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slushyxcx · 12 days ago

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Marlboro Reds

Summary: Hamzah, desperate and touch starved, struggles to articulate his desires for you and the tension between you two grows in a delicate dance of intimacy and uncertainty.

Chapter 1

Hamzah is slumming it on the balcony at Martin’s place on a Friday night.

Hamzah doesn't want to think about his week, or the endless pile of worries that he’s ignoring until they topple over and bury him. He just wants to let the sweet burn of nicotine scorch his lungs and quiet his mind.

But of course the moment Hamzah isn't distracting himself, he’s thinking about things he shouldn't think about.

Things like you.

You live halfway across the world but you're here to visit Mandy. You and Mandy have been friends since you both were teenagers, Mandy swears you were the one who was the bad influence but you absolutely disagree. Especially the stories of how after Mandy started driving, the both of you never went to class. You’re a bit eccentric, and so beautiful.

But other days you’re solemn, closed off, your gaze a million miles away. Faded, like a ghost of yourself. And Hamzah isn't sure why no one notices, why your faked smiles are so easily believed.

And there’s Hamzah’s favorite you (if he thought a lot about you, which he doesn't, but like, if he did), the you with the gang. You seem freer with them, looser and more uninhibited in the presence of only your friends. You curse more, make darker jokes and catch Hamzah’s eye with that sly smirk when you do, announce nerdy facts at random, roll your eyes and express emotions that you otherwise seem to keep contained. You don’t drink unless it's a party with the people you’re close with, your plastic cup otherwise filled with water or the host’s half assed attempt at mixers, you only smoke weed with Hamzah and you slip cigarettes out of your pocket like you’re used to keeping them hidden.

This you is the closest to the truth, Hamzah thinks, or maybe they're all different sides of the same person, like the way water changes shape but never composition.

It’s only recently that you have become a main character in his life, shifting from an untouchable ideal to someone real and tangible. Because lately-

Lately, you have been gravitating toward Hamzah, finding him in Martin’s office after recording a video, wandering up to him at parties, or stopping by his place to drop off whatever Mandy baked that day.

Hamzah never seeks you out, never initiates your time together, but he can’t bring himself to avoid you either. Instead he holds his breath, pretending he isn't glancing at the door of every party, lingering at Martin’s place, waiting to see if you will find him.

It’s just that you seem content to be in Hamzah’s presence, comfortable with sitting in silence when he is too angry or too high or too drunk to converse, ready to banter and tease when he is up for it. Maybe because Hamzah returns the favor, understanding on sight when you are not speaking for the day or remaining unfazed when your eyes get unfocused and paranoid.

But other than that, Hamzah does not think of you at all. Definitely not. And he doesn't even care that he can sense you creeping up on him.

He knocks the cigarette on the edge of the balcony, watching the ashes flutter down to the ground below, then speaks:

“You gonna hide in the shadows all night?”

You step into the light with a sheepish expression, hands tucked behind your back like you expect him to scold you for being there.

“Hi Hamzah.”

“Hey,” he uses your last name just to see your face scrunch up in a pout.

��Don't call me that.”

“No?” Hamzah finishes his cigarette and taps another two out of the carton, wordlessly passing one to you as well. He knows you don’t like his brand, preferring the fancy, European ones that you keep in a little silver monogrammed case like goddamn royalty, but lately you've been slumming it, accepting Hamzah’s humble cigarettes from their crumbled box. “Shouldn't you be saying I can call you whatever I want, as long as I call you?”

“Something tells me you still wouldn't call,” you reply dryly, your words sliding out around the cigarette in your teeth, leaning forward with it between your lips for Hamzah to light.

It is, for Hamzah, unbearably intimate, but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge, so he holds eye contact with you as he brings the lighter up, flame flickering. And it's worth it, because it makes you smile that small, secret smile as you lean back, taking the cigarette out of your mouth so you can exhale the smoke to the side. You are so beautiful, it almost makes Hamzah forget they’re technically holding a conversation, even if the words feel like just an excuse to keep their eyes on each other, to shuffle closer to speak.

“Think you've got enough people calling you.”

“Yeah? Maybe I should go smoke with them.”

“Hey, you followed me out here,” Hamzah points out. “I was fine here without pretty girls stealing my cigarettes.” Oh, that's an accident, a little too far over the line between banter and flirting, but it’s hard to regret it when it makes you blush so prettily, all pink cheeks and long fingers and smoke.

“Hmm.. and how many other pretty girls do you have stealing your cigarettes?” Your gaze flickers up and down Hamzah’s figure, evaluating, maybe, or sizing him up, or maybe just looking for the sake of looking, drinking in his presence.

Hamzah grins at the slant of jealousy in your tone, one you’re not quite able to hide.

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

You narrow your eyes a bit, playing your part, but Hamzah can see you're distracted, something else on your mind. You bring the cigarette to your mouth and inhale slowly, turning to look out at the darkness as you exhale the smoke, ignoring Hamzah’s watchful eye.

Hamzah finishes the cigarette, stubbing it out on the bannister he’s leaning against, and levels you with a look.

“Just spit it out already.”

“Hmm?” You feign innocence, but Hamzah won’t fall for your little cowed, pretty girl act. You may be a mystery, but he knows you, can read you better than most, at least.

Hamzah rolls his eyes.

“Whatever you’ve been working yourself up to say since you came out here.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to smoke.”

“If you wanted to be somewhere quiet, you wouldn't have crashed at Mandy’s and Martin’s in the first place.”

You huff, “fine.” You take a careful step closer to him, your gaze searching. “Are you high?”

He shifts against the bannister, eyeing you. “Not yet.”

“Drunk?”

“Nah,” he crosses his ankles, elbows propped on the bannister. “Why?”

You hum, staring up at the sky. Usually he might wait it out, let you work up to it, but it’s been a long week- his patience is running thin.

He calls out your last name.

“I just want to make sure you’re like.. hmm.” You tap one finger against your lips, searching for the word. “Coherent?”

“Coherent for what?” He asks, wary, but maybe not as wary as he should be, because he trusts you too much.

You inhale from your cigarette for a long, drawn out moment, until your lungs must be burning, then exhale out the smoke in a cloud around you. Even through the fog, your eyes stay on Hamzah, that deep, penetrating gaze, like you can see right into his soul. You open your mouth to speak, then shut it again.

“What is it?”

“Do you- I-” you start and stop, biting your lip as you hesitates. You take a fortifying breath, then:

“Can I kiss you?”

Hamzah could've guessed all night and still would not have predicted this phrase to fall from your perfect lips. He doesn't even have a sharp quip to respond with.

“... What?”

You smile at him shyly, looking up through your eyelashes, bashful in a way that must be an act because Hamzah’s never seen you be uncertain about what you want.

“Can I give you a kiss?” You repeat, voice soft and low, so different from that practiced, cheerful tone you use around strangers, around the others even.

Hamzah waits for more, for some explanation, but nothing comes.

“Why?” He can’t help the defensive, accusatory slant to his voice, automatically falling back to anger. “Is this a pity thing?”

You are unfazed by the heat in his voice. Your gaze flickers to the side like the answer might be there, then returns to Hamzah. The look in your eyes slides into something more genuine, a little nervous, a bit less coy. The real you. Hamzah unconsciously leans forward, automatically drawn to you.

“I just want to kiss you. But I don’t want to do something you don’t want.”

But why do you want to kiss me? He wants to blurt out, the idea so incongruent with reality.

“Uh,” Hamzah swallows, licks his lips. What does it say about him, that a kiss makes him so uncertain, that he can't remember the last time he was intimate with someone? What does it mean, that your act of basic human decency, asking for consent, makes his knees weak, makes his heart twist painfully in her chest?

He should say no.

He really should say no. Hamzah knows all the reasons he should say no, but god. It’s been a long week in a long year in a long life, and Hamzah is tired. He’s tired of holding back, of starving for contact, of hoarding any signs of affection. He’s so fucking tired, but this is you, you who have never asked him for anything but for him to be himself, and so Hamzah lets down his walls, however slightly, lets himself answer this one question honestly.

“Sure.”

“Really?” You don’t sound surprised, not really, but more like she’s seeking reassurance. Like she needs Hamzah to be sure. You study him, scanning his posture as if you’ll be able to determine if he really means it. “Are you sure? You don't have to. Honestly.”

“Yeah, uh. Yeah. You can kiss me. Or whatever.” Hanzah knows he’s blushing, he can feel the burn on his cheeks, so he has to hope it’s dark enough that you can’t tell.

Hamzah’s forced nonchalance is not even a little believable, but you don’t comment on it- you never do.

“Alright,” you say, soft as anything, as if it’s that simple, that easy.

You step closer and Hamzah can’t help it, the way his breath hitches in his throat, the way he digs his nails into the soft flesh of his palms to resist flinching backward.

Your eyes search his own, although Hamzah doesn’t know what you’re looking for. Whatever it is, you must find it, because you nod your head like something has been decided and then close the distance between them. Hamzah takes one more stilted inhale-

You raise your hands up, hold him by his cheeks and drag him close. Your lips meet, and his teeth bump into yours but everything fades into hazy bliss, slots together like a missing puzzle piece. Your lips, tender as honey exploring the taste of his tongue. It’s sweet and addicting, so much so that he gets dizzy and pulls away and fuck—he’s wrecked. Messy curls, teased by your clawing fingers stick up at odd angles, a rosy flush over his skin. You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch and plants a fleeting kiss over your palm.

He knew the kiss was a mistake.

Hamzah was fine, was just fine without being kissed or tenderly touched or any of that shit, and now how the fuck is he supposed to continue on like he was before when now he knows what it feels like to be held by you? When now he knows how it feels to have your hand gently carding through his hair, the press of your body against his own?

The safety, the security, the warmth

Fucking hell.

Now Hamzah knows what he’s missing.

It's like the first time he smoked weed and discovered the way the drug lifted his worries off his shoulders, made the world light and easy to handle for a few hours. How could he resist it after that?

And how can he resist you now?

He spends the weekend in a daze, restless and on edge. He walks into Martin’s place like he’s approaching the guillotine, somehow convinced that everyone will take one look at him and know. He slinks over to Martin’s office, in absolute denial that he’s glancing around looking for you. He doesn’t see any sign of you until after they’re done recording today’s Episode video. He and Martin exit the office and he spots you immediately - in an oversized shirt with a pair of shorts, Fish on your lap, and you’re with Mandy watching Real Housewives of New York. He doesn’t drag his eyes away fast enough, so soon enough he’s ensnared in your gaze. He watches your gaze flicker from that polite smile to something hungrier.

He spends the whole afternoon with you guys, binging season 8, on the opposite chair trying not to imagine he could swap places with Fish. How it would feel to rest his head on your thighs, and have you run your slender fingers through his curls

After, in the kitchen, when he’s on his way to leave and go home, Mandy comes close to brushing his arm as she passes him and Hamzah flinches away like he’s been shocked, slamming his own shoulder into the hard metal of the fridge in his effort to avoid being touched. The noise makes everyone turn to look at him, and Hamzah flips them all off so they’ll go back to their own fucking business. Everyone looks away, except-

Except you, whose heavy gaze stays focused on him. It should make him feel worse, should make him squirm under the scrutiny, but instead it just makes Hamzah feel hot, like he’s basking under the shine of your attention, a blush crawling up the back of his neck. He is so fucked.

Hamzah hurriedly scuttles out of the house before anyone can question him.

Once he’s relatively safe a few metres away, Hamzah lights a cigarette and takes a deep inhale, scolding himself internally. Why is he acting like a total freak over a fucking kiss?

He smokes the cigarette down to the filter, nearly burning himself, then drops the remains to the ground and suffocates it beneath his shoe. By the time he hears your footsteps approach, it’s dusk, the sun not quite gone but night hanging over the scene like a blanket. It occurs to him that he’d run away in case you would come looking for him. But maybe he hadn’t yet accepted that you would come looking for him. Or maybe he hoped he would.

“Hey Hamzah.” Just like you did the other night.

Hamzah scowls as he calls you by your last name.

You cross your arms, hip cocked, and look Hamzah over. It’s only now he’s noticing your huge obnoxious Homer Simpson slippers and god, have your legs always been this long? Hamzah barely resists pulling out another cigarette, just for something to do with his hands.

“You wanna talk about what’s got you all worked up?”

So casual, like you haven’t been the only thing on Hamzah’s mind since Friday.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” he practically hisses, defensive anger automatically winning out.

“No,” you agree with a sigh. “No, you don’t.” You hesitate and your stance softens, a look of guilt flooding into your eyes. “Listen- if I overstepped, or crossed a line-”

The only thought more intolerable than how much he wants a kiss is you thinking that the kiss was a mistake.

“Don't finish that sentence,” Hamzah snaps. “Stop being so.. so…”

“So…?”

“So understanding! So patient! Can’t you just fucking yell at me or something?”

“Why would I yell at you?”

“Because! Because I want- I want-”

How can Hamzah explain the embarrassment that is always tangled up in his want, the humiliation that comes with his desire?

You have that glint in your eyes again, like you’ve got Hamzah right where you want him. Like you’ve caught him at last.

And maybe Hamzah wants to be caught.

“If you want something,” you say slowly, “all you have to do is ask for it.”

Hamzah could fucking scream. He turns away from you abruptly and starts pacing, working himself up into a frenzy.

“Listen. Listen.”

You cross your arms and watch him pace with a bemused expression on your face. “I’m listening, Hamzah.”

“You… you just.. and now.. and how am I supposed to?”

“Starting with a full sentence would probably help,” you offer. Hamzah scowls even more, his pacing wearing a path into the gravel.

“FUCK. Okay. Okay.”

Hamzah stops abruptly in front of you, throws up his hands, and faces you head on. He can do this.

“Okay, you know… when we hung out the other day.”

“Up on the balcony? Yeah, I remember,” you say easily. Like maybe you’ve been thinking about it too.

“Right. So, you can like..” he throws one hand vaguely in the air, gesturing, “like. Whenever. You know?”

“No…?” Now you are pressing your lips together like you’re trying not to smile, one hand coming up to twirl a wayward lock of hair around your finger. “Can you be more specific?”

Hamzah huffs. “You know what I mean!”

“Hm… I don’t think I do.”

Hamzah squirms, glaring down at the gravel and dirt beneath them and scuffing at it with the toe of his shoe. “Fucker..” he mutters under his breath, then looks back up at you and your smug, expectant eyebrows.

“When we… kissed.” He grits out.

“Oh, when we kissed? What about it?” You would probably be more obnoxious if you weren’t so radiant when you smile, beaming at Hamzah like you’re proud he even brought it up. Hamzah focuses on that joy and lets out all his words in one breath.

“You don’t have to ask, alright? Like… if you want to kiss me, you can just kiss me. Whatever. I mean, maybe not in front of everyone all the time, cause the last thing I need is all those guys thinkin’ something’s going on, but like.” Hamzah gestures a bit more, then lets his arms fall to his sides. “You get it.”

He’s a coward, truly, because Hamzah knows he should just say I want to kiss you or will you kiss me please? He knows he should just be honest about what he wants, but he can’t. It’s easier to pretend he’s doing this for your sake, like he’s doing you some big favor, when the opposite is true.

“Okay.”

Hamzah pauses. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Good to know,” you say with a shrug, rubbing your arms. It’s the middle of winter, in Canada, and it’s fucking freezing. He should’ve offered you his jacket when you first came out after him. God, he’s such a fucking idiot.

He blinks, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Oh. You don’t…?”

You raise one eyebrow, unfairly attractive. “What?”

“... Nothing.” Hamzah shakes his head, unwilling to articulate his dissatisfaction with this. “I’m gonna go.” He attempts to shuffle away, but you move closer instead, freezing him in his tracks.

“Oh, did you want to kiss now?” You press one hand to your chest in fake surprise, pretending you haven't known exactly what Hamzah’s wanted from the beginning of the conversation, a smile edging at your lips despite your clear attempt to hide it.

“Well not anymore, you asshole,” he huffs, turning his head away so you can’t see the flush of his cheeks and also because looking at your smirk directly is like looking at the fucking sun. “Forget it.”

“Hamzaaah,” you sing-song sweetly, opening your arms, giving him plenty of time to step away if she wanted to. “C’mere.”

Hamzah isn't even sure why he bothers pretending to be grumpy, because the moment you get closer, he drops his crossed arms, unable to pretend he’s not desperate and eager for your hold.

“Whatever,” he mutters, but the second half of the word is lost.

The catharsis is so sweet. Sure, it’s the chemicals in his brain, the oxytocin and hormones that are released during physical touch, or whatever, but it’s also the way you hold him, the grounding, tender touch.

He hears the breathy little moan you let out, like you’ve been waiting for this, like you’ve been holding your breath, like you didn't think you’d ever get to kiss Hamzah again. And fuck , the sound makes sparks shoot all through him, gives him the courage to shift his head slightly and press his lips, fleetingly, to your bare throat and hear you gasp, your grip on Hamzah tightening.

