text

Bones Full of Words, ch 7

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 8.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues. Flirting, objectification, girl talk. Jealousy. Summary: Elisa needs help from Connie, you have a heart-to-heart with Inez, and Chi-Chi is done with all the humans' bullshit. Notes: The tension rises! Apologies for any errors I might have missed. Ya girl had a hell of a week this week.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

It wouldn't be another day in Bogotá without something unusual dropping directly into the lives of the Murphys or Javier Peña, but this is out of the ordinary even for them. Connie hustles Elisa down the hallway toward Javi's apartment, explaining that while Steve is already at work, there is a chance Javi isn't yet.

"I just hope he's here," she tells Elisa as she knocks on the door of Javi's apartment.

It's a rare morning that he has the apartment to himself. You had decided to get up early and run some errands before you work on your story. Not even telling him what this next piece is about, you had played things close to the vest. There had been a truce of sorts between you and him, an air of anticipation, as if both of you are waiting for some kind of sign. When someone knocks at the door, he sighs and crushes out his cigarette before getting off the couch and opening the door.

"Well, what have we here?" Javi drawls, looking between the two women when he opens the door.

Connie is too keyed up on the information that Lelisa has just given her to roll her eyes about his greeting. "I'll explain later," she assures him, knowing that Javi will trust her like he would trust Steve. Instead, she looks to Elisa. "I'll be right back. Go." Ushering Elisa inside, she doesn't even wait for the door to close before she takes off to call Steve at the office.

Javi frowns and turns back towards Elisa, wanting someone to tell him something about what the hell is going on. “I take it this isn’t a social call.”

“Not exactly,” Elisa admits, hustling inside when Connie urges her forward and only breathing again when Javi reluctantly shuts the door behind them.

“Fuck.” Javi huffs slightly and motions her farther inside the apartment, happy that you are out for the morning. “Want a drink?”

"Coffee?" It's a little too early for liquor, even for her. "I am sorry to barge in like this."

“Yeah, uh,” he had made an entire pot out of habit, even though you were already gone, so there’s plenty left. “Let me get you a cup. You like creamer? Sugar?”

"Black is fine." Her hands are in the pockets of her scrubs as she looks around the apartment, only to be immediately greeted by the penetrative glare of an enormous dog. It doesn't look dangerous, necessarily, but it doesn't look too happy to see her either.

“Okay.” He pours the cup and turns to hand it to her, watching her warily eye the dog. “That’s Chi Chi.” He tells her. “My- uh, roommate’s dog.” He flusters slightly because he doesn’t know if he should tell this woman your connection to him.

"Oh." Pointing out that she didn't know that Javi had a roommate feels useless since they barely know each other, but Elisa eyes the large dog back before gratefully accepting the coffee cup from Javi's hand. "Um...hi Chi-Chi." It's an attempt, cooing at the dog awkwardly in that high pitched voice that she knows people use with dogs and sometimes cats. She's really not a pet person at all and it probably shows.

The dog watches her for another moment before she hefts herself up off the ground where she had been laying to jump up on the couch and flop back down as if to tell her that she can’t sit there.

"She didn't bark." Elisa sighs in relief. "I'm taking that as a good sign."

He chuckles and doesn’t mention that the dog is basically ignoring her. “Come sit at the table and tell me what is going on.”

"I'm not entirely sure." Elisa admits. She sits down at the table with Javi but her leg begins to bounce with nerves, too jittery to sit still. "I know that Pablo Escobar is planning something with the communist group M-19. I do not know what it is, but I know it will be bad. I told Connie to warn her husband, and asked her to hide me. That is why she brought me to you."

His eyes narrow and he leans forward. “And how do you know what he has planned with M-19?” He demands.

What is the newspapers always say? She purses her lips together and holds the coffee mug between both hands as if she's willing herself to calm down. "A reliable source," she tells him firmly.

“Who is your source?” Javi asks, pressing the point and reaching for his cigarettes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know the information is good.”

Elisa sighs, frowning a little more deeply, and sips the scalding hot coffee. "My ex." She had ended things the second she found out that idiot was making deals with Escobar, so at least it was accurate.

He hums, shaking out a cigarette and offering her one. “What’s his name?”

"Iván Torres." Assuming that a DEA agent involved in things here will know who the members of M-19 are, Elisa knows he will put the pieces together. Realize that she, too, is a member of the group. But the group has changed. Their goals and their loyalties are no longer what she herself was fighting for.

Javi rocks his jaw and stares at her for a moment. If her boyfriend is the leader of M-19. She is involved. “Hell of a joke.” He muses, smirking slightly as he remembers her saying she was a communist.

"I thought it matched a DEA agent joking about being CIA," she admits, though it seems far less amusing now.

“Fair enough.” He knows everyone has their secrets and he’s not as hard to get communists as the Marines stationed at the embassy are. It’s not his place to really care about it. He’s here for the drugs. “Start from the beginning.”

"Last night I went to see Iván after work," Elisa explains, her fingers nervously but soundlessly tapping on the sides of the mug in her hands. "When I went to his house, a man with a gun opened the door. Which is...not unusual, I admit. But I didn't not recognize this one. He demanded to know what I wanted, and I explained that I was Iván's girlfriend. He let me in, but when I walked into the living room, Ivan was sitting on the couch with Escobar."

Javi reaches for the notepad that seems to a constant on the table since you’ve moved in and the pencil beside it. He will need to take notes.

"They shook hands, and said they had a deal," she goes on. "And then Escobar left with his men."

“Anything else? How did he act when Escobar left? What did he say?” He fires off the questions quickly.

"He was not exactly happy." Sipping the coffee simply to have something else to do, Elisa breathes deeply again. "He said that he would not tell me what they were planning unless I agreed to be a part of it, but I cannot do that." Her eyes flick up, finding Javi watching her intently. "He made the deal for money. To fund the revolution the way he wants it. But I joined the fight for the people. Not a drug trafficker."

“Noble.” He snorts, aware that M-19’s kidnappings had resulted in deaths.

"I don't claim to be perfect." Elisa bristles, and rightfully so. "No one is. Nothing can be."

“You’re right, but if your cause needs you to kidnapped people, maybe it’s not the right one.” He points out before he offers her a cigarette. “I’m not judging. You did what you thought was right at the time.”

The slight pause before she accepts the cigarette is time to consider, but she is not here to debate with him. Just to report what happened last night to someone who may be able to help her. "I have heard of the interrogation methods your agents and your friends in Search-Bloc use to get information." She inhales smoke from the cigarette after lighting it and sighs inwardly at the rush of nicotine. At the moment, it is more soothing than anything else. "It is not worth fighting for moral superiority. We can at least agree that Escobar is worse."

He mulls over the comment and concedes. “Do you know when this plan is going down?” He asks.

"Ivan is impatient," she tells him, taking another drag from the cigarette. "It will be soon."

He snorts and wishes that Escobar would be impatient. Impatient men make mistakes. “So what do you want from us?” He asks, coming to the real reason why Elisa is at his door and not going to the Embassy.

It's an uncomfortable question, but she deserves it. Nothing in this world is free. There is a price for everything and hers is crystal clear at this point. "Information in exchange for protection. I have told you what I know, and I have a target on my back now that I witnessed Ivan and Escobar together but refused to cooperate. I need protection."

He knew that was the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it. To see the fear flash in her eyes and know that she understands the danger she has put herself in. “We’ll get you out.” He promises, reaching out and touching her hand.

"Thank you." There is more comfort in the warmth of his hand than she expected. Not just the placation of words, but actual assurance. She believes he will keep his promise. That the upper hand she has given him won't be abused. That she is safe.

“I’m going to need you to go over it again.” Javi tells her softly. “Everything, time of day - where exactly you were, right down to what Escobar was wearing and what the men he was with looked like.” It’s specifics, but that is what is needed.

"I understand." She is also hoping that her cooperation bodes well for what will happen to her afterward. She has willingly put herself in the hands of the American authorities and that will hopefully mean some kind of help for her to keep her out of the hands of Colombian authorities. Or worse, the sicarios.

So she goes through every detail. Working hard to recall every word that was said and everything about the other men who were in the room last night. She even goes so far as to draw a diagram of the room on Javi's notepad with figures marking each person and their name or description. Everything that she can possibly give, she does.

Javi takes notes, meticulously. Cigarette after cigarette is lit and smoked as he goes over the questions again and again, wanting to pull every piece of information out of her as he can. Until he feels like he's gotten everything. "Good." He nods as he looks up at her again. "This is good." Shooting her a smile, he tilts his head. "When you go to America - I wouldn't mention being a communist."

"You'll have to teach me how to talk like an American," she huffs, trying for a laugh but just feeling exhausted.

He knows she’s flirting and he would brush it off, but he’s a little raw from spending so much time with you. He had gone by the brothel the other day and seen you leaving, making him turn around. “Don’t worry.” He promises, shooting her a wink. “You’ll be ready by the time you leave.”

"You are very confident that the ambassador will reward you for my information." And, if she's honest? His confidence is extremely relieving. "I hope you're right."

“We have the upper hand.” Javi admits. “Escobar is escalating in violence and they want him gone.”

"Then I hope you're right even more." She murmurs, knowing that since Escobar has seen her face he surely has learned her name, and that staying here is now mortally dangerous.

“I am.” He’s more confident, but he crushes out his cigarette and stands. “I’ve got to make a call.”

"I'll just...sit tight." Elisa nods and sits back in her seat.

“There’s food in the kitchen.” Javi gestures towards the fridge, knowing that you have stocked it again. “Help yourself.”

She thanks him but doesn't move, watching Javi disappear into the next room while she crosses one leg over the other at the table. The dog has fully dismissed her now and she's sitting alone -- waiting to see what the next step of her future will be.

Javi calls the Embassy and asks to be put through to Steve’s desk. “Fuck, what the hell is your wife doing?” He demands when the phone is picks up and Murphy identifies himself.

"Taking care of a friend." Steve deadpans. He is too busy staring at the small, portable television they keep in the office to pay Javi too much heed at the moment. "Jav," he grunts, inhaling a lung full of nicotine as he watches the live feed on screen. "She called me to tell me about Elisa. I've already told the ambassador."

“And?” Javi asks, hating how he is having to drag information out of Steve right now. “What did she say?” It’s probably a good thing that Steve talked to the ambassador instead of him. She’s still pissed at him about Helena and she might hold that against Elisa.

“Don’t get pissy with me, Peña, I didn’t know any of them.” Steve huffs down the phone, before wiping one hand down the side of his face in aggravation. “Turn on the damn tv. M-19 has already attacked the Palace of Justice. But thanks to her we can link Escobar to it.”

“Goddamn.” Javi hisses and shakes his head, reaching for the remote to the tv in the bedroom. It might be a little excessive to have a tv in here, but he liked watching the news while he gets dressed.

“Keep her safe.” Steve advises, rustling through papers in his desk. He knows he doesn’t have to tell his partner that, but something in him knows that his wife’s friend truly does need the protection.

“She put Escobar in the room with the leader of M-19.” Javi huffs. “She’s going nowhere, but she’s going to cause problems because she’s a communist.”

“Of course she is.” The other man groans in irritated response. “Let’s just keep that part under our hats for now, okay?”

He snorts as he watches the screen. “As much as we can.” He agrees. “Who knows what will happen after this.”

“Don’t come in today.” As much as he hates having to deal with the official shit himself, the place Javi needs to be right now is in his apartment keeping Elisa safe. “Get everything you possibly can out of her. Get that reporter to help you if you have to, but we need everything.” The question of why or how Javier Peña has an American reporter living with him when they’re not fucking — and for all accounts barely like each other — will keep for another day. Today Steve Murphy is just willing to make the most of it.

Javi stiffens, realizing that you will ask questions about why Elisa is here. Now he has to figure out how he’s going to have you living here and the woman he is now tasked with keeping safe. “Yeah. Good idea.” He mutters.

“You okay?” Murphy asks, though the question is absent. He’s watching the small tv in the office again. “Don’t get weird on me now, man.”

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “I’m the weird one?” He demands. “You are living in Colombia and your Spanish is shit, you fucking hillbilly.” He knows the asshole isn’t even paying attention. “Let me know when you hear anything.” He demands and hangs the phone up on him before he can give a half assed answer.

Elisa is still sitting at the table when Javier comes back into the room, legs crossed and nervously picking at her nails.

He rubs his hands on his thighs and sighs. “So, uh, you’re gonna be here until we can get you to the US.” He tells her. “The plan is already rolling. And Escobar will be looking for you.”

A string of curses roll off her tongue but she nods, ultimately sighing in resignation. The hand she waves around his apartment is equally resigned. "Your girlfriend will not like it, I'm sure. But I will keep to myself."

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Javi frowns, the words feeling a little traitorous, but they are the truth. You aren’t his girlfriend. “She sleeps in the other bedroom.” He points out.

"Your...friend..." Instinct tells her the situation is more complicated than he is letting on, but Elisa waves that away for now. "If she is in the other room...where exactly will I be sleeping?"

“Uh—” He hesitates for a moment, knowing that there is another room, but he knows that you’ve started taking it over slowly as an office space when you aren’t working at the kitchen table. For some reason, he’s hesitant to offer it to her without talking to you.

"I don't suppose..." Elisa looks up at him, several weeks of having seen him fleetingly in a small handful of social situations with the Murphys having piqued her interest in him intensely. "You would mind sharing?"

His cock twitches immediately and he lifts a brow at her suggestion. “Moving on from your ex?” He asks with the ghost of a small smirk lifting the edge of his mustache.

"I have been thinking about it." She admits, standing from her chair when his eyebrow raises instead in invitation. "I have been thinking about it since we met at lunch."

“Yeah?” He hums, his eyes dragging up and down her body and he can’t deny that he wants to fuck her. “You don’t have to fuck me to stay here.” He wants to make that clear from the onset. He doesn’t play that kind of shit.

"Of course not." Elisa's head tilts slightly to one side, but she makes no question about returning his gaze. "If I thought you would demand it of me, I would have left already. But, why not find some enjoyment out of an otherwise stressful situation?"

“Cumming is a good way to relax.” He chuckles, smirking in a charming way that you’ve accused him of using to his advantage at times.

"To keep distracted." She agrees with a nod, stepping closer once more. "And pass the time."

“Pass the time, hm?” He reaches out and grabs her waist to drag her closer to him. “Want me to show you the bedroom where you’ll sleep?” He jokes.

"In a minute." Elisa insists, taking that moment and the opportunity it offers, and wraps her arms around Javi's neck to pull him into a kiss.

He doesn’t hesitate, although there’s a thought in the back of his mind as he leans into the movement and presses his lips to hers. He wonders what you are doing right this second.

******

Inez’s new apartment is a walk-up in a part of town that makes you think she might need Chi-Chi more than you do. If the sweet dog hadn’t warmed up to Javier so quickly and thoroughly, you might even be moved to suggest it, but knocking on your friend’s door brings only one thought to the forefront. You can’t wait to hug her and have a good gossip about something other than Javier.

Opening the door requires many locks to be unbolted, but when they are done, she throws the door open happily. “You’re here!” She scoops you up and wraps her arms around you. “I’ve missed seeing you!”

“Hey gorgeous!” You bury yourself in the hug, letting her drag you inside and bundle you up in it, returning the tight squeeze with enthusiasm. “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“You look great.” Inez declares. “How have you been? I heard the club will be opening again soon.”

“Yeah, I heard they found new owners and the remodel will be done soon.” Javier and his partner had been keep close tabs on the building, so you’re better than usually informed about the space. “Are you…going back to working there?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs slightly, trying not to think about the fact that she could have been killed if she was working that night. “The tips were good, but I don’t know if I want to risk it.” She tilts her head. “How’s Alex?”

“You deserve a better place to work than that.” Giving her one more squeeze, you follow her into the small space and plop down on the sofa in her living room with her. There is already a bottle of rum out and glasses, and you groan with delight when she starts to pour. “The other thing, though…I dumped him.”

“Good.” She hadn’t really liked the vibe she got from Alex, but she had never said anything. He had seemed to entertain you and make you happy, so that was all that mattered to her.

“You didn’t like him either, huh?” You huff at her and roll your eyes. “You guys need to say something. Señora Perrín positively danced when she found out.”

“You seemed like you needed the confidence boost.” Inez shrugs and isn’t going to apologize. “Besides if he was amazing, we would be wrong to have talked ill of him.”

“Well, it turns out he was a piece of shit, so he’s not worth wasting breath on anymore.” Raising the glass she hands you, you tap it against hers and savor the friendly sound of clinking glass. “Salud.”

“Damn.” She shakes her head. “I was hoping he was on of the good spooks.”

“I don’t think there’s any such thing.” At least not that you’ve met. And you’ve now met plenty of them. “Chi-Chi sends her love, by the way.”

“I miss that dog.” She laughs, shaking her head. “So where are you staying? Señora Perrín said you had a safe place but she didn’t explain.”

“Yeah, I…” There is no real use in sugar coating it, and your mind is a little fried from chasing down a lead in your next story all damn morning and afternoon. So you just end up shrugging. “Do you remember that guy I went to stay with while Helena was hurt?” You ask, unsure how Inez will react.

“The asshole you couldn’t stand?” She frowns and shakes her head. “What about him?”

“Yeah.” That is what you said, after all. Inez hasn’t been looped in about Javier being your roommate because it’s been so long since you saw her last. “He’s, uh…he’s sort of my roommate now. Or I’m his roommate, I guess you’d say.”

“And you haven’t killed him?” She snorts and looks impressed. “You were not captivated by that guy.” She reminds you. “Honestly? It seemed like you had been interested and he rejected you.”

"Oh we're getting into it early today, huh?" Inez is the friend you can be most honest with, and it's not necessarily surprising that she would be able to cracks these topics open with you. If you had been hoping to avoid the topic of Javier, you are sorely mistaken. "Alright, if we're going to get into this, then what are we having for dinner? Because I'm about to spill my guts to you so I need a full belly for it."

She snorts and grins at you. “I ordered in.” She tells you. “It’s in the kitchen, already. I got Indian.”

"Gorgeous," you groan happily. Samosas and butter chicken and pumpkin curry will make this conversation go much more easily. "I'm sorry it's been so long since we did this, but at least there's plenty to talk about."

“There has been a lot that has changed.” She shrugs slightly, although she has missed sharing some downtime meals with you. Her neighbors aren’t the best. “But now we can spend the evening talking.”

The two of you bustle around her tiny kitchen for a few minutes, bringing take out containers, plates, and forks out to the living room. Once you're sitting again, Inez looks at you expectantly and you blow out a breath. "Okay," you submit, dipping the corner of one samosa in the cilantro sauce that the restaurant sent. "First of all, he is really hot. I'm not going to deny that."

“I have to meet this guy.” She grunts, knowing that you have good taste in attractiveness - despite Alex.

“He’s…” The first bite of food relaxes you a bit, and you pour a little ginger beer into your rum glasses to make a most basic cocktail that will be absolutely delicious with your dinner. “Unfairly pretty. Like Burt Reynolds but sexier. Which I didn’t think was even possible.”

“Burt Reynolds?” She tilts her head and then grins. “Bandit?” She’s seen that movie with you, having found it here dubbed in Spanish and she had really liked it. He was sexy and if your Javier is as sexy as him, then this guy is extremely fuckable.

“Which doesn’t really mean anything. It’s just a fact.” Although you had caught a glimpse of him tugging his shirt over his head on the way out of his room the other day and had to pause to collect yourself.

“I take it you haven’t fucked him?” She asks, lifting a brow.

“No.” That makes you shake your head, willing away the daydreams — and regular dreams — you’ve been starting to have about him. “No. It’s not like that.”

“Wait a minute…” She frowns and stares at her food for a moment before her expression turns contemplative. “Isn’t this the guy you said was responsible for Helena?”

“Admittedly, I jumped to conclusions on that one.” While being protective of your friend is not something you believe at all you ought to apologize for, you most certainly have apologized for thinking that Javier forced her into that situation. You were entirely in the wrong. “I didn’t do my due diligence. It turns out Helena insisted on going into the situation, and Javi had given her advice and direction to navigate it safely. Then…when she got hurt anyway…he got her out as fast as he could and made sure she got to the hospital.”

“Okay, I don’t want to beat his face in now.” She had only heard snippets of the situation and had never really met Helena except in passing. “So he’s a good guy?”

"He's..." A mouthful of curry has you feeling another measure of relaxation, and you shrug one shoulder. "Grumpy. And cranky. And cocky." And despite every less than complimentary word coming out of your mouth, there is an upward curve to one corner of your lips and a barely perceptible softness in your voice. "Yeah. He's a good guy."

“So he’s the exact type of man that you said you despise.” She laughs and takes a bite of her food. “I bet you hate living with him.”

"We're barely ever home at the same time." At least that much is true, and you bury yourself into focusing on your food for a moment. You barely escaped her noticing that you do not, in fact, hate Javier at all. In fact...it's turning into the opposite. "When we are it's fine. But we both work weird hours."