The both of you sway slightly, you rocking them both like a stilted waltz, a dance for just the two of you. Hamzah takes a moment to breathe, to let his frantic heart rate slow, relishing the way your fingers are drawing errant shapes on his back.

“Do you want to get out of here? We can just drive around or something.”

“Depends…” you drawl as you let your hands drop to his waist, tucking your fingers through the belt loops of Hamzah’s trousers so your bodies are still connected. “Can I smoke in your car?”

Hamzah hums, tapping his chin in fake consideration. “For you? I’ll allow it this once.”

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #slushy noobz #hamzah the fantastic #hamzah fic

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screwitbaby · 3 months ago

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naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

day 2/7

[part 3]

summary: this is part two of my short story about the boys’ trip to curaçao (read the other one first, or don’t). hamzah’s getting you all riled up and mandy and martin begin to notice his unusual behavior with you.

contains: SFW content

wc: 2k-ish

You wake up to an empty bed and some part of you feels disheartened at the sight. The only evidence of Hamzah ever being there is the indent in the pillow and the shorts he borrowed folded neatly atop the mattress. You sit up to stretch, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 10:02 and you decide to get dressed.

When you grab your phone on the way out, you see a text message light up your screen.

morning :)

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, but before you can type out your reply, a pair of large hands grab your shoulders and you nearly launch into the ceiling.

"Fuck—Hamzah!"

He cackles at your scream. You slap his arm, immediately shutting him up as he rubs the spot to soothe it.

"Dumbass," you grumble.

"Good morning to you, too." The grin on his face doesn't fade for a second.

"Whatever.” You shut the front door and walk down the hallway alongside him. “When did you wake up?”

"'Round 9,” he yawns out. "Martin called me back and we got the room situation sorted."

He pulls his new key card out of his wallet and holds it between his fingers to show you. “Nice.”

Upon finding the hotel pool already chock-full of people, the two of you decide to meet Mandy and Martin at a restaurant they told Hamzah they'd be at. The GPS on your phone’s map gives you a hard time and you nearly walk into oncoming traffic with your nose deep in the screen. Hamzah reaches out to grab your forearm and pulls you back right as a taxi flies by.

"That was way too close," he says. Both of you breathe heavily at the realization that it could've ended way worse. "I think I know where it’s at anyway, just follow me."

"Sorry," you apologize, blushing. He smiles and shakes his head to dismiss your embarrassment. His hand stays on the middle of your back as he leads the rest of the way. The sparks you feel from his touch can hardly be ignored.

You get seated in a booth with the couple, who have already ordered some appetizers in anticipation of your arrival. The four of you dig into some sort of steamed veggie dish and catch up.

"Martin kept me up all night," Mandy says.

"Yeah, I got stamina." Martin nonchalantly shrugs.

"No, you literally passed out the moment you went to bed." She rolls her eyes. "I had to check if he was breathing, like, 5 times."

"She got yo lying ass, boy," Hamzah says, laughing with you. "I think I was snoring all night. Those drinks had me messed up."

"You weren't," you assure him.

"How do you know that?" Martin diverts the attention to you.

"Because someone was dead asleep and couldn't help his best friend get back into his hotel room," Hamzah replies pointedly. Martin sinks into his seat and takes a bite of food while pouting.

"So, you guys were stuck in the same bed?" Mandy asks, genuinely interested. "How'd that go?"

"It was—"

"We were—"

You look at each other and you nod your head, gesturing for him to talk first. He nods back and places his hand on your knee under the table before continuing. Your heart leaps to your throat.

"We were watching some show in Dutch that we couldn't understand until we knocked out."

"That's it?" This earns Martin a light smack on the arm from Mandy and a fiery glare from you.

"Was it the one with the bald dad and the ginger kids?"

"Yeah, how'd you—?"

"I watched it with Martin's mom the day before we came. It’s pretty popular here."

Hamzah's hand is still on your knee, occasionally running his thumb over your skin like it's the most natural thing in the world. You try to be attentive and contribute to the conversation, but it's a struggle when your mind is constantly wandering. When the waiter comes to take your orders, you choose something random off the menu because you were too lost in thought. You’re starting to think you need to be spayed because of how much this affects you.

"I can't believe we have to leave in a week," Hamzah says. You look up from the table.

"Don't remind me," you groan.

"I miss Rudy," Mandy admits with a sigh, "and Fish and Carl, of course."

"Every parent has their favorites.” Martin shrugs.

Your food arrives after some more chatter. Hamzah's hand leaves the spot on your thigh he’d slowly worked up to and you feel like you can breathe again. This trip has made you guys a lot closer than you ever anticipated, but it makes you wonder how things will be once you get back home.

“Wanna bite?” Hamzah whispers to only you. “It’s pretty good.”

“Lemme try.” You pluck a piece of omelette from his plate and bite into it. “Yum. Try mine.”

He shovels a scoop of your yogurt bowl into his mouth and hums. “Let’s split?”

“Yes, please.”

The meal ends with Martin paying for Mandy and Hamzah paying for you, in a surprise turn of events. You try to fight him back on it, but once he swipes his card without a word you know it's settled.

"All that YouTube money has gone to your head," you joke.

"I got fat stacks."

"Ew." You and Mandy cringe.

The couple walks ahead of you up the street and the two of you walk side by side.

"Was that alright?" Hamzah asks once the others are out of earshot.

"What do you mean?"

"Y'know, me paying." He nudges your shoulder. "It felt like the right thing to do."

"It did?" you ask, a smile growing on your face. "I didn't mind it."

"Good, good..." He walks with his hands in his pockets, kicking a rock every couple of steps.

"I actually thought it was cute."

He exhales through his nose, smiling at the ground. "Was it?"

"Yeah." You nod. "Thanks, Hamzah."

"No biggie."

You scrunch up your face and he laughs once he sees your expression. His laughter could cure even the most fatal illnesses, you're convinced. You take steps in unison for a bit—right, left, right, left—until he clears his throat to speak again.

"And, um," he starts, licking his lips. "When I put my hand on your leg..."

"Mhm?" You enjoy seeing the way his face contorts as he tries to find his words.

"Was that... alright, too?"

"I didn't mind it," you repeat.

He shakes his head and this time it's your turn to laugh. The tips of his ears turn red under his hat, making your heart pound at the sight. He fixes the hat tighter on his head and you fight the urge to tuck one of his stray curls behind his ear. Instead, you find that your feet lead you closer to his side, your fingertips brushing past his ever so slightly.

The couple eventually stops at a building and the two of you rush to catch up.

"We made it, kids," Martin says with a smile once you reach them.

"An art museum?" Hamzah questions as he reads the sign at the door. "Are we museum people?"

"We are now," Martin says, turning to walk inside.

"He's been talking about this since we landed," Mandy explains. "C'mon, guys."

Your group enters the museum and you look around at the historic paintings and sculptures from various Curaçaoan artists. Any and all doubt is washed from your mind as you make your way through the space, carefully observing art you haven't had the pleasure of seeing before. Hamzah follows close by, never straying too far as to not miss the way you react to each piece with 'oo's and 'ah's.

"Here's what we came for!" Martin points at a painting in the corner.

You walk closer and catch sight of a beautiful beach landscape. There's bright green shrubbery in the forefront, leading up to a peachy-toned sunset with tropical birds flying in the background. Mandy excuses herself to check out the gift shop and Martin huddles the three of you together.

"One day, I'm gonna propose to her here," he whispers. His finger traces the plaque below the canvas. You'd been to this beach the day you touched ground in Curaçao. It was the first thing you guys did, even before checking in at the hotel.

"Martin," you gasp, eyes wide. He shushes you and you lower your voice. "That's so sweet, oh my god."

"She walked right by it," he beams. "She has no clue."

"That's great, man." Hamzah clasps his hand on Martin's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "She'll love it, for sure."

"I can't believe I'm gonna be a maid of honor," you squeal as quietly as you can. Martin shushes you again but you can barely contain your excitement, turning to Hamzah to find his eyes already on you.

"What makes you so sure it'll be you?" he teases.

"It will be." You raise your eyebrows, challenging him to say otherwise.

"As long as I can be best man."

You take a couple pictures of Martin standing next to the painting with his thumbs up, narrowly avoiding Hamzah's photobombing attempts. When you finally walk away, Martin motions for you both to zip your lips. You mime crossing your heart and make your way to the gift shop.

There's shelves of souvenirs with prints of the art pieces from the museum, as well as some nearby tourist attractions that you recognize from visiting recently. You get to the jewelry section and run your fingers across the array of bangles and necklaces, hearing how they jingle as they move. Once you get to the end of the table, you notice a reddish-brown beaded bracelet.

"'Handmade,'" you mumble, reading the tag.

Hamzah stops close by your turned back and sees what's caught your attention from over your shoulder. "What's that?"

"Isn't it pretty?" You slip the bracelet onto your wrist and hold it up to show him. He grabs another one, doing the same.

Mandy suddenly calls for you and you walk over to her.

"I want this book so bad." She holds up a leather bound book with golden letters on the front, flipping through the pages to reveal photographs of nearby landmarks. "Wouldn't it look cute on our coffee table?"

“We have so much stuff from this trip already—“ Martin starts, but upon seeing Mandy’s glare, agrees.

You conclude that married life would suit them very well.

Your group loiters around the museum until you've seen everything it has to offer, snapping a few pics of your favorites along the way. Hamzah volunteers to take a few aesthetic photos of you, but when you get your phone back, your camera roll is full of him making funny faces. You know you’ll get him back for it eventually.

The four of you make it halfway back to the hotel when you look down and realize the bracelet is still on your wrist. You halt in the middle of the sidewalk and curse at the wind.

"Guys," you call out, making them stop as well. "I'll meet you there, I forgot to put this bracelet back."

"You stole?" Martin exaggerates. "Dang it, now we're all accomplices!"

"Say it louder, why don't you?" You roll your eyes, turning on your heels to walk back up the street.

"YOU STO—"

Hamzah slaps his palm across his friend's mouth, "I got it, don't worry."

"What?" You turn back.

He holds his free hand up and shakes the bracelet on his wrist. "I paid already. You don't have to go back."

You part your lips, but no words come out.

Mandy and Martin share a glance with each other, him mumbling something unintelligible. Hamzah drops his hands and fidgets with his hat.

"I feel bad," you finally say, your cheeks warming up uncontrollably. "You're too nice."

"I wish I had a sugar daddy," Martin complains. You collectively ignore him.

"Thank you, Hamzah," you say with a smile. "I appreciate it."

"You liked the bracelet, so..." He shrugs it off.

The walk back to the hotel commences and you feel your pulse thumping with each step. Once again, the couple get ahead of you two, but that’s fine by you. Mandy turns a few times to make eye contact with you and raise her eyebrows ridiculously. You just shake your head and try not to grin too hard.

The weather is muggy and the sun is beaming on your heads, but Hamzah’s warm hand finds yours despite it all. Your bracelets graze each other and you wordlessly make a pact to not let go.

a/n: u get what u want in the next part ya filthy animals!!! also sorry i took so long, i’m still not 100% happy w how this turned out but i wanted to pump something out before u guys start chasing me w wooden stakes and pitchforks :-)

#hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #slushy virus #thatmartinkid #martin and hamzah #hamzah x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Frisky Friday thot?

You've caught the attention of not one gorgeous blonde, but two at one of Stark's parties. Each charming in their own way, they make room for you to sit between them and offer you a drink. One drink won't hurt.

Right?

Just a Drop

“You are such a buzzkill," Mandy snaps as she untangles the thin strap of her bag. "I'm tryna do something here and you keep whining that you're all alone--"

You reel at your friend's harshness. She asked you to come. She even said she needed the moral support. After all, how could she go alone to one of Stark's infamous parties. She's so nervous, don't you know?

"Sorry, but I don't know anyone but you--"

"It's a party. Get out there," she retorts and pulls out her mirror compact. She checks her lips and flicks her lashes. "Now, if I keep Tony waiting, he's going to find someone else. So go. Plenty of people to mingle with."

You sniff back your reticence and the sting of her tone. You nod and she spins on her heel and stomps back through the door. You contemplate leaving. Would she notice? Well, if she realises you ditched her, you would have zero friend in the city.

You look down at yourself. You even let her dress you. The sweater is blush pink with sequins on it, but she was frustrated that it was so baggy. She paired it with a skirt even though it’s cold. She couldn’t lend you any of her clothes because they wouldn’t fit. The one thing she did give you from your wardrobe were the shoes. Heeled booties that make you teeter.

You make yourself go back into the room. The voices hit you like a sonic wave. Everyone is so cheery and excited to see each other. It’s crowded and chaotic and you have no place there. It’s no different than you’ve felt your whole time in the city. Lost and alone.

You set to wandering around. You’ll pace away the time until Mandy releases you from this purgatory. You shrink away from the woman you know to be Natasha Romanov. You tried to say hi but she looked at you as if she would swat you away like a gnat. Then there’s the men she’s with; they’re hulking, mean looking figures.

You fold your arms and try to will yourself into invisibility. Certainly, given a number of your company, that can’t be entirely impossible. You pass behind the couch and something knocks against your elbow as you walk along the leather.

You recoil and turn to rub your elbow as you watch the man touch his blond hair. Oh no. As he leaned back, you must have bopped him. You cradle your arm and cringe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you say as his blue eyes find you. It’s Thor. The god of thunder. He was one that Mandy was sure to point out; a backup plan, she proclaimed. “I didn’t see you.’

“Not to worry, lady. My own fault. I was being rowdy and did not think before I threw myself back,” he drops his hands. “I should be honoured to be battered by a woman so enchanting.”

You blink. You’re not sure if he’s mocking you. Sometimes Mandy’s compliments turn out not to be. The man beside him glances back too. Oh, Steve Rogers.

“Hey, you seem lonely,” he says, “who’d you come with?”

“Oh, uh,” you look around. You don’t see Mandy. “A friend.”

“A friend?” He echoes.

“Yeah, but I don’t know where they went...” you trail off.

“How improper of us, Rogers,” Thor reaches over to muss Steve’s hair before he stands. He turns and faces you over the couch, “my lady, I present to you Steve Rogers of Brookland.”

“Brooklyn--” Steve corrects.

“And it is I, Prince Thor of Asgard,” he touches his own chest as he booms, “would you do us the honour of joining us for a drink?”

“Oh, a drink?” You squeak in surprise. “I hate to impose--”

“Impose? We could use the company,” he assures you and waves you around. “Rogers, make room, you lump.”

“Lump?” Steve mutters, though there’s a lilt of humour in his voice.

You hesitate, swaying, then come around the long leather sofa. You don’t want to be rude. Especially to them. And it’s exactly what Mandy told you to do; mingle.

Steve stands as you approach and gestures you down to the cushion between them. Thor remains on his feet as the other man sits with you. You peek over at the captain then up at the prince.

“I’ll fetch us a round,” Thor declares. “I shall be fleet.”

He turns and struts off. You stare after him and twiddle your fingers nervously. Your eyes skitter around. What do you say?

“Not a big fan myself but Tony loves these things,” Steve says.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve never... I don’t go to many parties.”

“Well, you’re not missing out on much. I always end up dragging out the punchiest moron in the room. Unfortunately, that’s often my buddy.” He points and you follow it to the dark-haired man with Natasha; Bucky Barnes.

“Oh, right,” you murmur. “That’s... too bad.”

“He doesn’t even have a good excuse. They don’t serve anything he can get drunk on,” he snorts.

Thor returns, giving you a start. He sets down three glasses on the low glass table across from you. “My lady,” he says and turns to sit, his weight shifting the couch. “The bar man says it is something fizzy. I can’t be certain,” he explains. “Rogers,” he turns to look at his cohort, “I’ve brought some of my home brew...”

“Of course you did,” Steve scoffs.

Thor reaches under his jacket and slips out a small flask. It’s gold and round, with elaborate patterning in it. He twists the cap and you feel a tug on your sweater.

“I like this, it’s pretty,” Steve says.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“Yes, very becoming,” Thor adds as he pours into one glass, “and for you, Rogers.” He trickles more into another.

You turn and look at the clear, bubbly drinks. Thor tucks away the flask and grabs two. He hands one to you. Rogers reaches for the third.

“Thank you,” you accept the cold glass.

“Skol,” Thor raises his glass.

“Cheers,” Steve mirrors him.

You look between them, feeling smaller as you feel their body heat brewing. You just lift your glass higher to let them clink it. You follow their lead, drinking when they do, though you nearly cough it back up.

“Oh, bubbly,” you cover your mouth. Strong, you think. You don’t have the highest tolerance.

“How long have you been in New York?” Steve asks, catching you off guard.

“Oh, just about...” you tally in your head, “one year now.”

“Wow, newbie,” he comments. You take another drink, just for something to do.

“As am I,” Thor adds. “I do miss home but I like your planet too.”

You nod and sip again.

“Have you been to this place, Central Park?” Thor asks. “I was lost for a whole day.”

“Imagine that, a whole god, lost,” Steve laughs.