“Well, maybe being roommates with someone who works off hours and keeps to himself is just what you need.” She hums. “Besides, if you trust him, it is a good thing. The neighborhood is far rougher than it used to be.”

"Javi lives near the American embassy," you reveal, knowing that it says a whole lot about his apartment just from the neighborhood that he is in. No part of the city is universally safe, but his spacious, beautiful apartment is definitely in a safer neighborhood.

“Oh God.” Her eyes widen in surprise and she nods, reaching for her drink. “No wonder you leapt at the chance to live there. I would too.”

"And, believe it or not?" This time you go past a small, secret smile and right up to laughing as you fork up another bite of food. "Chi-Chi likes him."

“No fucking way!” She hisses, howling with laughter when you nod. “That dog doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t have a pussy.”

"Just one." You chuckle right along with her. "Just Javier. That's it."

“Fuck.” She marvels at that and picks up her drink to take a sip. “So….” She prompts. “What made you stay with this man?”

"I'm not with him," you clarify, even though Inez already knows that. It just feels like you need to repeat it, although it might be more for yourself than for her. "There was nowhere else. I mean...I had been looking for almost two months. Ultimately the only place I could find that I could afford, was safe, and was okay with Chi-Chi...was the place I was already."

"Then is sounds like it's the perfect place for you." She says wisely. "You will be fine. It sounds like you don't spend much time with him."

“No. I guess not.” And for reasons you are absolutely not prepared to deal with, that deflates you. To the point where you’re now slouching over completely in your seat as you have your dinner. “How is it for you here?” You ask, deflecting the conversation so you don’t think too hard about how you’re starting to actually enjoy the time you spend with your roommate. Your soulmate.

She notices the way you seem to curl in on yourself, but she doesn't press. Instead, she shrugs. "It's alright." She wishes that the raid hadn't ruined the perfect work/life balance for her. "The little bar I'm working in doesn't pay nearly as well as the club, but I'm making it work."

“There’s a place up by me that is looking for more help.” It’s not a lot, but at least it’s something you can offer her. “It’s a more upscale restaurant. I’m not sure what the pay would be like but the tips would be good.”

That could possibly work. She nods. “Yeah, give me their information before you go home tonight.” She asks. “I would like to stop by there.”

“Of course.” It’s a fancy place two blocks down from Javier’s apartment where you’ve seen very well dressed couples go in and out on your walks, and heard it mentioned around the embassy as a place for meetings in the afternoons. It would be safer than any bar she’s working in, in this neighborhood, and definitely better money. “It’s been mentioned around the embassy a bit. So if you end up there make sure you spit in Alex’s drink for me if he ever turns up.”

“Did the bastard cheat?” She would spit in his drink just for shits and giggles but if he cheated on you, she would make him literally shit himself.

“Not that I know of.” Although now that she mentions it, you wouldn’t be surprised. “Turns out he was using me for my living room windows. Trying to stake out the building.”

“Shit.” She hisses. “That fucking bastard.”

"It's my own fault," you shrug. As suspected, the well-made and well-spiced dinner that your friend ordered is softening the harsh blow of the conversation. "I came on to him, remember? That's what I get, I guess. I was feeling good that night."

“Nope.” She shakes her head, frowning fiercely. “You aren’t going to do that. You don’t blame yourself for him being a scumbag.”

"It's done," you tell her, shaking your head again and letting the thought continue on without even pausing to consider what you're saying. "Javi kicked his ass anyway. It's over."

“Wait a minute—” she points her fork at you. “Your roommate kicked Alex’s ass?” She lifts her brows up into her hair they are so high. “Why?”

"Uhhh..." Shit. Shit. Shit. Well, there's no way out of this now. "Apparently Javier overheard Alex talking shit in the embassy men's room and took exception to him insulting me."

“Wow.” She looks suitably impressed. “He is a good guy.” She huffs. “Bring him around one night and I’ll buy him a round.”

"He is." That isn't something you're doing to deny. Especially not after everything he's done for you. "He's like a grumbly old neighborhood dog. The first impression might not always be perfect, but you warm up to him pretty quickly."

“And you would like to warm up to him in bed?” She’s grinning as she asks that question and watching you closely.

"Oh, shut up," you huff, groaning in response.

Cackling in delight when you duck your head in embarrassment, she knows she’s hit the nail on the head. “Ohhhh so you have a big crush.”

"God, it's so much more complicated than that." Another groan comes and you wipe one hand down your face. Rum. You definitely need more rum.

That she doesn’t understand, but she doesn’t push you. “It will work out.” She promises you softly, reaching over and touching your arm sympathetically.

"I honestly don't know." Setting down the rum bottle again, you look up at Inez and sigh. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to freak out?"

“Sure, you know you can tell me anything.” She promises, wondering if you’ve somehow done a background check on him or stalked his ex’s to find out his type.

"The thing is..." You have to give yourself a moment to breathe, and set down your plate on the coffee table to hold your drink in both hands like it's somehow centering you and not just an anchor for all the chaos you've been feeling lately. "We found out that..." Out with it. Just say it. Say it out loud, it's not that scary. It's just a fact and nothing more. "Javier and I are...we're soulmates..."

Inez freezes, shocked and her immediate instinct is to squeal in happiness for you, but she senses that’s not the right move. “And…how do you feel about that?” She breathes out softly.

"Real answer, or kneejerk answer?" You ask, even though you know immediately what she'll say.

“Of course I want to know how you really feel.” She rolls her eyes and smiles at you. “Whatever it is.”

"I feel really fucking confused." It's the truth that you can't even say out loud to the girls, knowing how Freckles and Helena and Vanessa absolutely adore Javier. You need that impartial third party. The person who only knows you and how you're reacting and how unusual this conflict is for you. Someone who doesn't know Javier from a hole in the wall and only cares about your side of the story.

"Because on paper he's...he's kind of perfect. Handsome, charming, smart, totally dry sense of humor. We even like most of the same movies and a lot of the same food. But in reality? Something just isn't clicking, and I don't know what or why."

“Too different?” Inez asks, certain that it has to be something small that you might feel is insurmountable. Like a mountain out of a mole hill situation.

"We're so similar." The opposite of that problem, in fact, which you had always heard tauted as one of the benefits of soulmate relationships. "We' both stubborn and headstrong and...if I'm being completely honest? The biggest difference is that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Despite what the girls say it seems like an insult from the universe that he got stuck with me."

“Does he think it’s an insult?” That title for good guy is hanging by a precarious thread if he feels slighted that his soulmate isn’t some rail thin model. You aren’t as fat as you think you are, or imagine how you look to others. Your self-image is negative and you will always see the worst in yourself even if you champion for others.

This is the sort of challenge from your most honest and most outspoken friend that you don't like very much, because it forces you to admit that your perspective of the situation is skewed. "He says, and the girls say...that he prefers...a fuller figure. But I've never seen him go near anyone my size before. I mean...we've slept with some of the same women. And I adore those girls but they are half my size."

“He pays them?” She asks. “Same as you do?” You nod and she tilts her head. “How many ‘fuller figured’ girls do the sicarios visit?” She even uses air quotes for the annoyed tone that is tacked onto your description of your body type.

"None that I know of," you reason without hesitation. "Because it's not the most common standard of beauty."

“So they would not have the information he was looking for.” She points out. “And it’s not like he can go around fucking everyone and letting his guard down around them.”

"I don't know that there's more than one person in Colombia he's ever let his guard down around." As far as you know, the answer is one single person. Only one. "Just Helena. And she's...as best as I can tell, she's completely in love with him."

“She has to know that you are soulmates.” Her eyes widen again, this time sympathetically for the other woman. “But what does he feel for her?”

"The girls are the ones who told me." The fact that they knew for so long and said nothing is still a sticking point for you, but you understand now why they kept it to themselves. If you're this conflicted now there's no way it would have been any better then. "And, I mean, they're...they're friends. It's unrequited, if that's what you're asking. And she knows that. Which sucks for her, honestly. It sucks to have feelings for someone who doesn't return them."

“So he doesn’t love her, he’s defended you against your asshole ex, he likes bigger girls, but you think it’s unfair that you are his soulmate?” She ticks off the list rationally.

"Oh come on, don't do that." Boiling it down to bullet point facts has you sinking down in your seat again and taking a long sip of your drink. "The number of times a day I think about that man has skyrocketed every single week. It's basically exponential at this point. And if I let myself think about him freely it's just..." You groan, knocking back the end of your second drink and digging the heels of your hands into your eyelids like you're trying to banish a mental image and can't quite get to your mind's eye. "I'm going to end up with feelings for him and that won't end well."

“And that scares you.” Inez had heard your stance on soulmates more than once and she understands why now what caused you to be so wary of the soulmate connection. It’s as if you were sabotaging yourself.

With another sigh, you swallow back the emotion threatening to cut through your voice. The truth of it. The honesty. "Absolutely fucking terrifies me to my core."

“You poor thing.” She sighs and shakes her head. “You just keep your head down and focus on your stories for now.” She advises. “Your moment of clarity will come.”

"You're lucky," you decide, letting out another shaky breath. "I'd give anything to go back to not having any clue who my soulmate was."

“No, you wouldn’t.” She promises, smiling sadly as she looks down at the small, crescent shaped scar on her forearm. “It’s just as terrifying to think that you might never meet them. Or that they could die before you do and then you will be left with the aching sense of loss for someone you’ve never even met. No where to go to mourn, you don’t even know their name.” She shakes her head. “I’m happy for you. Even if you are never more than roommates.”

"Fine." Annoyingly, she's right. Inez knows you better than you know yourself more often than not, and right now there is an eerie sense of how correct she really is that settles over you. Would you be happier never knowing the rancher's son from the borderlands of Texas? No. You wouldn't. You would still be secretly dreaming of whoever it was out there that shared your marks and half of your soul. But knowing and being too scared to reach for him is a different kind of torture. "Then I wish I wasn't so scarred by my past and my self-image and that I could actually have some kind of hope without it being weighed down by fear."

She sighs softly, aware that no amount of arguing or pep talks will convince you that you deserve this chance. “Maybe that will come in time.”

"Maybe." And then again? Maybe not. Right now you feel too far out in the ocean for even that anchor on your ankle to do any good.

Hope. An ironic motto from your home, when you feel like there is absolutely none at all.

******

Water. Elisa slips out of the bed and reaches for the shirt that is heaped on the floor. Slipping into it and only buttoning one of the buttons as she creeps out of the room. Javi is asleep, curled around a pillow after he had let go of her and she smirks slightly at the ache between her thighs. He’s obviously been pent up and it had been animalistic and needy. Just what she craved right now with her future so uncertain.

The front door of the apartment opens quietly. You had gotten a little too tipsy at Inez's place and stayed until you were sober enough to drive home safely. Now you creep in at the late hour just in case Javier has fallen asleep on the couch like he sometimes does. The man gets little enough sleep as it is, he doesn't need you waking him up.

It isn't the sleep form of your roommate guarded dutifully by an enormous but loving dog that greets you, though. It's a very surprised woman fully naked except for the shirt that is barely holding on to her trim frame.

Javier's shirt.

Chi-Chi's low growl pointed in her direction could not be a better echo for the breaking of your heart in this moment.

“Oh.” Elisa has assumed that Javi’s roommate had come home sometime during the hours that he had spent making her see stars. They hadn’t been exactly quietly and she had thought she just must not have heard the door. It was why she was trying to be so quiet when she came to get water. “I’m sorry, I thought—” she shakes her head, knowing that it doesn’t matter what she thinks. “Elisa.” She introduces herself and quickly sets down the glass to start buttoning up the shirt more. You have to be used to this if Javier is your roommate.

“I—” Panic rises in your throat, strangling whatever other words you were about to say. After spending the entire night pouring your heart out to Inez and coming around to the realization that you really are starting to feel things for Javier…you come home to this.

“Excuse me.” Fleeing past her to the room that you have shared with Chi-Chi every day since the raid, you pull the door shut behind you and turn the lock. Barely getting yourself inside before the tears start to fall.

Elisa stares after you for a moment, surprised by the unhappy heartbreak that she had seen on your face before you rushed off. It’s obvious that you have some sort of feelings for your roommate and she wonders if he knows that. She refills the glass, not wanting to run into you again, and makes her way back to the bedroom she is sharing with Javi.

******

When morning comes you stay glued to your bed. The melancholy and self-berating disappointment is still too strong to face the day, and you had planned to do some more recon tonight rather than this morning anyway. The smell of coffee is even more taunting, as you are more than certain that that woman is out there drinking it with him instead of you.

He doesn’t owe you anything. You’re not together and you never pretended to be. But still you’re so jealous that it’s nearly dissolving you into a depressive episode.

When Elisa has come back into the bedroom, Javi had woken up again. He had briefly woken up when she slipped out of the bed, but he had sat up when she had closed the door again. Only to not sleep the rest of the night when she had told him that he had met you.

Now waiting for you to come out into the kitchen so he can explain. His stomach clenching with guilt and annoyance at that guilt.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You mumble at Chi-Chi. The dog will need to be walked soon but you’re probably a bad person for wanting to put it off as long as possible. Just to prevent having to go out there and face the day.

Javi checks his watch as he blows out a sigh. Soon he’s going to have to leave and he really doesn’t want to leave Elisa here without talking to you. He twitches slightly and shakes out his arms as he walks down the hall to your door and taps on it gently.

The sound cuts through the thick silence of your room too sharply, making you frown but you ignore it. If it’s that woman you don’t want to face her, and if it’s him? Well…that might be worse.

He doesn’t hear you and he frowns as he taps on the door again, saying your name. He needs to talk to you.

“Fuuuuck…” The soft groan is more for yourself than anything else, and after about six seconds of debate you drag yourself out of bed and wrap an oversized sweater around yourself to cover up the thin tank top and shorts you usually sleep in. Six more seconds of steeling yourself are necessary before you pull open the door just enough to see him standing there looking carved from marble levels of gorgeous. “Morning,” you manage to mumble. It is certainly not a good one so you won’t claim it to be.

You must be hung over. The look on your face and the way you seem to wince when you see him. He should have brought you a cup of coffee. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No.” But you still avoid the bright light from the living room behind him or having to look him in the face by casting your eyes down at the floor. “Going to work?” You guess.

“Yeah—” he pauses and feels awkward. “Look, there’s a witness in my room.” Javi blows out, keeping his voice low. “I know you might want to interview her, but I need you to hold any story, okay?” He asks, hoping you will do him this favor. “Can you keep an eye on her for me?”

“Babysit your new girlfriend.” It comes out of your mouth bitingly, much more harshly than you meant it to sound but honest nonetheless. The fact that he would even think to ask you to do that is as heartbreaking as it is cruel. “Sure. Fine. Got it. Although I can promise you I won’t be interviewing her. Anything else?”

His eyes widen and he chokes out your name, the guilt cascading over him again. “She can tie M-19 to Escobar.” He hisses quietly, shuffling closer to you. “They attacked the Palace of Justice yesterday.”

“I genuinely don’t care.” Your own guilt is what pushes that sentence out of your mouth, and you take a step back from him to avoid being too close — which Chi-Chi takes as an invitation as she slips off of your bed and out into the hall. Professional you cares very much that this woman has such important information. But professional you is not in charge right now. “If she needs to be guarded, then don’t work late tonight, okay? I have a lead I’m following after dark.”

“You don’t need to be out too late.” The caution comes out automatically and he frowns when you back up from him. You’re soft and smell like sleep and whatever perfume you had worn, making his cock twitch in his pants as he realizes you have little under that sweater.

“Just gives you more time to fuck your informant,” you snap back, irritated that he would feel so entitled as to tell you how to do your job. “Anything else?” Tacking sir onto the end of it is just on the tip of your tongue, but for all you know he likes that. So you don’t.

He swallows harshly at the venom in your voice. “No.” He steps back and feels the sharp sting of rejection that doesn’t sit well. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.” He offers before he turns around.

His only answer is the slam of your bedroom door. It won’t open again while he’s still home. Once he’s left you’ll take the dog for a walk and do your best to avoid the woman he’s left behind in your shared space while simultaneously not speaking to her at all if you can possibly help it.

Javi almost wakes Elisa up to tell her to just stay in his room, but he doesn’t. Pausing in the hallway for a second and wondering why the hell you are so angry. You had agreed that there wasn’t going to be anything happening between the two of you, why are you acting like he’s cheating on you?

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

BFoW: @haileymorelikestupid @theorganasolo @missladym1981 @alexiamargot06 @southernbe

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x plus size reader #plus size reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #soulmate au #forced proximity #and they were roommates #enemies to lovers

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cartierre · 1 year

Text

COUNT CONTESSA | lh44

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lewis hamilton x fem!black!fashion designer!reader

side note: i named the fashion brand "contessa" because i was listening to count contessa by azealia banks, hence the title side note pt2: this is a bit all over the place, i'm sorry

♡ liked by contessa and 374,038 people

tagged: lewishamilton, yourfashionbrand

f1 It's race day and Lewis Hamilton is rocking yet another fit from contessa !

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user1 at this point he should become their fashion ambassador ⤷ user2 fr he's been wearing their clothes a lot recently

user3 nobody does fashion like sir lewis hamiltonnn

contessa looking good in red!

user4 lewis' fashion sense never fails to amaze me ⤷ user5 no one is doing it like him fr (zhou being a close second)

♡ liked by lewishamilton, bellahadid and 67,498 others

tagged: lewishamilton

contessa The pleasure is all ours to announce our newest fashion ambassador: Formula One driver lewishamilton ! We are absolutely delighted to work on future projects together with such an inspirational and encouraging person. Lewis Hamilton represents everything our brand stands for: Passion, Elegance and Diversity. Welcome to our team, Lewis.

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user6 i've been waiting for this moment for so long! ⤷ user7 it was bound to happen i mean honestly he was wearing y/n's clothes for so long now

yourusername really happy to be able to work together lewishamilton ⤷ lewishamilton ditto!

user8 this is the absolute perfect fit omg

user9 i just know lewis giggled so badly when he signed the contract

user10 i need to see y/n and lewis together now they'd be so powerful next to each other

♡ liked by contessa, lewishamilton and 83,928 others

yourusername jewelry prototypes

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user11 the way i could immediatly spot lewis' hands

user12 i know y/n and lewis work together but my delusional ass hopes they're kinda dating... ⤷ user13 no because saaammmeee

lewishamilton 💎💎 comment liked by yourusername

user14 okay so now i know what the next thing is i'm saving my money for ⤷ user15 y/n is every penny saved worth spending on

♡ liked by 192,837 people

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

f1gossip Lewis Hamilton and fashion designer Y/N Y/L/N, founder of Contessa, have been spotted holding hands on multiple occasions during this years New York Fashion Week. The driver became one of the brand's fashion ambassador end of last year and has been seen around the designer more than often, leading to speculations of the couple dating. Is this their way of confirming the rumours or just two co-workers enjoying the fashion week?

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user16 honestly i called it

user17 are we surprised? no. but i am giggling and kicking my feet.

user18 i need an official statement right now or i cannot sleep properly

user19 they knew they'd slay if seen together

user20 officially the new it couple on my list

♡ liked by yourusername, contessa, lewishamilton and 283,495 others

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton, contessa

voguemagazine Y/N Y/L/N and Lewis Hamilton stun in custom Contessa at the 2023 Met Gala. This marks the couple's first official public appearance.

#MetGala #Y/N_Y/L/N #Lewis_Hamilton #Contessa

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user21 they both ate everyone UP OML

user22 i know it was rumoured already but to have them as a real couple now has me feeling excited for them all over again

user23 nothing is more fashion than announcing your relationship at the met gala ⤷ user24 they're so slay

user25 i thought u weren't meant to mix your work life and private life

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x y/n #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1

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oddballwriter · 1 year

Text

The Sticky Note Game

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: You have a silly little game that you, Jake, and Steven play. But someone accidentally messes it up and ends up finding out about said game.

Warnings: None that I actually know of. “Y/N” is used two times.

Author’s Snip: Just a cute thought I had and wanted to write about.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

It was a game that was originally between you and Jake. It worked like tag where someone was it and they had to make the other person it. But instead of running around the flat and making a bunch of ruckus you would write on a piece for sticky note and hide it where the other would see it. You weren’t sure when this started but it was a thing the two of you did together and was actually really fun when it came down to watching and waiting for the other to see the note and then be it. Well, it was between just you and Jake till Steven found the sticky note that was meant to get Jake.

He was looking through the fridge to see if there were any items that would expire soon. Jake had some beer bottles on one of the shelves that he placed next to the oat milk which he was going to check until he noticed the sticky note attached to one of the bottles that had “You’re it >:)” written on it. He took it off and asked you why it was there.

You laughed for a bit and told the even more confused Steven about this game you played with Jake. Steven nodded in understanding before looking back at the sticky note and then asking “So, what? Does this mean I’m it now?”.