“Eh, I was off duty,” Thor argues.

They banter back and forth and you’re all too happy to fade into the leather. You slurp tentatively. Mandy is still elusive. You suppose she managed to snare her game but what about you?

As your eyes flit around the room, it seems to rock. You lurch forward in a sudden bout of dizziness and lean forward to put the glass down. You miss the table but the glass is caught from underneath. Thor takes it and puts it on the table. The ice hits the glass. You drank it all without realising.

“Thirsty,” he remarks as you slouch forward. He pushes you back and Steve help eases you against the cushion, “are you feeling it?”

“How much did you put in hers?” Steve hisses.

“Just a drop,” Thor assures, “never worry, Rogers, I know as I am doing.” He pets your forehead as your head falls back under its own weight. You blink at the ceiling as your body slackens. “My lady, never fret. We are heroes, we will take good care of you.”

#thor #steve rogers #dark thor #dark!thor #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america

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onlinesuzie · 5 months ago

Text

☆ hooking up with hamzah ☆

words: 3.1k

genre: heavy smut, dom hamzah

summary: You are invited to a small party at Mandy's apartment but when you are introduced to Hamzah, you realise he's the boy you had the most insane hook up with and now obviously you can't resist the chance of hooking up again.

notes: i gotta be real, i gotta ring the police after this cause damn this is most insane thing i've ever written.

♡

You were sitting in your living room, half-watching TV when your phone buzzed with a message. It was from Mandy, one of your close friends.

"hey my love! i’m having this little party thing at my place this saturday, please please please can you come! martin’s bringing a friend… ;)"

You smiled at the message, feeling extremely excited. You hadn’t seen Mandy and her boyfriend, Martin, in a while, and the idea of a relaxed evening with friends sounded perfect. You quickly typed back your reply.

"i’m free!! i can’t wait to see you"

When Saturday arrived, you spent a little extra time getting ready, choosing an outfit that made you feel extra good. As you arrived at Mandy’s apartment, the familiar hum of music and chatter greeted you from inside. You knocked, and a moment later, Mandy opened the door with a wide grin.

"You made it!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. The apartment was slightly hot from the people moving around and laughing loudly, it was filled with chatter and the slight smell of alcohol.

Martin was in the kitchen, mixing drinks. When he saw you, he waved. "Hey! come here and get a drink!" he said, motioning for you to come over. You exchanged a few waves and hugs of the people you knew, catching up on life since the last time you’d all hung out.

Mandy appeared beside you, practically bouncing around, probably already tipsy. "Oh, yes! I need to introduce you to Martin's friend!" she said, her eyes disappearing with how smiley she was. Without waiting for your response, she started grabbed your hand, leading you through the room.

As you followed her, you wondered who this friend could be. Mandy stopped near the living room, turning to you with a smile. "This is Hamzah," she said, gesturing to a man standing nearby. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized him immediately. It was Hamzah—the guy you had hooked up with a few weeks ago.

His eyes widened slightly as he recognized you, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange between the two of you. He gulped slightly but finally breaking the silence with a small, amused smile.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, with just a hint of teasing. "Nice to see you.. again." the last word quiet enough for only the both of you to hear.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you managed a smile. "Yeah, you too."

Mandy, oblivious to the history between you two, grinned. "I’ll leave you to get to know each other!" she said before disappearing back into the crowd.

Once she was gone, you and Hamzah exchanged an awkward laugh. "This is... unexpected," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You nodded, feeling the same awkwardness. "Yeah, definitely unexpected."

Despite the initial feeling, the conversation quickly found its rhythm. You and Hamzah started talking, easing into a comfortable banter. The more you talked, the more you remembered why you’d been drawn to him that night a few weeks ago. There was a spark between you, a feeling that was hard to ignore.

As the night went on, that spark began to intensify. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking, the way his voice dropped a little lower when he spoke just to you. You especially noticed the way he slowly swiped his tongue along his bottom lip when he looked you up and down. It was like there was a tension building pull between the two of you, something that had been there all night, just waiting to be released.

At some point, you found yourself standing close to him near the hallway, the rest of the party fading into the background. The air between you was tense, and you could tell by the way he was looking at you that he felt it too.

"Do you want to... go somewhere more private?" he asked, leaning in close to whisper in your ear.

Your heart raced at his suggestion, but you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. Without another word, you led him down the hall, toward the bathroom at the end. Once inside, you closed the door behind you, the small space suddenly feeling even smaller.

The moment the door clicked shut, the tension between you snapped. Hamzah stepped forward, his eyelids heavy and warmth grew within you, his hand brushing against your cheek as he leaned in. His lips found yours in a rough and sloppy kiss, the familiarity of it sending a rush of adrenaline through you.

As kiss got deeper, it was becoming more intense as the memories of that night came flooding back. His hands snaking their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded by placing your hands on his chest , your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment, the rest of the party forgotten. The thrill of being so close to him again, in this unexpected situation, was intoxicating.

Eventually, the sound of laughter from the party brought you back to reality. You pulled back slightly, both of you breathing heavily.

Hamzah smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek. "That was... so hot," he said.

You laughed softly, feeling a mix of excitement and satisfaction. "Yeah, but I need more of you Hamzah."

He chuckled, pressing a quick, playful kiss to your lips before stepping back.

You and Hamzah linger in the bathroom for a moment longer, catching your breath, exchanging a few soft laughs as the reality of what just happened sinks in. There’s a shared look between you. The party outside feels like a distant hum, irrelevant to the little world you’ve just created together.

Finally, you straighten your clothes, both of you taking a moment to collect yourselves. Hamzah glances at you, his smile soft and a little teasing. “Ready to head back out?” he asks, his voice low.

You nod, still feeling the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Opening the bathroom door, you slip back into the hallway. The noise of the party floods your senses once again, but it’s as if there’s an invisible bubble around the two of you—nothing else seems to matter. You share a quick, private smile with Hamzah before heading back into the main room.

The two of you rejoin the party, and while you try to blend back in, you can’t help but notice the lingering gazes between you. There’s a silent communication in every glance, every touch. It’s not long before Hamzah leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Want to get out of here?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself nodding without hesitation. The idea of continuing, of seeing where it could go, is too tempting to resist. Together, you make your way to the door, weaving through the crowd.

As you approach Mandy and Martin, who are chatting with a couple of other guests, you gently tap Mandy on the shoulder. She turns around, her face lighting up with a smile when she sees you. “You’re heading out?” she asks, her eyes flickering between you and Hamzah.

“Yeah, I think we’re going to call it a night,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual. But there’s no hiding the way Hamzah’s hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he steps up beside you.

Mandy’s smile widens, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Well, it was great seeing you both! Don’t be weird, okay?” She pulls you into a quick hug, and then one for Hamzah, who exchanges a nod with Martin.

Martin gives you a thumbs-up and a wink as he notices your linked hands. “Take care, guys,” he says, clearly amused but in a friendly, supportive way.

You and Hamzah say your final goodbyes before slipping out of the apartment together. The night air is cool and refreshing after the warmth of the party. Hamzah leads you to his car parked a little way down the street, his hand still firmly in yours.

As you reach his car, he gets into the driver’s seat, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The quiet of the car is almost deafening, filled only with the sound of your breathing and the faint hum of the engine when Hamzah starts it. His hand rests on the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift, but you can feel his eyes on you, stealing glances as if he’s trying to gauge your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, your gaze meeting his in the dim light of the car’s interior. The tension is strong now, thickening the air between you. The memory of his touch in the bathroom, the way he made you feel weeks prior, is all too fresh. And by the way his eyes darken when they lock with yours, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough, almost hesitant. It’s a simple question, but the weight behind it is heavy.

“I’m more than okay,” you reply, your voice soft but steady. There’s a slight quiver of excitement in your tone, something he doesn’t miss.

A small smile tugs at his lips, and his hand finally leaves the gearshift, sliding over to rest on your thigh. The touch is gentle at first, but you can feel the warmth of his palm through your clothes, the heat spreading like a slow burn. He squeezes lightly, his fingers flexing against your skin, and it takes everything in you not to shiver under his touch.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. There’s something deeper in his gaze now, not just desire but a hint of vulnerability, as if he needs reassurance that this isn’t just a fleeting moment.

You nod, feeling a surge of affection for him. “I’m sure, Hamzah.”

That’s all it takes for the tension to snap. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that starts slow, as if he’s savoring the moment. But it quickly deepens, his hand tightening on your thigh as he pulls you closer, the kiss becoming more intense.

You can feel the heat building between you, the way his touch becomes more needy, the way his breathing quickens. Your hands find their way to his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you lose track of time, of everything except the feel of him against you.

Finally, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, his voice rough with need.

You nod again, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling. He shifts the car into gear, his hand returning to your thigh as he drives, this time with more urgency, as if he can’t get you to his place fast enough.

His thumb strokes your skin absently, and every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you. It’s almost unbearable, this tension that’s coiled tight between you, ready to snap the moment you’re alone again. The city lights blur past as you drive, but you barely notice, too focused on the way his hand inches higher on your leg, teasing, testing you.

When you finally pull into his driveway, the tension reaches its peak. Hamzah cuts the engine and turns to you, his eyes blazing with desire and something deeper, something that makes your heart race even faster.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice a low, throaty whisper.

Instead of answering, you lean in and kiss him again, your hand sliding up the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It’s all the answer he needs. The kiss is hungry, desperate, as if you’ve both been holding back for too long. His hand on your thigh tightens, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body radiating through the small space between you.

Breaking the kiss, Hamzah quickly gets out of the car, and you follow suit, both of you stumbling out. He takes your hand again, leading you toward the front door. The night is cool around you, but the heat between you both is undeniable, impossible to ignore.

The moment the door closes behind you, you know there’s no going back. The tension that’s been building all night finally has its outlet, and neither of you is going to hold back.

As you walked towards his place, you subtly moved closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his. You could feel the heat between you, and you knew tonight was going to be intense. Hamzah couldn't take his eyes off you, his gaze burning with desire as he took in your body.

You smiled to yourself, knowing the effect you had on him. Reaching his door, he fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking slightly as he struggled to focus. You placed your hand on his, a simple touch that sent a spark through him, as he guided the key into the lock.

The door swung open, and he stepped aside to let you enter first. You took a moment to glance back at him before stepping into the hallway. Hamzah followed close behind, his breath soft on the back of your neck, making your skin tingle.

You didn't turn on the main lights, opting for the softer glow of lamps instead. You turned to face him, your bodies now just inches apart.

Hamzah's eyes devoured you, taking in your every curve and the way your clothes hugged your body. You could see the desire and hunger in his eyes, which only further turned you on. Leaning forward, you pressed your body against his, feeling the hard planes of his chest and the stiffness of his cock through his pants.

His hands found your hips, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours in a passionate kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your tongue dueling with his as your hands roamed over his broad shoulders and down his back. You could feel his cock twitch against your stomach, and you knew he was just as desperate for release as you were.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your lips down his jaw and neck, nipping and sucking at his sensitive skin. He tilted his head back, a soft groan escaping his lips as you marked him with your mouth.

"I want you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I need to feel you, all of you."

You smiled at his desperation. This wasn't the first time you had hooked up, but it was clear that Hamzah was still just as obsessed with your body as he had been the first time. And you loved having this effect on him.

Guiding him towards the bedroom, you pushed him gently onto the edge of the bed. He sat there, watching you with dark, wanting eyes as you slowly began to undress. You removed your shirt, teasing him by covering your breasts with your arms, before finally revealing them.

His breath hitched as your breasts were exposed, his eyes glued to you as you slowly unbuttoned your jeans. Sliding them down your legs, you stepped out of them, now wearing nothing but your underwear. Hamzah's cock twitched in his pants, straining against the fabric as he got a full view of your body.

Kneeling before him, you placed soft kisses up his thighs, your hands roaming over his hard chest as you undid his belt. With slow, deliberate movements, you unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper, reaching inside to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock.

He hissed at the feeling of your soft hand on his hard length, his hips bucking slightly as you began to stroke him. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock before taking him into your warm, wet mouth. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair as you sucked him deeply, your tongue swirling and teasing.

"Fuck, that feels so good," he murmured, his hips thrusting gently as you took your time, exploring every inch of him with your mouth. You moaned softly, the vibrations sending shivers through him.

Pulling off his cock, you stood up and finished undressing, revealing your naked body. Hamzah's eyes feasted on your every curve, his mouth hanging open slightly as he took in your perfection.

"You look even hotter like this Hamzah," you whispered, pushing him back onto the bed and climbing on top of him. You straddled his waist, your pussy hovering just above his cock as you leaned down to kiss him deeply.

He kissed you back hungrily, his hands grasping your ass as he pulled you against him. You aligned yourself with his cock, feeling the head press against you. Slowly, you sank down, sitting down on his length as you threw your head back in pleasure.

Hamzah groaned, his eyes rolling back as he filled you completely. You rode him slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him stretching you wide.

"Your body is so fucking perfect," he muttered, his eyes taking in the sight of your naked skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. "I could worship this body forever."

His words sent a rush of heat between your legs, and you increased your pace, riding him harder as you clenched around his cock. He thrust up to meet your movements, his hips slamming into yours as he filled you completely.

The bed creaked with the force of both of you, your moans and groans filling the room as you drove each other wild. Hamzah's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pounded into you.

"Cum for me," he growled, his voice husky and full of need. "Let me feel you cum around my cock."

His dirty words sent you over the edge, and you cried out as your orgasm washed over you. You clenched around his cock, enjoying the wave after wave of pleasure crashing through your body.

Feeling you tighten around him, Hamzah let out a moan, his cock twitching as he filled you with him. You collapsed against him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you felt his warm release deep inside you.

For several moments, you lay there, your bodies entangled and your hearts pounding. Eventually, you rolled off him, a lazy smile on your face as you snuggled into his side.

"That was incredible," he whispered, his voice full of satisfaction as he played with your hair. "I can't get enough of you."

You smiled, knowing that this wouldn't be the last time you'd hook up. Hamzah was obsessed, and you were more than happy to give him more.

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #slushy virus #hamzah imagines #domhamzah #hamzahsmut #hamzah fic

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storm-angel989 · 6 months ago

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hey could you do a Valentino x Daughter Reader where the Vees/Angel finds out that Reader has been starving herself and taking pills that make her lose weight?

Hi there,

So I did write one of these already (check out my master list!) but I wrote another version because you asked to include Angel Dust. Diet pills are another thing I have personal experience with, and I promise you they're not worth it. As hard as it is somedays, our bodies are worthy of love and respect always <3

<3 Mandy

Privacy had never really been a big deal to me.

Growing up the tech overlord’s niece, I was acutely aware that anything and everything I brought, sent, typed, created, handed in was subject to scrutiny by my Uncle Vox. Not that he went out of his way to divulge into my personal life, but there had definitely been a few times I had been reminded of his power to keep tabs on me.

It wasn’t until I started dieting to get more into shape for the upcoming school year that Vox’s constant monitoring became an issue.

It started with the ballerina tea in September. Something my friends at school swore up and down would help me trim down before the holiday season. For the first time in my life, I heard whispers- too big, too small. Just right. Fashion presented in a way even my Aunt Velvette hadn’t shown me. As we thumbed through magazines, shifted through racks of clothes at the local mall, I slowly started to see my friend’s point, and everything my body wasn’t.

Thoughtlessly, I clicked on the order now button and in minutes, my phone rang.

“Hey, kid. I canceled your order. You can’t drink that stuff, it will seriously mess up your gut,” my Uncle Vox’s voice came through on the line.

I felt shame spread across my face. Not a single parental figure in my life had ever scolded me for what I wanted to put in my body. Hell, my Dad even let me have ice cream for breakfast one morning when my Mom was out of town. Why was my Uncle Vox even remotely paying attention to what I wanted to drink? Embarrassment. Did he not know just how flawed I was?

Somewhere inside, a little voice told me to keep quiet.

“Reader? Did you hear me?” Vox’s voice repeated.

“Ye-yeah, Uncle Vox, sorry,” I squeaked out. “I just…my friends at school they…”

“If your friends at school all jumped off a cliff, would you? I can make a doctor's appointment if you’d like and she can explain exactly what…”

“No, no, Uncle Vox. I’m good,” I replied quickly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, kiddo.”

I hung up the phone in dismay as cracks in my fantasies began to form. How exactly was I supposed to be thinner if I was hitting a wall trying to use the resources available to me? How was I supposed to look like the models on the cover of Aunt Velvette’s magazines if I kept doing what I was doing? I needed help, but from where?

My answer lay in the network of friends I had available to me. A quiet whisper- folded notes with paper currency passed in study hall returned with white powder filled capsules.

Drink a glass of water and take one pill three times a day, the note back read.

Instructions I could follow easily, and all it took was downing that first pill to get me absolutely hooked. I couldn’t pinpoint when I slowly started to cut back on what I ate, or when the little voice inside my head started to tell me I didn’t deserve food. That the number on the scale was the only thing that mattered and the faster the number went down, the happier the voice inside my head became. Beauty, numbers, purity took over my thoughts.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I decided that voice had a name. Ana. And she was my only friend in the entire world.

Two months passed before my world came crashing down.

“Hey babe, I know you’re on your way out the door, but meet me in my studio afterschool today, hm?” My fathers voice carried across the kitchen.

I froze. On my normal day to day, I wasn’t allowed anywhere near my fathers business office- or studio, as he called it. I was well aware of what he was in the business of, but he did his best to keep me from it. Or at least, from the worst of it.

“Why?” I asked, my back turned to him.

“You have a half day. Your Aunt and Uncle both have meetings, so you’ll be doing your homework in my office tonight,” he replied. “And I received several forms in the mail from the school. You need a physical before winter season begins, so we might as well get that done. And then I’ll take you out to lunch. It’s been awhile since we’ve spent time together.”

The entire thing sounded like my current worst nightmare. I struggled to come up with the words to try to get out of it.

“But I was going to go to…I have plans, I…”

“Bebita, whatever plans you have, consider them canceled. In my studio, by twelve. The limo will pick you up. That’s all.” Valentino finished.

An overwhelming sense of dread washed over me. Ana’s voice grew louder, nonsense that I couldn’t discern. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see my way out of this. Anxiety flooded through me and I worried my way through the entire morning. In truth, I had planned on making up the extra steps I was losing by leaving early at the school gym before I went home.

Just take an extra dose, Ana whispered. And double each dose, even. Make up for those extra steps missed, and the extra calories I was sure I would end up taking in. A sense of relief washed over me. Of course. Ana always knew what to do.

I walked into my father’s studio, backpack slung over his shoulder. Noticeably empty was my father’s directors chair. On stage, Angel sat on the bed, wrapped in his pink red trimmed robe. I brightened up instantly. Angel was the only employee of my father’s I knew, the only one I had any sort of relationship with.

“Hey sweetheart,” Angel said cheerfully. He stood up and walked over to me. “Yer Daddy said you were coming in, how’s school?”

I shrugged. “Fine. Where is Dad?” I glanced at the clock. Twelve thirty. I needed to duck out and take that fourth dose now if I wanted it to be effective. “I have a ton of homework and I want to get started.”

“In a meetin’, but you can use my dressing room,” he replied as he sashayed across the floor.

I followed him and he pushed open the door, ushering me inside.

“Trust me, your gonna wanna hang tight, Val- er, your Dad’s mood is gonna be good or bad dependin on how this meetin’ goes,” Angel told me.

I settled myself on the couch and dug around in my backpack. Behind me, Angel took a seat at his vanity and picked up a brush. I seized the opportunity to unscrew my water bottle and pull out the plastic bag of pills. I had just swallowed the two capsule when a hand plucked the bag out of mine.

Shit.

“Hey, kid. Whatcha got there?” Angel asked as he held the bag up to his face.

“Give those back, they’re mine!” I yelled as I jumped to my feet. “Angel, give them to me!”

Angel ignored me and instead took the bag over to his vanity. I watched in dismay as he cracked open one of the clear capsules and inspected the contents.

“How many of these did you take?” He asked.

Silence for a heartbeat.

��Does your Dad know you’re taking these?” Was his next question.

“No, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him,” I growled. “Angel, give them back!”

He crossed his arms, plastic bag in hand. “Only if you tell me how many you’ve taken today,” he replied.

“Four this morning. Four at ten. And I just took four. And I need to take another two tonight,” I replied sharply. “Now give them back.”

Surprise shot across his face. “You took twelve of them? Are you fuckin stupid?” He turned back to his desk and started to rummage through it. “Fucking stupid kids,” he muttered as he came up with a bright orange bottle. I watched as he poured the liquid into the cap. “Here, take this now or I’m goin right to Val,” he thrust the medication to me. “Now, or else. I mean it.”

“Angel! I…”

“I said, now or I go pull your Daddy from his meetin and trust me, he’s gonna be pissed,” Angel shot back.

I didn’t doubt any of that. Reluctantly, I took the cap and swallowed the contents. “There, now give me back my pills.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he replied. He reached out and grabbed my upper arm. “Come with me, otherwise you’re gonna puke all over my dressin room and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

“Angel!” I protested as he practically dragged me across the studio floor. “Angel where are we…”

He shoved me into the nurses office and yelled to the lady at the front desk to page Valentino. Without waiting, he opened the bathroom door and shoved me inside. My anger turned to pain as my stomach cramped and I felt his hands pull my hair back as I emptied my belly of its contents.

“That’a girl,” Angel muttered. “Yeah, get it all out.”

“Fuck you Angel, I’m fine,” I snarled.

“Yeah, cause I make you puke. If I hadn’t, you’d have been dead in about twenty more minutes,” he replied. “Yer Dad’s on the way.”

“Oh fuck you,” I snarled as the nurse came in. “I swear I…”

Whatever I was going to say stopped as a wave of dizziness hit me. I felt Angel help me kneel to the floor and laid me on my side. The feeling of hands on my chest, my fathers voice as my reality turned black.

When I came to, I was sitting upright in a hospital bed. Wires attached to my chest and a plethora of monitors surrounded me. A tickle in my throat and I tried to cough as I raised my hand to itch my face. My fingers hit tape and plastic and I couldn’t Groggily, I strained to hear the noise on the other side of the door.

“Val, I saw it in the mirror. She was sitting on the couch and she swallowed a few, but I got her to tell me how much she took. I had to make her puke or she woulda…” Angel’s desperate voice.

“Where the fuck did she find that shit?” My father’s voice growled. “How the fuck did my daughter get ahold of that…Angel, just…” His tone shifted to frustration. Silence, and a sigh. “You did the right thing. Probably saved her. Just go, consider this shoot canceled and take the night. Go to the hotel or whatever it is you do, I need to handle this…situation.”

“Just, will ya lemme know when she wakes up?” Angel’s voice pleaded. “Val, if what she took was what I thought, she coulda died.”

“I know. And I will.” My father’s voice was softer. “Go.”

Time passed and I felt myself slip in out of consciousness. I was vaguely aware of my father fussing, flashes of Angel, my Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette. But for the most part I stayed asleep. At some point, the tickle in my throat vanished, but the needle in my arm stayed. It could have been a week, or maybe a day when I could I finally held myself awake long enough to hear what was going on. A few blinks, and I could make out my father’s figure standing next to my Aunt and Uncle at the base of the bed.

“We’re lucky we caught it when we did, she’s lost some weight. Her bloodwork isn’t great, but it’s fixable. It’s more important now that she connects with a therapist and…” said an unfamiliar voice.

“Daddy?” Even to me, my voice sounded scratchy. “Daddy?”

Four heads turned to me. The Doctor walked over and began to check the monitors.

“Good to see you awake, baby girl,” my Uncle Vox said as he brushed away an invisible strand of hair. “How are you feeling?”

“What happened?” I asked as my father sat on the side of the bed. “Why am I in the hospital?”

“Maybe you want to fill us in,” Velvette suggested.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I would suggest waiting for the thera-”

“Leave us. This is a family matter for the time being,” my father commanded with the authority only an overlord of hell could have.

I watched as he instantly turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him. My father turned his attention back to me. I hung my head and after a few moments of quiet, Valentino’s voice filled the air.

“Let me break it down for you. Angel watched you- from the mirror- swallow two pills. You told him those were the twelfth ones you had taken that day. He, because he isn’t a dumbass and has probably taken them himself, recognizes them right away and forces ippapec down your throat. He gets you to the nurse and you vomit until you pass out. I show up, and we decide that your stomach needs to be pumped. Doc asks me how much you weigh and I realize that somehow, since September, you’ve lost about twenty seven pounds. Tell me, muñeca, how exactly does that happen?”

For the first time since this all began, Ana went silent. Without that voice to guide me, I swallowed back my nerves.

“I went on a diet. I took diet pills, Dad. That’s what Angel got all mad about.”

“And rightly so,” Velvette interrupted. “All diet pills are dangerous, but the ones you took? They’re ten times as strong. Combined with skipping meals, they’ll wreck your body.”

“And don’t try to tell us you wern’t,” Vox added. “I reviewed the footage. We saw it all, honey.”

I looked down at the blanket. “So what happens now? Am I grounded?”

Silence from the three of them. I felt my fathers hand on mine and his finger tilted my chin up.

“I don’t think you quiet get the point. You almost died, honey. I…”

I watched an expression I couldn’t quite read flit across his face. He took a deep breath before he continued.

“Here is the plan. Now that you’re awake, you’re going to talk to a doctor. As soon as you get the all clear, you can go home. We can figure out where to go from then, but for now…for now honey, I’m just glad you’re alive.”

I reached for him and my father folded me into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I wasn’t trying to die, I…”

“Don’t be sorry. We’ll figure it out. I promise. I love you, mi amore,” he replied softly. “We all love you. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

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alotofpockets · 1 year ago

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The regular | Part 1 | Alessia Russo

Pairing: Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: Your cafe gains a new regular after Alessia's move to Arsenal.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 2.1k

Part 1 | Part 2

Over the past few months you gained a new regular at your cafe. You loved seeing familiar faces and having small conversations with these people that showed your business love over and over again. You had recognized this new customer instantly as you are an avid watcher of women’s soccer, it was none other than Alessia Russo. When she first came into your shop, you greeted her with a smile, “Goodmorning, what can I get for you today?” You greeted her like you greeted every customer, understanding that besides being a famous soccer player, she was also just a person looking for a morning coffee. She ordered and took a seat in one of the corner booths.

She had come in almost every morning for the next few weeks. You were slightly suspicious of what the Manchester United player was doing here in North London, but again you were not wanting to impose and let her live her life outside of fame. So, when you came across the announcement that Alessia had transferred to Arsenal, the pieces clicked. Though, of course you continued treating her like a regular customer, letting her enjoy her personal space.

You opened up the cafe for the day and got to work on setting out the freshly baked pastries. You had opened the door for some fresh air, while you cleaned off the tables you didn’t get to last night. At the sound of footsteps, you turn around, you were met with the smile of none other than the newest member of Arsenal herself. “Hi, good morning.” You greet her with a smile of your own. “Hi, sorry I know you’re not officially open yet but I was wondering if maybe I could get a coffee to go?” The girl had such an hopeful look in her eyes that you could hardly resist, not that you would have resisted in the first place. “Yeah, no worries, of course you can.” You knew Arsenal was playing Manchester United today at Leigh Sports Village, the home stadium of her old club, and the players' bus likely had to leave within 30 minutes.

She gives you her order and you start working on it. “Thank you so much,” She starts as you hand her the cup. “you’re a lifesaver. Your coffee is the only thing that keeps me going in the morning.” You laugh with her. “Any time, I hope you have a great morning!” As she pays for her drink she tells you to keep the change for getting her a coffee before opening, you try to refuse but she insists. “Thanks again. I hope you have a great day as well.” And with that she’s out the door again.

That night you watch the match from home, you’re incredibly shocked at how rude the Manchester United fans are towards Alessia, every time she touched the ball the crowd chanted all kinds of boo’s her way. You felt for the girl, this was no way to treat a person. When you heard the Arsenal fans chant ‘Lessi Russo we’ve got - Lessi Russo we’ve got’ you were proud of your team's efforts to make Alessia feel welcome, and hoped that she was able to focus on the positivity instead of the negativity.

It was a busy Saturday morning at the cafe, still each time you heard the little bell at the door ring, you looked up to see if it was Alessia but it hadn’t been her all morning. You went around the shop seeing if anyone wanted refills on their coffee as your coworker Mandy helped the people in line with their orders. It was only after the lunch rush that Alessia walked through the door. The usual smile plastered on her face was replaced with a tired looking frown, your heart sank. When you notice her slumping down into a seat without ordering, you decide to go ahead and make her regular order for her. You set the cup down in front of her. “On the house.” You tell her when she looks at you in question.

When a group of middle aged men wearing Manchester United jerseys walked in your eyes quickly shot to Alessia, she had her backs to them so she didn’t realize. You hoped these fans weren’t like the rude ones you saw on TV last night as you took their order. The group walked past Alessia’s table and sat down a couple tables over. They immediately started whispering to each other and pointing Alessia’s way. Alessia noticed the group and looked up, the men started laughing loudly when she made eye contact with them. You saw Alessia look back down at her coffee with a sad expression on her face. “Hey, Mandy, can you take over for a bit?” Mandy agreed instantly and you walked straight to Alessia’s table.

You stand with your back to the men, and send Alessia an apologetic look. “Hi miss, that private table in the back is ready for you. If you follow me, I’ll lead you to it.” Alessia nods, grabs her bag and follows your direction. You hold open the door to the back and lead her to your office. “I am so sorry for them, Alessia. Please take all the time you need here. I can kick the group out if you want.” Alessia shakes her head, “It’s okay, they didn’t do anything yet. Wait, you knew something happened without them doing something and you know my name.” A slight blush reached your cheeks, there was no more hiding the fact that you didn’t know who she was. “I, eh- yes, I didn’t say anything, but yes. I’m y/n, to keep the name part even.” Alessia takes a seat on the couch in your office, “You knew this whole time and didn’t say anything?” You shrug, “Yeah, I’m sorry, I figured you got recognized enough and deserved regular interactions too.” Alessia smiled for the first time since she walked in. “No, no, don’t apologize. It is refreshing, just being able to order my coffee and stuff, it’s one of the reasons I enjoy your shop so much.”

“You saw the game yesterday then?” Alessia questions, once again looking down. “Yes, I did. Those Manchester United fans were absolutely horrible and I am so sorry that they treated you so badly during the game. I think you played really well, Alessia, you didn’t deserve that, no person does.” After a deep sigh, Alessia says, “Yeah, they were.” You sit with her, “For what it’s worth, I’m very happy that you joined Arsenal.” Alessia’s smile grows again, “You’re a Gooner?” In response you just say, “Lessi Russo we’ve got.” and you both start laughing. Alessia looks around, now that she’s calmed down a bit she realizes where she is, “The owner won’t mind that I am in here?” You decide to joke with her as your first answer. “Yeah, I don’t think she will mind.” She searches your face, “Are you sure?” The corners of your mouth perk up, “Oh, very sure.” You can’t hold your laughter in anymore. “I feel like I am missing something.” Alessia says with a confused look on her face. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Alessia, I am the owner, and I do not mind that you're here.” She rolls her eyes and playfully hits your arm. You talk for a bit longer before Alessia says that she has an appointment to get to. “Can I get you a coffee to go real quick?” She nods, “Yeah, I’d love that.”

You head to the front to make her coffee to go and see that the men are still there. “Here you go. They’re still here, we have a back exit if you want to ignore their presence entirely?” Alessia thanks you and follows you to the back exit. “You should come to one of our upcoming games, if you’d like.” You smile at her, “Yeah, that sounds fun.” She points to your apron, “Can I borrow your notepad for a second?” You hand it to her and watch her write something down. “Here’s my number, text me and I’ll get you into whatever game you’d like.” And with that she’s out of the door. You look down to the number with a smile on your face. When you hear Mandy call out for your help you quickly drop the note on your desk and head back to the front. “Thank you for covering, Mandy, I appreciate it.” After work that day you texted Alessia, and made plans to come see them play against Aston Villa.

The next day was slow, one Sunday it was super busy, and the other it was quite the opposite. However, soon after that thought the quiet got interrupted by the bell ringing, within seconds the room filled with chatter, you looked up and saw Alessia welcome in a group of her fellow Arsenal players. She sends you a quick wave and follows her teammates, Katie, Beth, Viv, and Leah to a booth. It was just you today, so you headed their way to take their orders. “Hi ladies, what can I get for you?” Beth is the first to talk. “Hi, Alessia over here has told us all about you, and we wanted to come see for ourselves.” After a warning nudge by Viv, she adds, “Your cafe, of course. She said the coffee was amazing here.” You smile and take their orders. “All right, coming right up.” You say not noticing the warning glances Alessia sent the other girls.

You make each of their drinks and bring them to the booth. Katie gets your attention before you turn back to the counter. “I heard you were going to come see us play next week.” You smile at the group, “Oh yeah, I am. Alessia is going to get me a ticket. I’m very excited to see you all play live.” You engage in some more small talk with the girl before letting them enjoy their coffee. As soon as you turn your back on the group, the table starts pushing Alessia to go talk to you.

Alessia walks up to the counter, you smile at her when she greets you. “Hey, did I forget something?” You ask in return. “Oh no, I just wanted to see how you were doing today.” You were happy to see that she was back to her smiley self. “I’m doing good, it’s been slow today, so I was happy to see you walk in. How about you, how are you?” Alessia leans on the counter, standing in a more comfortable position. “I’m doing well, we just got back from practice and when the girls said they wanted to get some coffee together, I told them this was the perfect place.” “Well, thank you for the compliment, I really appreciate it.” Alessia turns around and walks back to the table but you see her teammates pushing her back towards you, you smile at the scene in front of you, but quickly hide it when Alessia comes back your way. “Actually, I did have a question.”