After that, you and Jake had changed the rules to make the game fair. You needed to write who its to, who it was making the tag, no double tags, and you couldn’t say if you knew where a sticky note was. Oh, and co-fronting when a sticky note was being made was cheating because the two alters could tag each other and if you are co-fronting when your tagging note was found by another it counts because you technically saw it.

This game of three went on for a long while too.

Till there was a bit of an issue...

It had been two whole months, and no new sticky note was found and you were starting to get suspicious. You were it and had made a note that would tag Steven by putting the note on the back of one of his books. But Steven made no sign that he saw it. Which didn’t make sense since the book moved spots. So he had to have seen it and had made a sticky note to tag someone else. But none appeared. You even went looking for a note, regardless of it would make you it again.

Out of all of the players to possibly cheat, Steven seemed like he would never. But you shouldn’t put it past him, Steven can be a bastard if he wants to be.

But it turns out that all three of you were silently eyeing each other up since there was no sign of and new tags. Soon Steven decided to go looking for a new sticky note in case it was just that well hidden.

“Steven,” Marc said as he watched Steven looking through the whole flat for something from a nearby refection. “What the hell are you doing? Did you drop something?” he asked. “No. I’m looking for a sticky note, mate.” Steven responded. Marc jerked an eyebrow in confusion. “A sticky note? Wouldn’t that be where you put all your sticky notes?” he asked.

“No. It’s not any sticky note, Marc. It’s a specific one.” Steven clarified and he moved to a different spot to check. “Well, what’s it for?” Marc asked as he followed Steven with a new reflective surface. Steven sighed before speaking. “Okay. Don’t laugh. But me, Y/N, and Jake play this tag game using sticky notes and we put them places for us to find. But it’s been a while and no one’s found the bloody thing.” Steven explained. “I wanna make sure no one’s went on and cheated.” Steven says.

“Who was it last?” Marc asked. “I don’t know, mate. That’s the point.” Steven responded. “I think that would be Y/N.” Marc said out of the blue. “There was a sticky note on the back of one of your books from them to you but it just had a smiley face on it.” Marc confessed. Steven almost banged his head on the bottom of the table he was looking under. “What did you do with it?” Steven asked as if it were life and death. “Which one is it, Marc?” he said looking right at the surface Marc was on. “The green one. I killed a spider with it and saw it on the back.” Marc explained, “I took it off though cause I killed the spider using the back and it got on the sticky note.” he admitted.

“Finally!” Steven exclaimed as he went towards his desk to write on a sticky note to tag someone.

“How long have you three been doing this.” Marc questioned. “Oh, I’ve been playing for while but the other two were the ones playing it originally, I just sort of walked into it and they let me be a part of it.” Steven explained as he took the note off of he pad and placing it in Jake’s hat. “Don’t tell Jake that’s there.” he said to Marc.

“Okay?” Marc said before standing there in the reflection for a moment. “Do you want to join? Seems kind of rude to tell you about the game and not let you participate.” Steven offered. Marc shrugged with a “Sure.”.

A week had passed, during which you heard Jake shout “Son of a bitch!” when he found the note Steven left.

You had woken up in the morning a few days after that and were getting ready to take your morning shower till you noticed a sticky note addressed to you on one of your shampoo bottles saying,

“I’m playing the game now. You’re it.

- Marc”

#moon knight #moonknight #moonknight x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader

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nyarumie · 2 months

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Brains to Brawn. (Chapter 3)

narumi gen x f!reader — 2.2k words, co-workers to lovers, slowburn, multiple parts, semi canon compliant, they're both in denial (later on).

STATUS: Ongoing. Chapter links: 1, 2, 3

Author's Note: Please send some feedback about the pacing and characterization! I unintentionally turned this into a slowburn series 😭

Cross-posted on ao3. — Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are also appreciated; Happy reading ♡ Ask box is open!

Feeling oddly good about yourself today, joyful hums are heard coming from you while brewing your favorite daily dose of iced coffee. You made your way to your work table, co-workers staring inquisitively at you—was it weird to have little skips on your steps as you prepare to work for the day?

To say that you were happy is an understatement. You were practically glowing.

"Ahem." one of your friends tried catching your attention.

"Hmm?"

"Did something happen after the test yesterday? You're awfully… flowery today." Your small friend group was surrounding you, waiting to hear you spill some juicy details.

"Oh!" you started. As if to show you were proud, you crossed your arms and held your head high. "I'm going to be a millionaire!" you declared.

A chorus of 'Huh?' was heard, your declaration earning the attention of a few of your co-workers.

"Scratch that, I'm going to be a billionaire!" you said, determination exuding off you.

Just as they were about to ask if you're in your right mind, a stack of papers hit your head.

You turned towards your 'attacker', glaring playfully at him. "Wha— That hurts! Was that necessary, Kurusu?!"

He sighed, "Go back to your stations. And you—What were you thinking?" he sounded exasperated.

You tilted your head, confused.

He sat beside you and whispered, "What happened to rejecting the proposal?"

"Oh. Didn't you want me to accept it? I have my own good reason for it too, you know?" He raised his eyebrow at you, curious to hear your reason.

"... Salary Adjustments?"

And he smacked you with the papers once more.

"Hitting me again?! You said the same thing last night! How many people in the defense force are offered such an amount? It's too good to miss out on that!" you argued.

Waving his hand in dismissal, he handed you important documents for you to fill out. "I told you to think it over for three days, not overnight. Just answer these forms within the day and return it to me."

One of these forms is the application for new recruits. Staring blankly at it, you totally forgot it'll be held only 2 days from now… and you have no idea how to prepare for it! It's not like you've held a gun before, nor fought any Kaiju? Hell, you even bawl your eyes out at the sight of a roach and it flies off before you can even hit it! Oh, you're definitely gonna die now.

Kurusu snorted beside you, snapping you out from your thoughts. "It's too late to regret your decision now. I should've clarified it's more than just the salary adjustments I told you about." Is he a mind reader?

"It's not too late if I don't sign these forms, right…?" you asked, a mix of nervousness and hope evident in your tone.

"Good plan. But you shouldn't have addressed Captain Shinomiya in your email. He'll be expecting you."

You groaned, your head thumping down on your table.

"I'm gonna die… Don't wanna die… I'm gonna die… Don't wanna…"

You earned highly concerned looks from your co-workers, hearing you mumble repeatedly and mood significantly plummeting.

Feeling bad, Kurusu offered you a two-day paid leave for your preparation, but you're sure he's just pulling some strings to make it happen.

"No thanks. I'll work as normally as I can. I hope." You opened your work-issued laptop, timidly starting one of your few remaining normal work days.

Morning session passed by like a breeze. You were too cooped up in your work, one of your friends had to drag you all the way to the Cafeteria to get some lunch. Instead of lining up for a perfectly balanced meal, you went to grab an instant cup noodle in their snack station and filled it with hot water. Your realization from this morning took away your appetite, so it seems. You weren't in the mood to mingle with them either.

Bidding farewell to your friends, you made your way to the long-range training room observatory, deciding to watch fledgling recruits; you might pick up a few pieces of advice from the senior officers training them too. Not that you'd ask them directly, though. You're basically just eavesdropping, albeit obviously.

Upon entering the room, you nod in acknowledgement at your co-workers stationed there. One of them pointed at your cup noodles, then made an 'X' with their arms. You simply returned a mindless shrug, knowing you can chug this thing down within 5 minutes.

You made yourself comfortable on a seat, enjoying the view and your 'meal'. Seems like the shooting training has yet to start, you're just right in time then. From below, Platoon Leader Hasegawa can be seen going through final checks and reminders as the recruits gather behind him, bearing their standard long-range weapon.

"Listen up! You all have been on this line of job for a year now. We'll be going back to the basics from your very first training—one of them is reaction time. According to the memo, punishment is due to those who fail to at least show two times the better result than the record they had from a year ago. Are we all clear?"

A chorused 'Yes, sir!' resounded from the recruits, them obviously thinking it would be a piece of cake. What Hasegawa didn't mention, however, is that the shooting targets pop out much faster and they're moving in random directions at the same time. And the number of targets is significantly multiplied.

The first few officers who volunteered were found sulking at the very back of the pack. Not only did they fail to beat their amateur records, they weren't even able to find the locations of the other targets! As a result of this, the remaining officers were visibly anxious and discouraged, subtly pushing each other to go first.

"What are they? High Schoolers?" you mumbled. Though, you find yourself pitying them. A year of service in the Defense Force and the level of training is upped by this much—it does seem cruel. But that's the harsh reality. If they can't deal with these wooden shooting targets, what more if it's a real Kaiju jumping out to attack them at the same time from different directions?

You slurp down the rest of your meal, giving your now undivided attention to the training. You noted that the wooden targets have a specific echoing sound upon popping up due to the strain held by the metal holding them, and their volume determines which area they're located in. This observation allowed you to guess their number, treating it like some kind of minigame.

"Commencing in 3…"

You close your eyes as you hear the countdown, trying to focus your senses on your hearing. If you recognize the distinct sound and volume resounding from the dummies, you might be able to tell just how many of them there are.

"2…"

Suddenly, you feel stupid for doing this. You haven't even learned anything from watching them. How could you know better than they do? They're the ones on the field.

"1… begin."

'Ah… three dummies for Ground A this time?' you thought.

"25 seconds—Ground A clear!"

"4 on B and 3 on C," you mumbled. The echoes from Ground B and C aren't as loud as A's, so you expected Ground D's sound to be even softer.

"4 minutes and 12 seconds—Ground B and C clear! Officer now heading towards Ground D."

"5 on D… No, it's 6. Sixteen targets overall?"

"18 seconds on Ground D—all clear! Total record: 4 minutes and 55 seconds, 2 minutes slower than the previous record."

Before you can even hear your co-worker announce the total targets cleared, you abruptly open your eyes at the sound of someone talking to you, catching you by surprise. A pair of pink-reddish hues meet your own eyes.

"Bravo. How'd you guess that?"

Leaning right at your face is Platoon Leader Narumi. He's too close to your face, too close for your comfort! Is he shameless?! How long has he been observing you and your stupidly mindless action?

You put some distance from him, subtly pushing your chair backwards.

"Just some quick observations, I guess…?" you answered briefly, unsure whether he'd like to hear you ramble.

"Tell me more."

How do you even start this? He might not follow your line of thought. But here goes nothing. "Um, the dummies pop out with a distinct sound. I've heard what one pop sounds like in each area, so imagination is key to assuming how loud it'd sound if multiple of them appear at the same time." you paused, checking to see if he's still listening.