You noticed the woman in front of you getting nervous. “Okay, ask away.” Alessia plays with the rings on her fingers. “I was wondering if you had any plans for tonight.” You smile at her, butterflies start filling your stomach. “That depends on your next question.” You joke. She stops fidgeting with her rings and looks up to read the expression on your face, when she sees you’re smirking she knows that she can continue. “Would you like to get dinner tonight? With just me, not the whole team, though we could do that too if you’d like that more.” She starts rambling. “Yes, I would love to. It’s a date, just you and me.” You discuss some details before Alessia heads back to the table. You hear them cheering her on and smile to yourself.

Not long after more people enter the shop. You help everyone with their orders with a smile that won’t falter. Alessia joins in the small line of customers. “Hi.” You greet her. “Hey.” She says back, you both smile at each other and hold eye contact for a moment before Alessia continues. “Can I pay for the whole table?” You put in the amount for the table and she pays, again with a tip. “I’ll see you tonight.” She says before joining the rest of the girls, you wave at them when they walk out. The rest of the day flies by as you are looking forward to your date with Alessia.

Continue reading part 2

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#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x y/n #arsenal women #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine

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maxwellatoms · 9 months ago

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Good day sir. Hope I'm not bothering you My brother and I are rewatching The grim adventures and it's been fun. Miss cartoons that were just plain random fun. I'm curious about 3 things if I may ask - Jeff the Spider's design changed a few times, his first appearance was more simple, his second appearance was more detailed and gross looking, then after that he went back to a simple design. Was it because the "gross" design was too hard to animate? - I've noticed in some episodes a few characters with glasses would have green eyes, similar to Nergal Junior. Was there a miscommunication with the animation team? - Lastly, is there anything you wish you could've done differently in Billy and Mandy? Like doing certain episodes or characters different? Just retrospective sorta stuff I know this is probably asking a lot, but I just want you to know you're a great source of inspiration and one of the many reasons why I love spooky supernatural content. Keep up the good fight

Hey!

#1:

The reason that most of the characters changed over time was because I updated the models to help the overseas studios (and our own internal artists) get things on-model. I'll go deeper into Billy & Mandy's history with designs in "Billy & Mandy vs. The Entertainment Industry", but I went from wanting to allow artists to have complete freedom to tightening things down as time went on. The smart play would've to develop solid models first and then explain how, when, and why you can break the rules. That's the opposite of what we did.

Jeff was a more complicated character than most, with his double-mandible, multiple eyes, and eight limbs. I suspect that what happened in this case was that the overseas studio either didn't keep or didn't share the original Jeff model with their teams, and instead only used the "special pose" model of Jeff looking gross. Like a lot of the model stuff, it was a quality control issue. Back then when everything was analog (we still had to deliver on film up through the turn of the century) it was pretty hard to change anything once it had been done. So I'd always say, "next time" and then do a clarity pass over the designs.

#2.

Same deal. In the first few seasons, we had analog color correction, where you'd go to a big suite and some guy would run picture and you'd call out anything big that was bugging you. Chances are that we either didn't notice the error, or did and just couldn't do anything about it.

All of those early Mandy smiles were put in overseas, and I wasn't allowed to fix them. It bugged me so much that I vowed to find a way to fix stuff like that myself. I eventually figured out that I could export individual frames to Photoshop, tweak them, and then give them back to the editor. That way I could actually reanimate things that really bugged me but we didn't have the budget to fix.

#3.

Nah. It's fine.

Thanks and good luck!

#maxwell atoms #billy & mandy #cartoon network #animation industry

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ipso-faculty · 4 months ago

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Today's rabbithole: the origins of "dyadic" as opposite of intersex/h-word

TLDR: "dyadic" seems to come from 1970s radical feminism and seems to have entered intersex vocabulary via gender studies. This implies it is NOT a term coined from within the intersex community.

I've been reading Cripping Intersex since it's this month's pick for @intersexbookclub (and it's not too late for you to pick it up yourself! 💜). One thing that caught my attention is Orr spends a bunch of time presenting the origins of "endosex" and "perisex" as disputed for whether these terms were coined by intersex people or not.

Orr does this because they clearly prefer "dyadic" and are trying to justify why they're talking about "compulsory dyadism" rather than "compulsory endonormativity/perinormativity" etc. 🤨

Interestingly enough, Orr makes absolutely zero attempt in the book to find an origin for the word "dyadic". 🧐 Orr also never questions whether the term "dyadic" actually came from the intersex community. 🧐 So..... rabbit hole time!

Before I get into what I found on dyadic, I wanna quickly fact check Orr on the origin of endosex. Best as I can tell, the term was first used in German in 2000 by Heike Bödeker. Bödeker is controversial for supporting autogynephilia 😬, but I've never seen anybody doubt Bödeker having mixed gonadal dysgenesis. If anybody knows of an older use of endosex, please send it my way! But as far as I can tell, "endosex" was coined by an intersex person.

Okay, onto the origin of dyadic. Orr presents this word as though its only detractors come from its implication there is a sex binary, even though as @intersex-ionality discusses here there are other reasons people don't like it. One reason is that the term is considered to originate from outside the intersex community.

Orr never questions the origins of dyadic. But intersex-ionality's post got me wondering if I could track down an textual origin.

So I went to Google Scholar, searched for "dyad" or "dyadic" plus "intersex" or the h-word and kept changing the time period increasingly far back in time. (Initially I just used intersex until I remembered the h-word slur would be more common in older articles 😬.)

I went into this thinking maybe dyadic would be related to how in early intersex studies literature like Critical Intersex (2009) you can see authors trying out terms like "dimorphic" and "dimorphous" that reference sexual dimorphism. (Neither "dyadic" nor "endosex" show up in the book.)

But the earliest works by intersex scholars that invoke dyadic tend to use it in a way that implies to me it has its own origin - e.g. Malatino (2010) talks about "at one pole, the dyad of the dimorphic heterosexual couple and, at the other, the hermaphroditic body" and "the heteronormative promised land of proper dyadic, dimorphic sex" which gives me the impression dyadic has a more sociological origin rather than the biology origin of dimorphic.

This 2010 gender studies article by Mandy Merck that talks about the intersex rights movement was my first solid lead. Merck draws a direct connection between the intersex rights movement and the 1970 book The Dialectic of Sex by Shulamith Firestone. 😯

In the book, Firestone explicitly talks about the "male-female dyad". This book had a fairly big impact when it came out. Firestone was a big-name second-wave radical feminist. And as Merck puts it: "[Firestone's] aim is to release women and men from the culturally gendered[5] dyad of the “subjective, intuitive, introverted, wishful, dreamy or fantastic” and the “objective, logical, extroverted, realistic”[6] into a society undivided by genital differences. This she calls “integration.”" (emphasis mine)

Pushing the search terms to before the 00s, I found I there were some 1980s botanists kinda using "dyad" as an opposite to "hermaphrodite" (example). I don't know how standard this was though, and with Google Scholar it is important to remember that digitization becomes less common the further back you go. 🤷‍♀️

Judith Butler used "dyadic" in a 1985 article about Foucault's Herculine Barbin.

The Butler article got me searching for more generally - "dyad" or "dyadic" plus "sex-roles male female". I found lots of results using dyadic to talk about female/male sex roles from the 1970s.... and a rather sudden paucity of such articles in the 1960s. 🤔

When I restricted the search to anything before 1970, I get results from symbolic interactionist sociology. I.e. the sociology use of "dyadic" (i.e. any social interaction happening between a pair of individuals).

So looks like dyadic as a sex role thing entered the academic lexicon in the early 70s. Which lines up pretty damn well with The Dialectic of Sex coming out in 1970. 👍️ And indeed, many of the 70s uses of "dyadic" explicitly cite Firestone.

I'm guessing Firestone was probably influenced by the interactionist term. Lots of sociologists were talking about dyadic relationships and/or interactions such as teacher-student, parent-child, husband-wife, etc. In this context, it's not surprising that Firestone would pick dyad as a term to talk about male-female sex roles and interactions.

Other than the 1980s botany articles I didn't actually find much from the pre-2000 biology world, and no leads from the medical literature. This doesn't mean "dyadic" wasn't being used by physicans, just that it isn't showing up in my searches on Google Scholar.

I'm coming out of this with the impression that Merck's got it right to be connecting the intersex-related use of dyadic as originating from the writing of Shulamith Firestone. If anybody knows of competing evidence for an origin, *please* do send it my way as I'd be super interested. But in the absence of other evidence, I'd tentatively say that the term dyadic came out of second wave radical feminism and *not* the intersex community.

#intersex #actually intersex #dyadic #endosex #etymology #queer linguistics #intersex terminology #intersex studies #queer theory #feminism #actuallyintersex

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callivich · 29 days ago

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@dazzle02 was looking for fics from Ian’s POV. This got me rereading some Ian POV fics I love and then I went down a rabbit hole. I thought I might as well do a rec list. So here’s some of my favourites and some newly discovered gems- it’s a mix of AU and canon divergent/compliant. Enjoy! 💖 If I get some time, I’ll do a Mickey POV list too!

I hit the link limit with this first post so there’s a reblog with more, don’t miss that. I’d love to know everyone’s favourite Ian POV fics so feel free to reblog with your own recs!

Map of the World by westernredcedar

Ian Gallagher knows a lot of geography.

Intro to Quantum Dating by @spoonfulstar

another college au

Everything About You by @gallavichy

Retelling of Like Real People Do from the perspective of Ian. In hopes of saving for his future, Ian Gallagher works nights on kestrel, an iOS app specializing in paid sex services. The rules there are pretty simple: appeal to your clientbase, build fantasies, and maintain appropriate boundaries. This is the story of how Ian breaks every damn rule and falls in love with Mickey Milkovich.

Darkness comes before the Dawn by @creepkinginc @ian-galagher @transmurderbug

Frank's done it again and this time, his actions have consequences in the form of a curse. How to break it is a mystery, as is the quiet, raven haired stranger that shares the woods with Ian. If they want to survive, they have to learn how to make darkness and silence go hand in hand.

hysteria by serenfire

Ian throws the first punch.

oh, deceiver, is it worth it? by segs

ian thinks he'll want to remember this forever, even though he won't.

What Goes Up by ArtsyAfrodite

He’d sling Appletinis tonight for the big tips, and dance on the diamonds he saw in the floor. He glued a smile over the sadness that long settled in the freckles you could barely see now. But he was happy, he was.

Just Enough Time by osointricate

Ian thought he knew what was coming, but he had no idea. This is Ian's point of view on his bipolar disorder.

this is the essence of love and failure by misandrywitch

“You’re sick,” Mickey says. “Hospital,” Mickey says. And your body is numb and your heart is breaking and you run.

put my faith in this hole in the ground by @gardenerian

He stands at the plot for a while before he begins working. This is it. After weeks of internet searches and sketches in his notepad, it’s time to put it all into action. Ian closes his eyes against the afternoon sun, breathes in the smell of dirt and greenery. Thinks about that giver of dreams. Opens them, squeezes the trowel in his hand. He works. He works well. And then: there it is. A goal accomplished. A beginning.

a mountain at my gates by @gardenerian

Ian loves serving cold gin and champagne to the laughing flappers that visit his family's speakeasy. Even as the Gallaghers struggle to build an empire, he thinks the only thing missing is a lover to dance with. Desperate to get out from under his father's thumb, Mickey sets out to undermine the already thriving Milkovich empire. Tasked with taking the Gallagher operation out, Mickey knows to expect violence and danger. But he never could have expected Ian.

to the thawing wind by @gardenerian

Living and working in the icy chill of an endless winter, Ian and his family are assigned to work the farms to bolster food supply. They live quietly enough, following the rules, until Mickey and Mandy Milkovich (with all their secrets) are moved in across the road.

pulling a fiona by littlemoretouchme

"Pulling a Monica. What a fucking joke. His whole life, he’s been pulling a Fiona." [Small moments between Ian and Fiona over the years, based off Cameron Monaghan saying "Fiona and Ian, who were, in many ways, the most stable components of the family… they were the ones who were consistently employed and taking care of people… are now the least stable."]

The Shirt by AlyCalypso

Ian wears Mickey's shirt by accident the first time. But then he wears it again, and again.

Not Your Mother's Love Story by orphan_account

Alternate S7 ending. The phone dinged. Missed call. Ian waited to see if there was a voicemail. He didn't know if he was going to listen to it, if Mickey left a voicemail. Part of him thought he kind of owed it to Mickey. Part of him was sure that if he heard Mickey's voice one more time, if he remembered the way he sounded when he said Ian's name, he was going to fall right back into everything he was trying to escape. There weren't any more dings. No voicemail. Nothing. It should have made Ian feel better.

Selfless Acts of the Illegal Variety by @abundanceofnots

The last thing Ian Gallagher thought he'd be at 19 is married—and to a grumpy Ukrainian bouncer called Mickey who's barely said ten words to him since they first met, no less. But when a rare chance at love knocks on your door, you don't just send the cute guy in dire need of a green card back to his homophobic father in Kyiv, right?

Undead Agents of Chaos by @abundanceofnots

Ian is fourteen when he discovers a comic book series called Undead Agents of Chaos. It’s going to take years before he’ll know what it’s like to lose a heart. First, he has to find out how it feels to have it beat out hard against his ribcage as he stands on the corner of a street, having just produced the most embarrassing sound of his life. It all starts with an unlikely friend.

Part 1 & 5 of Scenes from a Marriage by @abundanceofnots

Hilarity, love and banter ensue as Ian and Mickey navigate their life together as husbands.

young and stupid (left wide open) by @sam-loves-seb

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Mickey barks with no bite. “Can you hear me?” Ian looks up and blinks slowly at Mickey. “Sorry—what?” “Jesus,” Mickey mutters, looking over Ian with a furrowed brow. “I said are you alright?” And, like, half of him wants to say yeah, I’m fine, just forget this ever happened and get your pants off, but the other half of him wants to say no, I’m a mess, can you just come and sit next to me for a while. He doesn’t end up saying either of those things; he doesn’t even come close. // 1x09: what happens after “I need to see you” and “I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

walk away, walk away by @sam-loves-seb

Mickey half-shrugs incredulously at him with glassy eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. Ian just blinks back at him, thoroughly lost. Mickey’s jaw twitches. “Is this the end?” Ian shakes his head. “The end of what?” “Of us.” // post-canon: ian and mickey have their first big fight as a married couple.

if i could never give you peace by @sam-loves-seb

“You need to get over him,” Lip tells him. “I know,” Ian sighs. “It’s been two months.” “It’s been two years.” And that, more than anything, just makes the rumbling in Ian’s chest pound on his ribs even harder. Because, yeah—it’s been two years since they broke up, but somehow their parting at the border felt more like an ending than their breakup ever did. // post-7x11: ian feels unsettled ever since he left mickey at the mexico border.

hold tight to your umbrella by @sam-loves-seb

Because he is fine. Really, it’s nothing. It’s not that bad. He’s just tired, fatigued from the day and the racing thoughts in his head. It’s nothing he hasn’t felt on a normal day before. It’s nothing for Mickey to worry about. “You sure?” Mickey asks, wrapping his arms around Ian’s waist, hands trapped between Ian’s back and the couch. “Yeah,” Ian tells him, nodding a bit. “I think so.” He’s being honest when he says it, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true. // post-canon: ian isn’t feeling quite like himself these days.

i'd like to be my old self again (but i'm still trying to find it) by @sam-loves-seb

Mickey runs his hand over his mouth, staring at the closet and the arrangement of shirts and jackets that looks no more and no less organized than before. “You feelin’ okay?” Something prickles at the back of Ian’s neck. “I feel fine,” he answers, shaking it off. “Why?”“You don’t feel… off?” Ian scoffs. “Because I did the laundry and cleaned the apartment a little bit?” “No… yes?” Mickey winces.“Mickey. What the hell are you even saying?” // post-canon: ian is feeling better, until he’s not.

The Buzz Under His Skin by @palepinkgoat

Set in early S4. See end for mental illness warning/notes. This is definitely not what Ian meant to have happen. He had no idea what this would really be like, when he imagined it. But he never even really imagined it. It was like he snapped his fingers,and he's just here, and this guy is here, and now this is here. Happening. (or: Ian's manic thoughts tend to circle back to one blue-eyed boy.)

Before the Dawn by missmichellebelle

Mickey holds him tighter, and Ian wonders how he can feel like he’s breaking apart into a thousand pieces while being held together.

Rage Against the Dying of the Light by missmichellebelle

Ian still remembers his first visit to therapy, where he expected the chaise lounge for him to lay on and the constant sound of someone scribbling notes. What he’d gotten instead was a regular love seat, and when he’d tried to lay down on it, his therapist had given a startled little laugh and told him that it was, “Quite unnecessary, really.” She never took notes. She never even held a clipboard. She just clasped her hands in her lap and gave Ian her full attention.

superman (dumb fucking magnets) by ArtsyAfrodite

Yeah, Ian wants to be just like him. At least he’ll stick to something, point his arms towards anything.

gotta wait for you, honey by @biblionerd07

Ian's been counting down to his 30th birthday.

every time I think I've lost my way by @biblionerd07

Ian wakes up alone on a road in the woods, and he has to decide if he's going to stay or go.

fix me up by @biblionerd07

Mickey has a lot of scars. Ian has a lot of feelings about those scars.

when you get there you'll know by @biblionerd07

Ian gets out of prison 352 days before Mickey does. They do their best to make it through.

something so wretched about this by @onthepyre

five times ian thought about kissing mickey and one time he actually did

Wishbone by @fangirl-on-fire3

There’s something building, bubbles rolling across frothing water, heat and sound and thick steam curling like an impenetrable wall of humidity over the city. Each time Mickey comes into the store, gives him that predatory look, the rope of tension between them tightens, laden with the tantalizing possibility of more. For someone so stubborn, Mickey's about as flighty as a deer. The slightest threat of a kiss, even Ian looking at his lips for a second too long, always has him bolting.

take your shoes off in the back of my van by @fangirl-on-fire3

After, with the bleachers trickling a slow shower of dust above them, layers of sweat still clinging to their skin, Mickey says, “I missed you.”A storm of starlings break free in Ian’s chest, lurching his heart sideways. It’s beating so fast it might crash straight through his ribs in a violent, bloody mess. “You did?” “Yeah, man. Had to do all the fucking in prison.” Ian wilts.

Something So Pleasant About That Place by @haunted-phantom-student

Five time Ian thinks Mickey is there, and one time he actually is.

Always Darkest Before the Dawn by @haunted-phantom-student

Every time Ian feels himself going low, there’s a moment, a very distinct moment, a moment that confirms that no, he isn’t just tired after a long few days.

I Didn't Know It at Fifteen by @haunted-phantom-student

For a long time, Ian would have said that the thing with Kash started on the tenth of May. He always remembered the exact date because it was the day after his fifteenth birthday, the day he’d come into work with a new mix CD, courtesy of Lip, and a busted nose, courtesy of his father.

Love That's Laid Beside Me by @we-couch

ian's pov of the morning/day after

Glow by @we-couch

Character study of Ian over the years. (s1-7)

Apartment 4A by @we-couch

When the chaos of the Gallagher home gets to be too much, Ian decides to move out. He answers a roommate ad, and gets more than he bargained for.

keeper of the prize by @squidyyy23

Ian and Mickey, growing and learning as they become domino champions, hustle their way through their prison sentences.

Ristretto by @howlinchickhowl

Ian works the late shift at the Tamp and Grind. It's not what he always planned to be doing at 22, but it's a steady paycheck and he doesn't hate it. When he gains a new colleague with a wicked sense of humor and a sinfully hot boyfriend, he starts to think maybe he should be trying to do more with his life than perfecting his latte art.

Love, like a river by @howlinchickhowl

And it’s as Ian’s turning properly to look at him so that Mickey can fully appreciate the eye-roll that Ian feels is the necessary response to his husband being his own special brand of idiot that Mickey’s eyes start to bug in panic and his free hand slaps quickly over his mouth. He’s gonna boot again. Mickey doesn't drink enough water on hot days and Ian thinks that's dumb, but he loves him anyway.

elevator music by @iansfreckles

He’s late, he’s covered in coffee, and he’s trapped in an elevator with the biggest asshole he’s ever met in his life. (Fifteen minutes ago, Ian Gallagher slept through his alarm — and things have only gotten worse since then. OR: Ian moves out on his own, makes an impression on his new neighbor, and learns a thing or two about forgiveness.

details in the fabric by @iansfreckles

Pulling that EMT jacket on for the first time feels a little bit like donning a super suit. Like gearing up to take on the world. (OR Ian's life, as told through clothes)

we'll be a fine line (we'll be alright) by @iansfreckles

“Tried to get a job today. Didn’t work out.” Ian, feeling stiff as a board as he settled beside Mickey on their bed, let out a tight breath. “I know,” he replied after a moment, trying to be patient. He shifted to lay on his back, pointedly not looking to the man beside him, instead staring up at the dark ceiling. “I was there, remember? With the other minimum-wage earning, rotten-pig-smelling bozos.” Alright, so maybe he was hitting petty a little more than patient, tonight. Sue him. (Or an alternate ending to 11x02, where Ian and Mickey actually resolve some tensions)

a sort of fairytale by redkay

By the time Ian is tossed out of the army and makes his reluctant way home, Mickey is long gone.

Sweetpea by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Sweetpea, the stray that eats his neighbors flowers, is a little asshole of a cat. But Ian still hopes to win her over with treats from his lunch and rambling conversation as he tends to his failing garden. Just as he thinks he's starting to get her to like him, everything flips on its head. You see, Sweetpea is not a normal cat. And Sweetpea is not a she.

Customer Satisfaction by @whatthebodygraspsnot

For someone who works at a sex shop, Ian’s love life is tragically dead. That is, until a hot, flirty, tatted up customer decides to enroll in their product review program for the cash. Ian gathers the toys and takes him to the back room for their first session. He’s always kept things very professional at this job - no problems discussing sex-related things at all. But how the hell is he supposed to keep his cool behind the camera and ask corporate’s review questions when he’s got the hottest guy on the planet playing with himself just a few feet away?

How To Bag A Baddie by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Getting a text from a stranger threatening to bash his kneecaps in isn’t something Ian planned for tonight. But he’s intrigued. Call it morbid curiosity, fed by both ends as their conversation continues well past “you’ve got the wrong number”. The more he uncovers about this mystery guy, the more he likes, and the more he wants. Especially when he learns he's not the only one gunning for him. Ian is about to have a very interesting night.

@hornygaythug by @whatthebodygraspsnot

Ian's roommate is pretty. Ian's roommate is kind of an asshole. Ian's roommate posts pictures of himself online and Ian swears to god he's got it under control.

ligature by @catgrassplantdad

It was only a matter of time before they finally hit this moment, before they finally felt like they had enough experience to try this.

sink in by @catgrassplantdad

The pursuits of a married couple just trying to take a damn bath. Why is this so hard to accomplish?

Icarus Is Online by @mishervellous

AnonMate is all everyone is talking about. Ian wants in on it.

I Am the Walls of My Home by @mishervellous

Ian’s journey towards healing and self-acceptance.

Five Times Mickey Wears Ian's Clothes and One Time Ian Wears Mickey's by @teatimeallovertown

A brief look at the journey of Mickey and Ian through the clothes they share

Pink + White by @flamingbluepanda

Ian and Mickey reunite, separate, and reunite again. (Or, The Early Season 10 Prison Arc we Deserved(TM) )

how to love by proval

Mickey's body's been a bit quieter for a while now, no longer wracked through with those heaving sobs. But Ian gets the feeling if he leaves they'll start up again. Ian POV gap filler for 11x09. Starts after the end of 11x08.

Stages by @dreamylyfe-x

It’s nice for married couples to share interests and experiences. But they didn’t really need their dads to die one after the other like this.

Risk by @dreamylyfe-x

Ian and Mickey figuring out marriage, and each other, in the middle of a global crisis. Canon compliant to the end of season 10.

'Til the Day My Life is Through by @ianrightsonly

Ian is devastated by the thought of Mickey not remembering their first wedding anniversary. He should know better than to ever doubt his husband.

Baby, That's What Makes Us... by @ianrightsonly Ian says no more sex until Mickey gets a job. Mickey says no more sex until Ian gets over himself. Easier said than done, when you’re married and sharing the same bed.

Every Time We Say Goodbye by @ianrightsonly

Ian remembers every kiss he’s ever shared with Mickey. The quick pecks on the cheek; the frantic, biting and bruising makeouts; the slow, languid movements of their mouths against one another. He remembers them all, and he thinks of them often. This kiss though, it’s one of his favorites.

Claim by @gallavictorious

Mickey wants back into Ian's life. Ian wonders if, and how, to let him. Or, the one where the boys conduct their meaningful conversations not by talking but by having sex.

Foreign Country by @gallavictorious

Never returning had not been a conscious choice. Neither was going back. Ian, Kash and Grab, and the memories of good times and bad - and most of all of Mickey.

All You Wanna Do series by @usercelestial

explorations of ians sexual trauma

I Got This by @usercelestial

ian learns to accept help or three times ian deals with it on his own and one time he doesn't have to

The waves come forward, we are traveling together by sadwhales

Ian remembers the first time Mickey ever smiled at him. or, On the night of their wedding, Ian and Mickey talk a little bit about the past, and surprisingly, their feelings.

life of the party by framboise

In which Ian and Mickey are domestic bitches, and deal with some of Ian's memories of those lost months working in the clubs.

These Undomesticated Wilds by @arrowflier

When Ian Gallagher left Chicago behind him to traipse aimlessly through the wilderness, he was hoping to find himself--the self that he had lost when his bipolar diagnosis had his family treating him with kid gloves and his boyfriend annoyed with his melancholic acceptance of his new life. He wasn't looking for a rescue. But when he's injured on a hike through the woods in southern Indiana, a rescue is what he gets. And if he's lucky, he might find a little more than he was looking for.

Bold Will Hold by @smokey-mickey

Ian tries to play it cool as he’s greeted with bright blue eyes standing out against pale skin. Ian can see the edges of tattoos poking out of his jacket at his neck and wrists, and a simple silver nose ring in his right nostril. Awkward yet adorable Tattoo AU.

body and mind by @unbridgeabledistances

He immediately pushes the thought down. He doesn’t fucking need that anymore to keep his head above water; he’s stable, he’s loved, he’s fed. He’s growing organic tomatoes, and definitely developing a farmer’s tan from his days hunched over their way-too-tiny community garden plot, tenderly watering and pruning the vines and brambles. He's desired. So it doesn’t make fucking sense that the hunger, the clawing in his stomach for an absence, doesn’t really stop. or, ian’s body image through the years (based on the tumblr prompt: ian struggling with eating once they move to the west side)

kings of the southside by @unbridgeabledistances

The storefronts on the block were different now— fragile minimalist displays and organic coffee shops uprooting the aged wooden bar signs with peeling paint and bullet holes— but against all odds, and with everyone else moving on, he and Mickey had decided to stay. (or, a canon divergent fic in which ian and mickey stay on the southside and take over the alibi)

we’re the center of our universe by @unbridgeabledistances

It wasn’t like Ian wanted to bring up the conversation again, about monogamy and boundaries and fuck-knows-what-else; but these past few weeks had been hard, like something cavernous was cracking and splintering between them. Their banter had slowly turned less and less humorous, and more pointed and jagged, about who was the breadwinner and who was the “man”; and even though they’d patched it up and built small bridges between them, and had hung off of each other’s bodies at Lip’s apartment the night Ian had brought up the monogamy conversation for the first time, Ian couldn’t help but feel the weight of the things unsaid wriggling and rustling inside him, like a germinating seed about to bloom. or, a communicative little one-shot of ian and mickey discussing their boundaries and processing traumas

The Second-Time Commitment by ListenListen223

Ian levels out after a manic episode, 74 hours into an involuntary hospitalization. Mickey won't bust him out, and insists that he got him to the best hospital in Chicago, so Ian better get better. Surrounded by people who think that the stuff they've been through is maybe a little bit serious, Ian and Mickey have to decide what's worth talking about, and what to leave on the South side. At least for the next 70 hours.

Because…You’re My Husband by @wildxwired

“Monica would have loved today.”

Last of a Dying Breed by @wildxwired

After the death of his sociopathic PO, Ian’s sent to work at XK9, the dog rescue that gives second chances to the unwanted pets and ex-cons of the southside — and it just so happens to be run by the most unlikely success story of them all.

There Are Places You Belong by @livinginsunnyhell

He knew he had his siblings, but sometimes they were so caught up in their own stuff, they couldn’t be there in the way he needed. Mickey was. Mickey always had been. He was his home after all. Ian and Mickey adjust to the West Side and grow closer in their second year of marriage.

your voice is the sound of sirens (to a house on fire) by hypernomad

Ian learns how to read; he never really learns how to stop. When he’s six, he reads Alice in Wonderland and wonders, vaguely, if Lewis Carroll was actually predicting the life of a certain freckled redhead in Chicago with an alcoholic father and an erratic mother. It certainly seems that way at times. His life is a psychedelic mess of being left at the roadside with his brother and sisters, being “given” to random women in the street by his stoned mother, and blinking ash out of his eyes after his father drunkenly throws an ashtray at him for looking like his uncle. The thought is fleeting and he shakes it away as quickly as it comes.

saut dans le vide, my lover by armsoftheocean

When Ian sees Mickey’s smiling response, he can’t help but smile wider with his eyes lighting up and he knows he looks fucking ridiculous; beaming as if Mickey had handed him the key to the universe, but his heart is thrumming with happiness and fuck, he’s so far gone that he doesn’t even give a shit.

#ian gallagher #shameless #shameless us #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #fic rec #don’t forget to check the reblog for more recs!#rec list

52 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Got the News Today, Doctor Said I Had to Stay

Collaboration with the fabulous @corroded-hellfire

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: When you're stuck in the hospital after the Hawkins "earthquake," you're surprised to find comfort in your new roommate, Eddie Munson. But when you find out that your injuries may compromise your dreams, the cheery façade threatens to come crashing down.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, controlled use of pain medication

WC: 3.9k

A/N: There will be six chapters to this series, one for each Jonas Brothers album. Try to spot the Easter eggs we've planted throughout!

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“I said, get this murderer out of my room!” A shrill voice from across the hall startles you from your sleep. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 7:05, but you can’t be sure if it’s morning or evening. The bright lights of Hawkins General Hospital have your internal clock all jumbled, and the constant barrage of nurses checking on you certainly doesn’t help.

“He should be locked up in prison or rotting on death row, not using precious resources that could be used on law-abiding citizens!” the shrieking woman continues, and you grimace as your head throbs. It seems like the pain never ceases; it only travels around your body. You’ve been here for two days, and you have more questions than answers.

There’s quiet for a few moments before the door to your room swings open and a second bed is being wheeled in, more IV lines hooked up to the poor patient than you’ve got going on. A nurse pulls the curtain separating the two sides of the room before you can get a look at whoever is lying in the bed.

“Well, that was a record,” a male voice says from the other side of the curtain. “How long before that one freaked out? Six minutes?”

No one answers the man, but you can hear nurses and orderlies setting up any equipment the patient would need.

“Don’t blame them,” a woman eventually mumbles, moving a machine over. “Kid killed a cheerleader and then fled the scene. I wouldn’t wanna bunk with him, either.”

A new pair of footsteps joins the crowded room, but this time it’s just your nurse, Mandy, coming in to check on you. She’s a pretty blonde woman, and though she’s usually smiling, her lips are puckered into a pout.

“I know this is far from ideal,” she says softly, checking your vitals and marking notes on her chart, “but we’ll have people in here making sure nothing happens, okay?”

“I think she’s pretty harmless, just loud,” you lightly joke, assuming that Mandy’s referring to the banshee across the hall. “Worst thing she’ll do is trigger a migraine.”

She shakes her head. “No, hon. I’m talking about your, uh, new roommate. Edward Munson.”

Well, that explains the whole murderer outburst. Still, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Eddie? I went to school with him. Guy couldn’t even be bothered to turn in his part of a group project; I highly doubt he could pull off a murder.” You’d think he would have had something done, considering it was his second time taking O’Donnell’s senior English class, but he’d shown up empty-handed, leaving his poor partner scrambling at the last minute.

Mandy nods, looking a little relieved herself. Maybe the thought of her having to be his nurse had been eating at her.

“Is he awake?” you ask. You can only assume he’s not, because the Eddie Munson you remembered would never have been quiet for this long.

“Sleeping,” Mandy says. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

“Um.” You wrinkle up your nose as you think, a sharp pain taking that moment to shoot down your leg. “When can I get some more pain medication? And food?”

Going through the papers in your chart, Mandy’s eyes scan lines of writing until she comes to the answer she needs. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes until I can give you your next dose. Luckily, dinner should be here quicker than that.”

“Okay,” you say with a sigh, sinking back against your pillows.

After another round of pain meds, you’re able to drift off into a light sleep. You don’t have dreams on the medication; you’re simply floating in a haze of pinks and purples. Perhaps the dreamlessness is a good thing, considering the memories buried deep inside your unconscious mind. Your roommate is not so fortunate.

“No! Stop!” Eddie whimpers from the bed next to you, startling you from your sleep. You can see through the translucent curtain that he’s trying to thrash, but his injuries limit his movements. “Henderson, help me! Get me out of here!”

“Hey,” you whisper, but when he cries out again, you raise your voice slightly. “Eddie, wake up!”

“I won’t run away, didn’t run away, gotta save Chrissy,” he mumbles, still trapped in his nightmare. “Don’t let me die. Don’t wan’ die.” The urgency in his tone falters, and you realize that he’s crying.

“Eddie, you’re alive!” you call out to him, wishing you had the strength to walk to him and shake him awake. “You survived the earthquake, okay? But you gotta wake up!”