He, in fact, seems absorbed in your explanation. With newfound confidence, you continued, "As for which area, the farther they are, the softer they sound. I believe no further explanation is required here. Bottomline is, hearing one pop in each Ground is the key."

Still intently observing you, you spoke up again. "Is there something wrong?"

He pointed at the recruits below, now being lectured by Hasegawa.

"These dimwits who already had an experience of one year got outsmarted by you. That's what's wrong."

He stood up straight and continued, "Not only do they fail to showcase their improvement, their senses and heads weren't working at all. Makes you wonder how they're still alive after all those attacks."

'Well, you probably soloed most of the Kaiju…' you thought.

"You're making it seem like a big deal that I guessed the numbers. I work in the Operations, isn't it normal for us to be more observant than most people?"

You hear a co-worker chuckle. "Ah, well, the thing is, you're the most detail-oriented out of all of us. Remarkably good hearing too. That's why you're our designated eavesdropper—or gossiper, rather." they joked.

Narumi snickered. "Why're you here anyways? Desperate for advice?" he taunted, wiggling his eyebrows. "My word comes with a price, just saying."

You stood up and crossed your arms, wanting to appear grumpy. "Whatever price it is, I'm not paying it. I don't need any help at all."

"The price is helping me with my training. Right now. What do you say?"

…Were you hearing things? Help with his training? So many officers would beg and die to be offered this opportunity.

"I have work to do."

"Nahh, I'll have Kurusu deal with that." He grabbed your wrist without warning and led you away, earning worried stares from the people stationed behind.

"...Pray tell, how is this exactly training?"

"Mhm? I'm showing you my shooting skills, and you get to assist me with that. And— Hey, watch out! They're attacking you from the back!" he screamed, his focus still on the huge TV display in front of you.

That's right. The training he offered you is playing a 2-player shooting game. You seemed like you needed advice, and luckily (for him), he needed a player 2 to get the reward locked behind co-op. Fair trade, he'd say. It's not like you have any other choice again, so you quickly pushed away the disbelief you initially felt when he led you to his game room office. Two separate blankets were draped over your heads, sitting cross-legged with a pillow to support your arms.

You hear him sigh out in relief as you both finish the current level, as if he was holding his breath for the entire fight. "6:43 PM. We'll finish at exactly 7 for your dinner."

Oh, so he wasn't totally inconsiderate. You've been cooped up here for the entire afternoon, hoping that Kurusu wasn't hosting a search party for you. It was also kinda your fault for incorporating his gaming habits into his training schedule recommendations.

You played wordlessly, following along his instructions. You got the grasp of the game after an hour of playing, but leave it to the expert to take charge. He wasn't lying when he said you'd finish at exactly 7, the huge golden "Congratulations" banner displayed on the screen.

"Meh. That was too fast."

Looking at him incredulously, you said, "You call that fast? My ass hurts from sitting here for the entire afternoon!"

"But you stayed anyway, though?"

Ah, well… that was true. He never said you couldn't leave. But somehow, you felt like you can't.

"Can I now, then? I'm hungry." Standing up and going straight to his door, you didn't fail to notice how serious his expression has gotten.

"How do you feel now? What are you thinking of?" he asked.

"I feel… hungry? I can't think of anything to think of." Not knowing why he asked those out of the blue, but it was a harmless question to begin with.

He turned his back to you, moving to turn off his gaming console. "Good. Remember that."

"What?"

"Don't think of anything. Just do what you can in the moment. You'll know once you're there. That's my piece of advice."

Oh. He's right—you totally forgot about the recruitment. But it didn't stress you out as it did before. Did he also feel this way when he took the tests? Probably not. But you're sure he does whatever he can at all times.

A soft smile adorned your face, thinking that he wasn't such an ass after all. "Thank you, Platoon Leader Narumi. I'll make sure to remember it. I'll be on my way now, then."

Once he heard the door close, he lightly scratched his nape. Truth be told, he only did this to slightly repay you for looking over him as his personal manager. Still, this was so unlike him. Maybe he was the one feeling restless?

He'll definitely watch you on your examination.

#kaiju no. 8 #axia writes for fun #kn8 writing #kn8 x reader #gen narumi #kaiju number 8 #kn8 x you #narumi gen x reader #narumi x reader #narumi gen fluff #narumi fluff #narumi

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good-griief · 1 year

Note

Hii! Could you maybe try to write something about sexting Abby while she's at work? Thanks💗

guess whos back!!! goodness this is late but i hope you enjoy<33

For some reason, despite Abby saying she couldn’t work nights, her boss had put out a schedule where she was only working late shifts. It was early enough that it wasn’t “nights”, so she couldn’t protest, but it was late enough that she often had to stay later due to someone calling in or some tasks taking an obscene amount of time.

She was pissed, to say the least.

And you were missing your nights with her.

Usually, with this new schedule, if she ran overtime she’d get home around 8:00 or 8:30, but it was getting to be 9.

You were in bed, watching a movie when you called her. The phone rang a few times, and just as you were going to hang up and assume she was driving, she picked up.

“I’m leaving soon,” she answered.

“Abs, you’re supposed to be done by seven. It’s—“

“I know what time it is,” she was quick to say. “I had meetings all day, so I didn’t have any time to get anything done. I’m finishing up now, okay?”

“You couldn’t have just left after your meetings?” She didn’t answer, but since sounded so stressed, voice gritted and tired, you left it alone. “Alright. Is it okay if I eat without you, then?” You asked her. “I’m getting tired.”

“You haven’t eaten yet?” You could hear her click something on her computer before her chair squeaked, the sound of her leaning back to give you her full attention.

“I always wait to have dinner with you.” She was quiet. “How much do you have left?”

There was a faint clicking and typing in the background before she sighed. “You should eat.” You pursed your lips, your silence letting her know you were irritated. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

She then hung up.

You weren’t going to eat without her just yet, so you kept your movie on. By the time it was over, it’d been an hour with still no sign of Abby.

That was when you decided to eat, dishing up for yourself and leaving a serving for your girlfriend before putting away the leftovers and beginning to eat.

You fell asleep shortly after, leaving Abby to come home to a dark house and her cold meal waiting on the table.

She brought it to bed with her, which was where she found you fast asleep.

The next morning, you woke up with no sign of Abby except for a note.

Went in early so I could get home for dinner.

It was brief, straight to the point, and aggravating. First, she stays after her meetings, and now she leaves early. Of course, you could tell she felt bad about missing dinner, but that was the least of your concerns.

You were determined to make her just as frustrated as you were.

That started with a shower. With this new schedule, you’d usually take one with her in the morning, so you didn’t want her to miss out. Which, of course, was why you brought your phone in with you, taking a video that you sent to your girlfriend before turning on music and finishing your shower.

When Abby’s phone pinged, she knew it was you, as you were the only contact that got through her ‘do not disturb’. She had her co-worker, Manny, stop what they were doing in case it was important.

When she immediately went red, he laughed loudly. “I take it she’s had enough of this new schedule?” He asked, raising a brow as Abby stared at her screen. “Abby—“

“Huh?” She snapped her head up. “Oh… Uh, she…” She swallowed, quickly thinking of something. “Made my favorite breakfast?”

Manny laughed even more, waving her off. “If you need to get home—“

“No, no, I’ll end up with an even shittier schedule next month.” She took another glance down at her phone before pocketing it.

When you didn’t get the reply you wanted, you decided to keep going. There was no way she didn’t see it, which meant she was trying to ignore it, and that only egged you on.

Another ping came from Abby’s phone during a meeting, putting the useless meeting on pause.

“Sorry,” she said. “Girlfriend’s at home, sick,” she quickly came up with. “I should check if it’s important.” She excused herself when Isaac shooed her away, heading to the bathroom to see what you could’ve possibly sent her now. As soon as she saw the toy on the floor and your thighs on either side she closed the video.

incoming message abby🤍

You giddily picked up your phone, only to roll your eyes.

that's enough.

you don’t like it?

Her typing bubble appeared and disappeared several times, making you chuckle as you waited for her to compose herself. When it disappeared for several moments, you gave her a little nudge.

take your time

Almost immediately, she replied.

don’t do that.

you know what you do to me…

i can’t even watch those right now baby. i won’t be able to focus.

You had a feeling that all she was doing was watching those videos. Especially with how long she took to respond to you.

focus on me then

i need you right now

you know if i could come home i would...

this isn’t fair.

what isn’t fair?

don’t do this right now.

Her next message made you smile, knowing you had her wrapped around your finger if she really left a meeting to check what she knew would be a distraction.

i’m in the middle of a meeting.

Just as she went to put her phone away, it chimed again.

i missed you this morning abs.

woke up alone.

that wasn’t very fair to me.

Again, she typed and stopped. You figured she was trying not to start something while she was taking a "bathroom break" during a meeting, but you knew she'd never not reply to you.

i’ll make it up to you.

i have to go now angel.

but when?

tonight.

promise.

i want you now

need you

Her short messages made you squeeze your thighs, knowing she was pent up and forcing herself not to respond the way she wanted to.

baby

come on

i can’t do this right now

So, you took the opportunity to make her have to do this now.

please? nothing makes me feel like you do

i’m so wet and i can’t fucking finish abs.. not without you

i need you

how many times will you make me say it? i’ll beg if you want me too abby please

It took her a little while to respond, making you think she'd either shut off her phone, or you took too long to type and she went back to her meeting.

In reality, she'd gone back some time ago, and was incessantly checking her phone while crossing her legs under the table.

She had the tendency to try and challenge herself, but clearly this— you were too much for her.

fuck okay

i’ll try to get home

just give me a few minutes

you can wait for me can’t you?

She was quick to tell everyone how you needed her at home, leaving her friends to laugh in their seats as she excused herself while keeping an eye on her phone.

just tell me what to do

you don’t even have to come home

i’ll show you everything

i’ll be good

be good and wait for me to come home.

there’s no way i’m letting you touch yourself if i’m not there to watch.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby anderson hcs #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson headcanons #abby tlou #abby anderson drabble #abby anderson x you #abby anderson blurb #abby smut #the last of us abby #abby anderson fic #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson smut #abby anderson au #abby anderson ff

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venus-haze · 2 years

Text

Baby Let's Play House (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: After noticing your exhaustion in trying to balance managing Homelander’s day-to-day and your relationship with him, he decides that you’d be happier behind a white picket fence than an office desk. You initially agree, but the housewarming party you throw reveals how differently the two of you view your relationship.