You watch as he jolts up involuntarily, groaning loudly as pain blooms throughout his torso. “Fuck,” he moans, clutching his ribs with one arm. “Wha—where am I? Oh, shit.” He lays back down as the realization sets in. He tries to choke back a sob, inadvertently sending himself into a coughing fit.

“Here,” you call out to him, grabbing the cup of water on your bedside table. “Can you open the curtain and reach?”

Eddie’s able to yank back the cloth fabric, but neither of you can move close enough for him to grasp onto the cup. The two of you are confined to hospital beds, arms outstretched pathetically just to pass a glass of water. The scene is so absurd that you have to laugh.

“You think—cough—this is—cough—funny?” Eddie asks, but his grin indicates that he also finds it amusing. “I survived the Up—earthquake, and—cough—now I’m gonna die from—cough—lack of water?”

“‘M sorry,” you manage between peals of laughter. “I’m just imagining how ridiculous we’d look to someone passing by.”

Eddie uses his last bit of strength to lunge, finally securing the cup and guzzling down the water. “Thanks, um…” He cranes his neck to see your name written on the whiteboard above your bed. “Oh, shit! Did we go to high school together?”

You nod. “We did. I graduated last year. We had Mrs. O’Donnell’s English class together.”

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of his least favorite teacher. “Ugh, yeah. I mean, not ugh that we had a class together; ugh at O’Donnell,” he blabbers. “And an extra ugh for me having to take that class again this year.”

“I thought a certain metalhead was missing from graduation,” you tease.

“Aw, you noticed?” Eddie’s smirk makes you laugh, the pain meds probably adding to your bubbly mood.

“Well, no one caused a commotion or flipped off old man Higgins, so yeah,” you say. “And there was a distinct lack of Black Sabbath blaring through the parking lot.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Gotta stay inspired, y’know? I don’t want to be one of those musicians who has someone write their shit for them. It makes it less real, or whatever.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You write all of Corroded Coffin’s music?” you ask incredulously.

Eddie nods. “Well, me and the rest of the guys—wait,” he pauses, eyes narrowing with suspicion, “you know the name of my band?”

“Mhm,” you pick at the itchy wool blanket draped over your legs. “You played at the middle school talent show. I was in seventh grade, so you must’ve been in eighth.”

He doesn’t say anything for a bit; he just studies your face until a huge grin forms from cheek to cheek. “You’re the dancer!” he exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You did that routine with the, um, the fancy shoes…”

“Pointe shoes,” you giggle. “Yeah, people weren’t too impressed. Apparently a twelve-year-old flailing on stage to Swan Lake was not the hit I’d thought it’s be.”

“Flailing?” Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, you were amazing. Don’t tell my friends, but I, uh, secretly wanted you to win.”

“Me?!”

“Yeah, you.” He matches your surprised tone, making you laugh again. “I thought it was totally badass, getting up there and doing ballet when all the other girls were jumping around to Blondie.”

“Don’t knock Debbie Harry,” you warn him teasingly, poking your forefinger in his direction. “She is an icon, and you will show her some respect.”

Eddie brings a hand to his heart. “My deepest apologies, to both you and Ms. Harry.” He flashes another sweet smile that could melt an iceberg. “But I really did want you to win. I’ve always rooted for the underdog.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” And you do. It’s nice to know that someone besides your parents believed in you.

“You, uh, you still dance?” Eddie asks abruptly.

“Yup,” you tell him, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s actually what I go to school for.”

“Good,” Eddie muses, averting his gaze from your side of the room. “You were too talented to give that up.”

You’re about to respond when there’s a knock on the door and you see an orderly walk in with a food tray. You drop your head back on your pillow, humming your happiness. The orderly sets your table within your reach before placing your tray on it. Before the man can even step out the door to grab Eddie’s food, you’re inhaling the soup you’ve been given. You’re distantly aware as Eddie gets his food, but you’re busy trying to figure out what type of soup it is. Is that potato in it?

A groan from the other side of the curtain has you looking in Eddie’s direction as you swallow a mouthful of soup.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing,” Eddie says, clearly lying.

“If we’re going to be roommates, we’re going to have to learn to be honest with one another.”

He huffs a laugh as he clangs his silverware together. “S’just that it’s gonna sound ridiculously stupid after what everyone has been through.”

“Humor me,” you say before ladling another spoonful of soup in your mouth.

“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I got green Jell-O. I hate that shit.”

Your eyes lock on your own Jell-O, bright red where it sits next to your piece of bread and cup of water. “How do you feel about red?”

“Much better,” Eddie says, tearing off a piece of his own bread and shoving it into his mouth.

“Wanna trade?” you offer.

“Y’don’t have to do that,” he says through his full mouth.

“Nah, come on,” you say. “Besides, green’s my favorite color.”

Eddie looks over at you, a skeptical look on his face as he chews. But you pick up your sealed cup of Jell-O and toss it over to him. Smiling, he throws the green in return, which you manage to catch.

“Thanks,” he says. You hum in acknowledgment as you tear off the foil lid.

There’s a beat of silence as you both eat what Hawkins General considers dessert. “I don’t know how you like the green one,” Eddie pipes up.

You shrug. “Jell-O is Jell-O,” you say nonchalantly, taking a big spoonful to emphasize your point.

“Nuh uh,” Eddie shakes his head, wincing at the twinge of pain it causes. “Cherry is the superior flavor, and everyone knows it.” He slurps it obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes.

“Geez, how does Chrissy put up with you?” Your tone is light and joking, so you’re taken aback by the darkness that takes over his face. “What?”

“How do you know about Chrissy?” he asks, voice barely audible.

Your face heats up; you’d forgotten that he didn’t know you’d heard him talking in his sleep. “Um, you said something about saving her when you were having that nightmare,” you admit, softening when you realize how vulnerable he is. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she isn’t—wasn’t,” he amends. “She was the girl who died in my trailer. But I…I didn’t kill her, I swear.” Eddie looks over at you with misty eyes. “I can’t tell you what happened, but you have to believe me.”

You hold his gaze. “I believe you,” you murmur, quiet but assured.

The two of you go back to your food, plastic utensils scraping styrofoam bowls, until Eddie speaks up again. “You…you said I talked about Chrissy in my sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“What else did I say?” He looks ambivalent, like he’s unsure if he wants to know what his subconscious mind churned up.

You think back for a moment. “You asked someone for help, and then you said you didn’t want to, um…you didn’t want to die.” Your eyes flit over to his side of the room, but he’s practically boring a hole in his Jell-O cup with how intently he’s staring at it.

“Did you tell me to wake up? That I survived?” He finally allows himself to make eye contact with you, a trace of a smile dancing on his lips.

“Yeah—I can never remember if you’re supposed to let the nightmare end naturally, but you seemed really upset.” You gnaw on your lower lip anxiously.

Eddie rests his head on the pillow. “God, this is gonna sound corny as hell,” he starts, chuckling to himself, “but when you did that, it was like…I saw brightness, y’know? Not like, Eddie, come into the light,” he drops his voice an octave and wiggles his fingers, making you giggle, “but like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. Does that make sense?”

You nod, watching him exhale in relief.

“Guess you’re my sunshine then, huh?” He gives you a shy smile that you easily return, trying to push down the spark of electricity that seems to flow between you.

“Hey, how about this?” Eddie asks as he lands on a channel. Your eyes feel like they’re going to roll back in your head when you see a NASCAR race on tiny television.

“Absolutely not,” you answer.

“Aw, come on,” Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s an American pastime.”

“It’s one big left turn, is what it is,” you shout. “Toss me the remote?” Eddie chuckles and goes to throw it your way before you wince and add, “Watch the leg!”

He’s careful to avoid the area as he sends it your way, but his eyes drift down the blanket at the mention of your limb. “Is that why you’re in here?”

“No, I’ve always wanted to vacation here,” you reply, maintaining a deadpan expression.

“I hear the eleventh floor is just wonderful this time of year,” Eddie throws back, feigning a posh British accent. Terribly, you might add. “How bad is it?” he presses, motioning towards your leg.

“Dunno yet,” you answer honestly. “They took some x-rays and did a bunch of scans; now I’m just waiting for the doctor. They’re probably just overwhelmed.”

Eddie nods. “Nothing like a good, old-fashioned earthquake to shake things up.” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to react to his pun. Nothing. “Oh, c’mon! That was a good one!”

“You’re a comedic genius, Eddie Munson,” you joke, and he flips you off, nearly snagging the IV tube pinching his skin. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll probably be in a cast for six weeks, maybe have to do some physical therapy. This isn’t my first broken bone.”

“How do you do that?” Eddie muses.

“Do what?”

“Be so…positive,” he explains sheepishly. “I mean, you could be all bitter or anxious, but you’re calm, cool, and collected.” He fiddles with his fingers, frowning as though something is missing. “You really are a ray of sunshine, huh?”

“That’s me.” Truthfully, you’re worried that this could be more than just a run-of-the-mill break, but you don’t let that fear seep through. Instead, you aim the remote at the tiny TV in the corner of the room, settling on a soap opera rerun. It’s not what you’d usually watch, but you’re determined to get your revenge for his NASCAR escapades earlier.

To your chagrin, Eddie’s enthralled with the on-screen drama. “Oh, shit!” He rubs his hands together. “Is this the one where Shelby sleeps with Theo and his identical twin brother, Mark?” He chuckles at the bemused look on your face. “I got hooked on this show when I was home with the flu last year,” he confesses, though he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed.

“Eddie Munson, secret soap opera aficionado?” You waggle your eyebrows. “Scandalous. What will your fans think?”

“I am what I am, Sunshine.” He sits up a little straighter as a woman with big hair and even bigger breasts shoves ultrasound photos at an impossibly handsome man. “No fuckin’ way!” Eddie gasps. “She’s knocked up!”

“How did you not see that coming? It’s like the oldest trick in the book!” you ask incredulously. “Now she has to figure out which brother is the dad.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes widen in shock. “But they’re identical! How’s she gonna do that?”

“Guess you’ll just have to watch and find out!” you chirp, giggling as he lets out an impatient sigh.

“Mr. Munson?” a nurse calls from the doorway, pushing an empty wheelchair. “We’re ready to run your tests. Just have to transfer you to the chair.” She pats the back of it, trying to keep some level of professionalism, but you can tell that she’s nervous being around an alleged murderer. She holds out her hand to help Eddie out of bed, and he shoots you a tight grin.

“I’m goin’ commando under here, Sunshine,” he warns you. “Look away. This show ain’t free.”

You cover your eyes dramatically as he plops into the chair, grunting and groaning the whole way down. “Is it safe?”

“You’re good,” Eddie reassures you as the nurse starts to wheel him out of the room. “Hey, let me know who the father is when I get back. My money’s on Theo.”

You narrow your eyes. “How much money?”

“Hmm,” Eddie taps his chin with his forefinger, pretending to be deep in thought. “It won’t be as much as usual, since I already bought a beach house and a Jaguar this year…$3,000 sound good?”

You give him a little salute, turning your attention back to the show. Settling in against the pillows, you get immersed in the show yourself, rooting for some characters, and wanting some to get stabbed in the backs like they deserve. Just as it comes back to Shelby’s storyline, your doctor walks in, a tight smile on his lips.

“What’s the news, Dr. Sanoj?”

“Well,” he says, looking down at the chart in his hands. “Like we suspected, it’s your femur. It was crushed pretty badly. It’s going to need a few pins in it, which will require some surgery.”

Letting a deep sigh fall from your lips, you nod your head. “Okay. Was kind of expecting that.”

“Now, we won’t know for sure until we get in there and take a look at things, but there’s a chance you’ll need a mobility aid to help you get around.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brows pinching in confusion. “Like crutches?”

“Crutches are one type of aid, yes. But they range in variety. It’s things like wheelchairs, walkers, canes. But this will be a better discussion for once we see how the surgery turns out,” Dr. Sanoj says.

“Would I need to use one forever?” The sympathetic look that softens your doctor’s face lets you know he heard the trepidation in your voice. “Will I be able to dance again?”

“Like I said,” Dr. Sanoj says, “this discussion is best for once the surgery is done.”

You nod your head, knowing you probably won’t be able to get any further information on the subject out of him. “When will I have the surgery?”

“Scheduling is going to work that out and they should let you know by the end of the day. You can expect to be here the days following the surgery, but you shouldn’t be cooped up in these hospital walls for too much longer. You’ll get there, you’ll see. One day at a time.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

A funk has taken over you once Dr. Sanoj leaves the room. A mobility aid? Could you dance with one of those? Surgery and recovery you planned on, but the goal was always to get you back in the dance studio, and needing a device to help you simply get around was not what you had been expecting.

Allowing yourself to stew in your own self pity for a few moments, you realize you’ve missed the big reveal on which brother is the father of Shelby’s baby. You’ll have to tell Eddie that. Explain the doctor came in and you were talking to him. But, you think to yourself, Eddie doesn’t need to know just what rough shape your leg is in. He calls you his sunshine, doesn’t he? That would just bring some gray clouds that he did not need in his life. He’s got a lot going on and is going to need to keep his spirits up. That’ll be easier for you to do if you pretend like everything is rainbows and lollipops.

The door opens and Eddie is wheeled back inside, groaning in pain as he holds a hand over his ribs.

“Right here with the pain medicine,” Nurse Mandy says, stepping in behind him.

“Oh, please be mine,” Eddie says, watching the bundle in Mandy’s hands like a hawk. “Sorry roomie, I think I need it more than you do right now.”

“S’all yours,” you tell him.

Mandy sets a bag of IV fluid up as the transporter helps Eddie get back in bed. His face is pale, and you’ve learned that comes when agonizing pain is ripping through you.

“Okay, Mr. Munson. Should start hitting you at any minute now,” Mandy says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says, letting his eyes drift closed. He stays that way after both the nurse and the transporter leave the room. You think he’s fallen asleep until he speaks again. “So, which brother was it?”

“Ah, sorry, Eddie,” you say. “Doc came in and I was talking with him, so I think I missed it.”

“Good news?” Eddie’s opened his eyes and turns his head to look at you, genuine concern written across his face.

For a moment, you contemplate spilling everything: the surgery, the mobility aid, the possibility of never dancing again. But you shove it deep down, determined to keep your cheery disposition that he so desperately needs. “Y-Yeah, everything’s looking ship-shape.” Ship-shape? You’re a terrible liar, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.

“Thas’ good shit.” From the dreamy quality his voice is taking in, you can tell the pain meds are starting to take effect.

“How’re you feeling?” you ask.

“Sore as hell from how they had to maneuver me for x-rays. But I feel the medicine kicking in.” A smile comes to his face and you can tell the giddiness of the high is hitting him. “Time for me to fly.”

You giggle and turn your attention back to the television. A game show is on now, so you snuggle in to play along. The contestant is getting an obvious puzzle wrong and it makes you roll your eyes. You’re about to say something to Eddie about it, but then his soft snores reach your ears. Turning your head to look at him, you notice how peaceful he looks. All you can do is pray he stays that way and isn’t plagued by any other nightmares.

Sunshine, he calls you. It’s the nicest nickname you’ve ever been given. You’re hoping you can keep that bright and optimistic attitude up enough to help him out when the clouds come rolling in. It’s not a one-way street, though. Eddie is going to be your light, your breath of fresh air, your optimism. You just don’t know it yet.

#albl #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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ac-19 · 4 months ago

Text

Friends or? D. Franklin (Bravo 6)

Summary: friends or more?

"Hey, I know you hate these. Say the word, and we'll find another way."

I shook my head as I looked back in the mirror at Jason who was leaning on the door frame of the bathroom I was getting ready in for the op.

"I'm good."

Jason nodded.

"You sure about going with Drew? I could send Ray with you instead."

I chuckled and put my head before I turned around to face Jason.

"No offense Jase, but I'm twenty-seven years old and I'd like to believe I look my age so I doubt anybody would ever believe Ray and I were dating. That's the reason I always went out with Clay because we were the most believable as a couple other than you and Mandy."

Jason nodded.

"Yeah, you're probably right."

I nodded.

"I can handle Drew."

Jason nodded.

"We roll out in fifteen."

I nodded as Jason pushed himself up right and walked back downstairs where the rest of the team was. I turned around and quickly finished curling my hair and applied some lipstick before I headed downstairs with the rest of the team.

"I guess you're my girlfriend now."

I shook my head as I stood beside Drew as Lisa briefed us on the mission. Next thing I knew Drew and I were walking over to the club where we were going to spend the next few hours probably hunting our target and dancing too if I had anything to do with it.

"Can we drink on these ops?"

I chuckled as I looked over at Drew.

"If you're footing the bill, yeah. As long as you don't get wasted."

Drew nodded and put his hand on the bottom of my back as we walked inside the club and through the crowd. We made our way to the bar and Drew ordered us two beers.

"I heard you used to do these missions with the other Bravo 6."

I nodded as I leaned my forearms onto the bar in front of me.

"He's got a name. Clay Spenser."