Note: This can be read as being related to My Destruction Is an Hour Late, but you don’t need to read that to understand what’s happening in this. Reader is a cis woman, but no other descriptors are used. First time incorporating Homelander’s perspective into a fic, also I took some creative liberties on how his costume works. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Homelander is his own warning (I never tag his stuff as yandere because that’s just how he is), but toxic relationship that includes possessive tendencies, gaslighting, guilting. Mirrorlander makes an awful, misogynistic appearance. Sexually explicit content which involves coercion/dubcon, oral (m. receiving), brief orgasm denial and choking. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Dating your direct superior was undoubtedly an ethics violation, but the trembling HR manager who signed off on Vought’s workplace relationship disclosure form couldn’t conjure up any protests when Homelander and you showed up at her office to make your relationship “HR official.” When you’d expressed concern about how dating him would affect your career, he scoffed, ‘What are you talking about? Babe, I am your career.’ You faltered under the weight of his gaze, knowing full well he could hear your heart skipping frantically along as you thanked him for his reassurance.

He’d resisted the idea at first, one you brought up almost immediately after you’d become his girlfriend and he gave you a promotion. He was The Homelander. He didn’t need Vought’s permission to date you. It wasn’t until you reframed it as a declaration rather than permission that he was on board. Stan Edgar could read the damn form and weep. No more publicity relationships, not when he had you. It didn’t take long for things to spiral out of control from there.

Your coworkers treated you differently, with a nervous politeness that was unsettling and isolating. Loneliness settled in soon after, almost as if by design. Suddenly, Homelander was the only one you could turn to, and by the nature of your job, he was almost always there, ready to fill whatever emotional void you needed filled, from co-worker to lover. He thrived off of your dependence, each display of it a hit that coursed through his veins. An addict in thought, he couldn’t get enough of you.

When he brought up this idea to you, not long after his grandiose proposal, you welcomed it. A cozy house in the suburbs didn’t sound so bad compared to the whirlwind of your responsibilities at Vought managing Homelander’s day to day on top of your relationship with him.

Now, as you walked up the pathway to the front door with the last of the groceries you’d needed before the housewarming party you were hosting the following night, the white posts of the picket fence that surrounded the house looked more like teeth rising out of the ground to devour you, red roses planted along the perimeter painted droplets of blood on the unhinged jaw. You knew it was never your choice.

Most of the time, things were good, and you and Homelander fell into a comfortable, domestic rhythm. When things were bad, however, there was nothing you could do but sit back and wait for it to end. That hadn’t happened in a while, and despite your excitement for the party, you could tell he wasn’t nearly as enthused. You foolishly hoped that the night you’d been planning for weeks wouldn’t end in disaster.

Almost as soon as you finished unpacking the groceries you’d bought, you considered what to make for dinner. Despite Homelander’s enhanced palette, he wasn’t that picky when it came to your meals. You wished he expressed some preference, though, since your Pinterest board for recipes was out of hand, even with your organizing it as best as you could.

“Hey babe,” Homelander greeted you with a smack on the ass, a domestic yet outdated gesture he favored upon seeing you in the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

He never used the services of Vought’s chefs after you and he began “going steady,” even though he did like their food more than yours objectively. Getting food cooked by a chef in an industrial kitchen and then brought up by an intern was too impersonal. You cooked with love, always adding a personal touch that made even the overcooked chicken cacciatore you’d served a few nights before worth eating.

“Do you consider soup a meal?”

“What is this, a Seinfeld episode?” he asked. “I don’t know. I guess it depends on the soup.”

“French onion.”

“That’s basically a deconstructed French dip. Sure, that’s a meal.”

“Perfect, I’ll make that, then.” you said. “I’m so excited for the party tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’ll be a blast,” he mumbled, leaning against the kitchen counter and folding his arms across his chest.

“C’mon, I get to spend the whole night showing off my amazing fiance and our incredible home,” you smiled, giving him a kiss on his clenched jaw.

His pouty mood cracked just the slightest bit, though he didn’t like how your attention had been all over the place in the week or so leading up to the housewarming party rather than solely on him. It was all you could talk about, and to add insult to injury, you’d started ordering him around far too much for his liking. You’d ask about his day as if it were an obligation to do so, a segue into ‘Pick up these streamers’ and ‘Remember to ask Jason and Patricia about their baby’ and ‘Tell Vought you need to be home by five.’

His biggest reason for even getting you this house and convincing you to quit your job at Vought was so you’d have more time for him. Even though your work schedule had been mostly dictated by him, you found yourself exhausted most nights, passing out in bed almost as soon as dinner was over. That was no fun at all.

Far too soon for his liking the next day, your stupid friends made their way up the street and to the house, bottles of wine and wrapped gifts in tow. He realized that he shouldn’t have left so much of the planning to you. To his displeasure, the guests were evenly co-ed. Though your hugs and greetings to the men who entered your home were polite and platonic, he didn’t like it. Not one damn bit. Who the fuck kissed someone’s cheek as a greeting anymore anyway?

He watched as you played hostess, a tornado of hospitality as you ran yourself in circles around the house to refill drinks and jump in on conversations. You looked like you were having the time of your life, and his gloved hands balled into fists at his side every moment your attention wasn’t squarely on him, especially when you were all dressed up the way you were. None of them deserved to see how perfect you looked.

Finally, he crept up on you while you were speaking with your old college roommates who’d asked you to give the details on how you and Homelander got together. He was more than happy to indulge them, his arm tight around your waist as he took control of the narrative.

The version of the story that left Homelander’s mouth almost made you choke on your own spit. Of course, it started at work, with you harboring a crush on Homelander for far longer than he’d even noticed you. Your persistence was cute, though, and soon enough you’d wormed your way into his routine. Curious about your infatuation, Homelander would make excuses to keep you in the office late, until the projects became canoodling. He’d finally asked you out on a date, and you graciously offered to cook dinner for him.

He’d flipped the whole thing on its head. You had helped him with one project, and in the months spent building up your reliability, he was the one who’d become infatuated with you, until almost your entire life revolved around him. His story was far more palatable, as evidenced by your friends’ expressions of congratulations and how lucky you were.

You supposed you were lucky in a way. Homelander made sure you had nothing to worry about, except for him, of course. His moods were increasingly volatile as he was slowly pushed out of the spotlight of The Seven. The glance he gave you, loving to the untrained eye, was a warning. Despite your hope that the housewarming party would open up Homelander to the idea of you getting a bit more social interaction outside of just him, it was proving to have the opposite effect.

Then again, he never wanted to have a good time at the party, as you dejectedly reminded yourself. It was a shame, your friends all seemed to like him well enough, even if you did catch him being backhandedly rude to some of them a few times that night. He was so good at pretending when it came to the fans he supposedly hated so much. You weren’t sure why he couldn’t put up a front for a few hours for your friends.

By the time everyone left, you were exhausted. Drained physically and mentally from the demands of the party and your fiance, you were glad you’d opted for disposable plates and cups. The little clean up you had to take care of was just manageable enough to take care of before you headed up to bed.

“Glad that’s over,” Homelander said, drying the charcuterie board you’d handed him.

“Why were you so determined not to have fun tonight?” you asked.

“Excuse me if I don’t find entertaining your idiotic friends fun.”

“Then you suck it up and pretend, for me.”

“Don’t—don’t pull that.”

“Pull what?”

“That ‘for me’ thing. Everything I do is for you,” he said, huffing before lowering his voice, his icy glare making your breath catch in your throat. “You don’t need them. You don’t need anybody. Not when you have me.”

“Homelander, codependency isn’t—“

“Don’t pathologize me!” he shouted, slamming his hand on the granite countertop which cracked from the force he used. Upon noticing your terrified expression, he drew back a bit, letting out an unnerving laugh in an attempt to ease the tension he’d created. “You almost made me lose my temper there, missy.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, wide-eyed as you moved to take a tentative step back from him.

He quickly grabbed your arm, keeping you in place. “I know you are, darling, but a love like ours–it can’t be put into clinical terms.”

Fuck. You hit that specific nerve. It took him a while to open up about his childhood, the real one, not the Midwest little leaguer who loved god, mom, and the good ol’ US of A, in that order. That story sold comic books, it was comforting to watch on screen, the warm apple pie with a scoop of melting vanilla ice cream. Not even born in a lab, by his own accounts, but dumped from a test tube and caged like any other animal used for experimentation. Except Homelander had been a boy, scared and alone as white coats filtered in and out of exam rooms and testing labs, poking and prodding. Though, torturing was more like it, pushing him to see the extent of his powers, whether their unbreakable hero was truly unbreakable. Then he was unleashed onto the world, the weight of it on his shoulders.

Something was wrong with him, psychologically at least, and you knew the unhealthy fixation on your relationship as his sole source of emotional fulfillment would have sent you packing if it were anyone else. Every time you considered leaving, as if you even could, you just as quickly thought of how scared and hurt the most powerful man in the world looked when he recounted every painful experiment he endured, the plethora of human rights violations that became so entrenched in his identity. The ensuing tug of empathy and guilt at your heartstrings made you stay.

Still, you had to let him know that you wouldn’t tolerate an outburst like that just because you’d had a lapse in judgment when it came to your phrasing.

“I think you should stay at your old place tonight,” you said.

“Babe, c’mon, the counter can be fixed. I’ll have someone at Vought call a contractor tomorrow and—“

“That’s not what I mean.”

“You still love me right?” he asked, desperately searching your face for an answer. “Right?”

“Of course I do, but we both need space to cool off.”

He huffed, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Fine, have it your fucking way. As always, babe.”

He stormed out before you could get another word in, you mentally sent your apologies into the universe to whoever would end up being at the receiving end of his wrath.

A few cars were lasered to smoldering hunks of metal on his way to Vought Tower. He didn’t care, the company had millions of dollars set aside each year for superhero-related collateral damage. After all, they weren’t even nice cars as far as he could tell. He was doing them a favor that’d go unappreciated, not unlike you.

Homelander’s arrival to his suite was devoid of any fanfare or announcements of his return. He was embarrassed to be back. Standing dejectedly in the dark doorway, he glared at every object in the room with disdain. It’d been a fine place to live before he knew any better, before he’d experienced what a home truly felt like. You’d once described it as like being in a museum, and he couldn’t disagree. At one time he thought it was to his taste. Now, the suite he’d resided for so many years without you felt cold, hollow, and unfamiliar.

He looked out on the city, rage boiling in his veins. Things were fine when it was the two of you against the world. Your shitty friends had to come in and ruin that. No matter how hard he tried, it was like you refused to listen to reason and see that he did everything because he loved you. He loved you so much it hurt.

“Now this is really pathetic.”

“You saw how pissed she was.” Homelander argued weakly against his sneering reflection.

“She’s a woman. That’s their default state when they’re running the show.”

“She’s not running the show.”

“Really? So that’s why you’re banished to the proverbial couch?” his reflection taunted.

Homelander swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do you suppose I do, then? Flowers? A box of chocolates?”

“No. That’s practically admitting you did something wrong. Do you remember how you got her in the first place? You didn’t ask. You took.”

Homelander nodded along as his reflection spoke.

“What you do is remind her who’s in charge. You’re the man of the house. Take the respect, the devotion, you deserve.”

You awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to a figure standing at the end of your bed. At first, you thought it was a dream, until the figure began to move. Turning on the lamp on your nightstand, its soft glow illuminated your side of the bed, casting shadows over your fiance’s face.

“Homelander!” you gasped. “Oh my god, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he said.

“You know what I mean.”

“You know the old saying, ‘Don’t go to bed angry.’ I already forgive you for tonight, but things need to change.”

“I need you to leave.”

“You don’t call the shots, babe. I’ve been way too lenient with you,” he said, a dangerous grin spreading across his face. “Think you need a reminder of who’s in charge here.”

“Honey, what’s this about? You know I love you.”

“Sure, but you don’t respect me.”

“Of course I respect you—“

“No, you don’t. By the end of the night, you will,” he said, before beckoning you over to him with a curl of his index finger. “C’mere, sweetheart. You haven’t even welcomed me home yet.”

You felt his eyes practically burning a hole through you as you silently complied, pushing back the covers you’d been bundled under and padding your way across the room to where he stood. He somehow loomed over you, stony-faced like a marble statue honoring a god with disdain for humanity. His eyes glistened as he took in your face, though, betraying the whirlpool of emotions that rushed through him whenever he was in your presence.

Dozens of dresses and lingerie sets had been casualties of his lust and strength, the material torn from your body like gift wrap and promptly replaced within a few days. This night was no exception, as with a flick of his wrist, your satin nightgown was a pathetic pile on the floor.

Though you expected as much, he captured your lips in a heated kiss that almost made you lose your balance with his intensity. He held you close, his arms wrapped around you the way old tree limbs twist and tangle around objects left in their course, time and nature making it impossible to separate the two without irreversible damage to both.

“John,” you whispered against his lips.

There were plenty of men named John. It was a disgustingly common name, chosen for him by Vought to give him that relatable, everyman persona. Bullshit. He wasn’t an everyman. He was a god. People praised and worshiped Zeus, Jupiter, Jesus, Homelander—not fucking John.

Whenever you used it, though, suddenly the name was his. His. Not some stupid placeholder the white coats gave him instead of “subject whatever.” He was grateful you couldn’t sense the crack in his facade, his heart skipping a beat at how lovingly you said his name. How could you ever expect him to want to share that? Reluctantly, he pulled back from you, releasing you from his embrace. He still had a point to make.

“Get on your knees.”

You looked almost confused by his words.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warned.

Slowly, you knelt on the shredded satin that lay at your feet, and with trembling hands unbuckled his belt, avoiding eye contact with the eagle that adorned it as if the metal bird of prey were judging you. You tried telling yourself there was no reason to be nervous, you’d given Homelander plenty of blowjobs before, but his mood was always much, much lighter when you did.

When you pulled down the spandex pants of his suit that was practically painted on him, you were greeted with an eye full of his hardening cock, already leaking with precum when you took it in your hand, eliciting a moan from him that seemed to echo through the bedroom. You stroked his cock, leaning in to give a teasing lick to the head that made his breath hitch.

“You like that baby?” you asked. “Do you want more?”

He whined, struggling to respond as you pumped his hardening length.

“C’mon, baby, use your words and—“

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, grabbing you by the root of your hair and shoving his cock in your mouth.

You gagged, trying to adjust yourself to the sudden change. Although, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to how big his cock was. The bulge in his suit certainly wasn’t compensating for anything.

“Go on, put that smart little mouth of yours to good use,” Homelander said, fingers still tangled in your hair as he tugged at your scalp. “Or are you so helpless without me that you can’t even suck a cock on your own?”

With a whimper, you did your best to massage his length with your tongue, taking as much of him as you could, though you never managed to fit all of him in your mouth. It wasn’t without a lack of trying. You gagged again, and this time he seemed to bore of your struggle and instead began fucking your throat at a merciless pace.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re it. You’re the only one for me. Why don’t you—fuck—get that?”

Your response was a garbled choking noise as you placed one hand on his thigh to steady yourself. The other reached out to fondle his balls, prompting an erratic thrust from him that nearly knocked you over. As unpredictable as Homelander could be, if you thought too much about how much self control he used to not accidentally kill you whenever the two of you were remotely intimate, your brain would start to feel fuzzy. Or maybe it was the way you couldn’t seem to catch your breath.

When you looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, he was barely able to keep his own open. Blonde hair flopped across his forehead, he looked at you with hooded eyelids, the faintest smirk flashing across his face before he groaned again, throwing his head back.

He never lasted all that long to begin with, woefully sensitive and touch-starved despite his experience. Normally, you found it endearing, but tonight you were grateful as you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle his mercilessly fucking your throat.

With another involuntary thrust, his cock twitched against your tongue. You struggled to swallow his cum that was pumping into your mouth. Some of it mixed with spit as it dribbled from the corners of your lips down your chin.

As Homelander pulled his cock from your mouth, he observed your ruined state—disheveled hair, puffy lips, tears tracked down your face. Pride filled his chest as he watched you try to catch your breath. He’d never pushed you quite this far before, and he wanted so much more.

“Messy little thing, huh?” he asked, swiping what had escaped your lips on his thumb and bringing it to your mouth.

With a shaky sigh, you wrapped your lips around his finger, weakly sucking the residue from it until he was satisfied, pulling it from your mouth.

He smiled, caressing your cheek with his wet thumb. “That’s my girl.”

You hummed in response, the most you could manage with how sore your throat felt. It was good enough for him, because he offered you his hand, pulling you up from your knees with ease. His gentleness as he laid you back on the bed felt almost foreign compared to his ruthlessness just minutes earlier.

The reprieve was short-lived, however. As soon as he shed the rest of his suit, he pounced, his eyes betraying the intention to devour you whole. Animalistic, manic, from his predatory gaze to the prominence of his canines, he could rip your throat out if he wanted to. There was no point in trying to conceal your concerning arousal at the thought, even if he hadn’t reached between your legs to feel your wet pussy, he could smell it on you from a mile away.

He licked his lips, leaning over you as he teased your clit while sliding his cock inside you.

“Oh my god,” you moaned.

Homelander grinned, rolling his hips against yours. “I know I am.”

He’d been aggressive in bed before, usually due to jealousy or possessiveness. The way he moved was far more calculated than impulsive, as if each thrust intentionally pushed you closer to climax as he rubbed circles on your clit instead of just him releasing pent up frustration and insecurity.

“You love taking it all, don’t you? Love the way I fill you up?”

His mocking tone went straight to your pussy, and you could hardly manage a coherent response as he pounded into you. Even then, it didn’t feel like enough, as you bucked your hips to get more of him.

He was studying you, observing every contortion of your face, feeling the way your wet pussy clenched around this throbbing cock as he thrust into it, the sound nothing short of obscene as it echoed with your desperate moans. Then, just as you were about to orgasm, he moved his hand away from your clit and pulled out of you so quickly, you almost started crying.

The look of hurt and betrayal on your face gave him conflicting feelings, but the one that won out was a smug superiority. He’d never loved anyone as much as he loved you, and it seemed like this ‘tough love’ approach was working. He wrapped his hand around your sore throat, his cold and intense stare as he leaned closer to your face sending a shiver down your spine that he could surely feel.

“You don’t come unless I say you can. You got that, sweetheart?” he asked, voice dripping with condescension.

You nodded weakly, a pained whimper trapped in your throat. As soon as he gave you a wicked grin in return, you knew that he wanted you to give in to your base desires like humans do. With so much of his life spiraling out of his control, he wanted to be sure he didn’t have to worry about you.

He released his vice grip on your throat, and, as if reading your thoughts from just a few minutes prior, leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck before grazing his teeth down the tender flesh, feeling your racing pulse’s vulnerability.

“John,” you breathed, your voice inaudible to anyone but him.

“I know, darling. You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Please,” you whimpered, “please.”

“It didn’t have to be this difficult, you know,” he mused, his fingers playing with your sensitive clit.

You choked out a sob at the almost painful feeling of overstimulation. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not that hard to be good for me, is it? To just do as I say?”

“No.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to remind you again,” he said, his voice soft and low as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

The emptiness you felt between your legs was soon filled again by his cock.

You fell limp at this point, no movements in an attempt to match his thrusts. His reflection had been right, he just needed to take what he wanted and remind you who was in charge. He was in control, all you needed to do was lie back, look pretty, and take it. You should be thanking him for making things so easy for you.

He kissed you, reveling in how sweetly you moaned in his mouth now that he had you exactly how he wanted you. Your heart was racing, he could tell you were getting close, and he was too, but he wanted you to come first, to be the one to fold and give in to him completely.

“It’s all right now, darling. I’ve got you,” he whispered.

It felt like all of your muscles tightened before your release, your hips rocking involuntarily as your orgasm rippled through your body. The pent up pleasure was almost too overwhelming, and you had to grab his bicep to ground yourself, digging your nails into his skin. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like you could break it anyway.

With the way your pussy squeezed his cock as you came, an unhinged moan and tears and vision clouded by stars, his own orgasm followed soon after. He never bothered with the pretense of pulling out. Filling you with his cum was right, it was natural, another way to lay claim to you. He hated condoms, but he knew his next course of action would be doing something about your pesky birth control soon.

You winced as you moved closer to his chest, allowing him to hold your body against his. Your muscles ached, and you knew that in the morning you’d hardly be able to move at all. It wasn’t uncommon with Homelander, and he loved your dependence on him on those mornings when he’d carry you from room to room, a reminder of his strength. He was the most powerful man in the world, you might as well have been a feather.

“How’re you holding up babe?” he asked.

“Fine,” you said softly.

He smiled, stroking your cheek. “I’m glad we’re on the same page now. It’ll make things so much easier, babe, you’ll see.”

You gave him a weak smile before closing your eyes, knowing fully well that he could hear by your thumping heart that you were faking sleep.

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #homelander x you #the boys x you #homelander imagine #homelander #the boys

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