Drew nodded.

"But yeah I used to."

"You two ever?"

I started laughing.

"No. He was married to one of my best friends."

"That don't mean shit these days."

"Maybe not to you, and anyways when you're on the same team relationship's are always messy. Is all the sneaking around really worth it?"

Drew shrugged as he angled his body forward and leaned onto his left arm which was on the bar.

"Depends on the person."

I shrugged.

"I guess, but for real Clay and I we were..."

"If you say Battle Boos I'm walking out that fucking door right now."

I shook my head as I grabbed onto the beer bottle the bartender had just put down in front of us and then without a second thought I grabbed onto his hand with my free hand.

"Let's go dance for a while."

Drew quickly grabbed his beer off the bar and followed me to the dance floor. I inhaled sharply as Drew wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. I turned my head to avoid Drew's gaze and hopefully he couldn't make out the blush on my cheeks in this dark club. I swallowed my spit and breathed in as I felt his hot breath on my ear.

"Gotta make this shit believable right?"

I nodded as I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck and turned my head to look up at him only for our noses to brush against each other with how close our faces were to each other.

"Right."

"Bravo 6 and Bravo 7 check in."

Drew stood back up straight and I turned my head to look around.

"Do you see him?"

I peered over Drew's shoulder and nodded.

"Bravo 1 this is 7, he just walked in. Sitting at the bar."

"How much security?"

I leaned my head against Drew's shoulder as we swayed back and forth.

"Three men."

"Good copy Bravo 7."

"This could be classified as messy."

"Keep it in your pants 6, it's for the op."

"Right. For the op."

We spent another hour "dancing" and nothing was happening and I was getting fed up. My feet were starting to hurt and I wasn't drunk enough to be here.

"Time for another drink?"

I nodded as I looked up at Drew. He unwrapped his arms from around me and I instantly missed the warmth of his body against mine.

Focus.

He clasped his hand in mine, and we headed towards the bar and towards where our target was sitting. Drew pulled me forward and he stood flush behind me, and wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Two more please."

The bartender nodded and I took a peek over at our target who was just sitting there laughing and smoking a cigarette with his friends.

"If you don't stop moving your ass around like that, we won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

My cheeks turned a light shade of pink as I turned my head to look at Drew.

"Sorry, my feet are killing me. Moving my legs around helps a bit with the pain."

He nodded as he reached up and pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen on my face.

"Here you go."

I quickly turned around and took hold of the beer that the bartender just put on the counter.

"Shit."

"What?"

"He's gone."

"Bravo 1 this is 7 we lost eyes on the target."

"2 you got the tracker on his vehicle?"

"Negative."

"He couldn't of gone far."

"Let's go outside."

Drew nodded and grabbed onto my hand as we pushed our way outside the club. Our target was standing outside by the door smoking another cigarette and I looked over at Drew.

"You were fucking checking her out weren't you?"

I urged him to continue with my little fake fight in order to buy Omar some time to hopefully get a tracker on the guy's car.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I saw the way you looked at her."

"You're a lunatic you know that?"

"Right I'm the crazy bitch."

"You've been checking guys out all night too, including this guy. Yeah I saw the way you looked at him, what does he have that I don't huh?"

I furrowed my eyebrows at Drew. Where was he going with this? He pushed past me and walked straight up to our target.

"Excuse me sir, my girlfriend here seems to think you're better looking than me."

I quickly turned around.

"Oh for fuck sakes, I never said."

"You didn't have to say it, I saw the way you've been looking at him all night."

"I think you need to control your girl."

"Control me? Who the fuck does this guy think he's talking to?"

Drew stepped forward.

"You can't talk to my girl like that."

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do tough guy?"

He pulled his shirt up revealing a gun tucked in his waistband and I looked over at Drew. We didn't have any weapons it was time to walk away.

"This the type of guy you want babe? A short, fat fuck who clearly carries a gun for show, I bet you don't even know how to use that thing."

I took a step forward and before I could get Drew out of there the guy took a hold of his gun and pistol wiped Drew which landed him on the ground. Come on Omar, hurry up.

"1 this is 2, tracker secured."

Next thing I knew our target was kicking Drew in the ribs as he laid on the ground.

"Bravo 6 what the fuck is going on?"

I looked back and saw Jason standing in the shadows. I quickly focused my attention back on Drew and stepped forward.

"Bravo 6 cut the shit."

"Okay, okay that's enough. Lets just go home babe."

"Yeah I think it's time you take him home."

The target walked off and I quickly bent down to help Drew up.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Anything for mission sucess right?"

I shook my head as Drew stood up. The huge gash on his forehead was gushing out blood, and I sighed as I reached up to check it out.

"I'm fine."

Drew pushed my hand away softly and I nodded.

"Okay. Let's get out of here."

Drew nodded and we walked up the street and met up with the rest of the team. The ride back to the safe house was silent but Jason didn't hold back his dissapointement when we walked inside.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Jase mission was a success."

"It could of been a disaster Ray. Since when does Bravo 6 get to do as he pleases without checking in first?"

"It wasn't all Drew, I was part of it too."

"You should of known better. You told me you could handle going with Drew but clearly not."

"How is this our fault? We had to do something. We were in there for over an hour I think the better question here is why did it take Omar so long to put a tracker on the guys motorcycle ?"

"Coming after your 2IC do you want to get kicked off this team?"

"Right about now, sounds like the best fucking option to me. Clearly you don't trust Drew and I. I've been on this team for almost a year now I should of earned a little more respect than that."

"You'll earn my respect when you stop fucking things up."

"Okay, everybody take a breath. Mission sucess; who cares how we got there right Jason?"

Jason looked over at Drew.

"Get him stitched up."

I nodded and I headed towards the kitchen.

"What the hell was that?"

"Got the job done didn't it?"

"You two looking to get yourself kicked off this team?"

I ignored Sonny and got the med kit and headed towards the table that Drew was standing in front of.

"Can you sit please?"

"I'm fine."

"The huge gash on your forehead would disagree. Sit down."

Drew sighed, and plopped himself down in the chair. I could hear the snickers coming from Sonny and Omar but I just chose to ignore them.

I stepped in between Drew's legs and he let his left hand linger on my exposed thigh, from the dress I was still wearing, for a second before Sonny said something and he quickly pulled his hand away as he turned his head to look at Sonny.

"Guys you're not helping here."

"Oh come on you just need to flash Drew over there and you'll have all his focus."

"How is he not stitched up yet?"

I sighed as I turned around to look at Jason.

"I give up. Stich him up yourself."

I dropped the glue I was holding into the med kit, turned around and walked off. I shouldn't let comments like Sonny's bother me anymore, but they did. I hadn't been standing in the room by myself for more than a minute when Drew walked into the room holding the med kit.

"I'm sorry."

I shook my head as I pulled out a chair and grabbed the med kit out of Drew's hand.

"Why you saying sorry?"

"For those two idiots out here."

I chuckled lightly.

"Sit down."

"Yes ma'am."

I shook my head as I grabbed some gauze and the glue out of the med kit and started cleaning up Drew's wound.

"You know Jason is right, that was a really stupid move you pulled back there."

"Worked didn't it?"

"I guess, but you could of stopped it anytime why didn't you?"

"Because so long as he was focusing on me, he wasn't focusing on you."

I nodded as I finished cleaning up his wound and applied the medical glue before covering it up with a bandage.

"Look (Y/N)..."

"We roll out in ten."

I turned my head and nodded at Brock.

"Copy that."

I turned back around to face Drew.

"What were you gonna say?"

"Not important. We should get out there."

I nodded. We rolled out to check out another target before coming back empty. The tension was still high for the rest of the night and I was hoping that when I went down for coffee the next morning that it wouldn't be as high.

"If I'm sweet on Davis we need to talk about how Drew here is sweet on (Y/L/N)."

I stopped dead in my track as I easedropped on the conversation happening in the kitchen. I've had the biggest crush on Drew since he joined the team but no way he felt the same.

"Yeah right Sonny."

"Oh come on, we seen the way you were looking at her yesterday after the op."

"It's called acting boys. Look team relationship are messy, there's a reason why all three of us are single."

"Right."

"And one night stands are the way to go boys. You get a good fuck with no feelings mixed in."

I put my head down and headed towards the porch to get some fresh air.

"What are you doing out here?"

I chuckled as I looked over at Lisa.

"Probably doing the same thing as you, hiding from the boys."

She nodded.

"Can I be honest with you?"

I nodded.

"Always."

"Whatever is going on with you and Drew, be careful. It can get messy really quickly."

I nodded.

"You and Sonny right?"

Lisa put her head down and I smiled.

"I'm not gonna say anything, you've got my word. I just wish it wasn't so complicated."

Lisa nodded.

"You and me both. I'm just trying to warn you before you get to deep in it. Team relationship never work."

I nodded.

"Thanks for the advice Lisa."

She nodded.

"I better get back inside before Jason explodes at me again."

"Yeah he's been a little on edge this deployment. You're just doing you're job and you're pretty damn good at it so don't let Jason get to you okay?"

"Same goes to you, I heard the beating he gave you yesterday."

I shrugged.

"It is what it is. Being a women in this business is not easy."

"Amen to that."

I smiled.

"I'll catch up with you inside."

Lisa nodded and headed inside. I leaned my forearms onto the railing and sighed. Sure I thought Drew was hot and maybe just maybe we had a thing for a minute yesterday on the op but it was over now and I needed to get my head back in the game.

The next few days were spent hitting different targets and working crazy hours only to be sent home with basically nothing accomplished.

I could tell the guys were going stir crazy by how crazy the team group chat had been going off the last few days since we had been back home. I groaned as my phone buzzed again and again on my bedside table.

I pulled my pillow over my ear and groaned even further when I heard a knock on my door. I ignored the first few knocks but whoever was at the door was persistent so I rolled out of bed looked down at my over-sized Navy shirt and shruggred as I walked to the door. It was close to midnight whoever was at the door was getting me in my pyjamas.

"I swear to god if it's Sonny standing behind this door, I'm gonna freaking lose it."

I pulled open the door to my apartment and the last person I was expecting was standing on the other side.

"Drew."

Next thing I knew my back was up against the wall and Drew's lips were on mine. I quickly gained my composure and kissed him back. As much as I wanted this I couldn't do the whole one night stand thing so I pulled away and wiggled out of his grip.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't do this if it's going to be a one night stand thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"I overheard you one morning talking with Sonny and Omar in Thailand and you said one night stands were you're thing, a good fuck and no mixed feelings, but I can't do this not without feelings."

Drew just smirked as he walked over to me.

"Ever since that night in the club, I keep telling myself I don't have feelings but I do. I like you (Y/N). A lot for that matter and I know this is going to be messy but I don't think I'll ever be a one night stand only guy when it comes to you."

Without another thought I smashed my lips against Drew's and wrapped my arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist. Davis' word were somewhere in the back of my mind but right now I could care less.

This felt right, and when something feels this right you don't try and fight it right?

#seal team #seal team imagines #seal team x reader #seal team imagine #drew franklin imagines #drew franklin x reader #drew franklin imagine #drew franklin

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croucify · 5 months ago

Text

✶ STARGIRL — hamzahthefantastic x reader

008 ✶ Act Normal

stargirl masterfile – next – previous

SUMMARY: hamzah has a crush on a youtuber who's always out and about and slushies see their relationship progress on social media! (smau)

DISCLAIMER: reader is a brown haired girl and for some pics that aren't faceless, i'll be using olivia rodrigo cause i love her and she’s filipino like me hehehe

A/N: i'm so sorry this part took a while!!! i was so busy with school and i might also end this series soon. i love u all thank u so much for the support

hamzahthefantastic posted on their story !

days after the party . . .

you and hamzah went on with your day, you could feel something was off with every time you guys spoke.

the two of you were currently in an antique store now, looking at all the trinkets and all the vintage stuff.

hamzah kept thinking about the news from last night's party but tried to keep himself occupied with something else. he looked at the keychains, looking for something to buy martin and mandy.

as he was looking, you went over to where it was.

"are we okay?" you ask out of the blue, a worried look on your face.

he gets nervous a bit but all he wanted to do was wipe the look off your face and hug you. hamzah nods but you sigh.

"is this about the vinnie thing?"

"yeah, sorry, i just thought.... haha whatever." he says before going back to the keychains.

your thoughts feel jumbled up as you watch him act like it's nothing. you've liked him for a while now and you knew from his fans that he felt the same way. did he not just care anymore? did he stop liking you because you went to parties too much?

"just so you know, i don't like him because i like you. i've liked you since we first filmed a video. i don't know how you feel towards me but i sort of had a vibe, so i'm sorry if last night changed things between us."

your voice cracked as you spoke, trying your best to compose yourself and not breakdown infront of him. then, you just leave the antique store and walk around town.

hamzah felt guilty for not telling you how he felt and for being distant the whole day.

you had your arms crossed and your head down as you walked around and suddenly you hear a car honking at you.

you look to the side and you see hamzah in the car you two rented for the trip. shaking your head you continue walking. he puts the car in park and steps out of it.

"i'm sorry." he says loudly since there was a bit of a distance between you two, he sees you stop in your tracks but you don't turn around.

"i should've said something the past days but i just thought you'd get mad at me if i did. i like you too and i'm pretty sure all our friends know that. i just never thought you'd like me too since—well, you're you." you finally turned around to face him, a small smile gracing your face. he could see you slowly walking closer to him and he gets more nervous.

"i don't know... but i'm sorry for taking so long, i was just scared and i–"

you cut him off by pulling him in for a kiss, placing your hands on his cheeks and his hands slowly place themselves on your hips, pulling you closer.

you two chuckle to each other once you pull away.

✶ taglist — @cdbabymp3 @noturbabe22 @dabuggh3 @thatmartinkitten @tumb1rgir1z @mfcherry @ldrvinyl @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @seasidelily @jisyng @brucewayngfreal @beamuah @maybankfr @nickmillersn1gf @ivvees-blog @freak4hamzah @anonymousmay22 @beensleepy @kestisvrse @jastoo46 @ravenn-darkholme

LMK IF U WANNA BE ADDEDDD!!!

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefantastic x reader #savi's works ✶#slushy noobz #hamzah fanfic #savi’s stargirl ✶#hello hamzah!

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bcacstuff · 1 month ago

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It’s the end of an era: Sophie Skelton has starred as Brianna in Starz’s Scottish historical fantasy drama, Outlander, for 10 years. How does she feel about it all coming to an end? Mixed emotions, from the five stages of grief to feeling positive about ending on a high. For us viewers at home, however, there’s still plenty of time to say goodbye: the season 7B finale will air on 17 January 2025, while season 8 is slated to air in the second half of 2025. We sat down with Sophie to hear all about it – plus what the actress will star in next.

Interview: Sophie Skelton

Hi Sophie, how’s life going at the moment?

Good, thank you. I’m still processing 10 years of the end of an era! Caitríona [Balfe] and I have been talking about it for a while, because you go through the five stages of grief a little bit when you finish something like this. It’s such a rare occurrence for TV to go that long, and there’s no manual of how to deal with the end, so I think it was quite a roller coaster of, well, the grief process. But we’re both feeling quite at peace now. I for one feel like I’m in a good place – just winding down for Christmas so I can hit the ground running in 2025!

It’s the end of an era! How did it feel when you kind of got the news that Outlander season eight would be the end?

I think originally season 7 was going to be the end, and I’m just speculating here, but maybe part of the reason they split it into two is because they knew that season 8 was going to come. Maybe they were trying to bridge a gap with the strikes… I don’t know! But I feel like Brianna is in a really good place. I feel like I’ve done everything I can do with that character. She has been through more than most people would go through in multiple lifetimes.

I think it’s always good to tap out while you’re ahead and not to milk something, so hopefully we’re ending on a high. Season 7B is great, but season 8 is honestly the best season – so I think it’s good to leave it there.

Are you all wrapped on season 8, too, then?

Officially, yeah. We were holding on by an emotional thread for a while, because we were sort of finishing, and then there was a second unit going, and then we had press, and then we had reshoots. But we are officially done. I think we’ve all had three wrap days, but the last one was really sweet. Caitríona wrapped and then she came in for my final scene, and then she hugged me, and that made me break down crying. Then she and I went to the next stage over for Sam [Heughan]’s final scene, which was the last one. Then we had a little hug, the three of us, so it was a really nice way to close it off. It felt very peaceful in the end.

How would you describe Outlander season 7b?

For Brianna, honestly, quite lonely. It was an interesting season for me. We shot it about two years ago, so thinking back, I spent a large amount of the time with the kids. As they say, acting with animals and children are the two most challenging bits, and on Outlander we have a plethora of that going on! In terms of storyline, it’s one of the sides of Brianna that I really admire. She’s really come into herself as a mother, and seeing her click into action mode and the lengths she’ll go to to save her children is really admirable. Sometimes when she has to defend herself, she’s not as brazen, but as soon as it’s for someone else, especially her children, we see a side of Brianna that we haven’t seen before.

Rosa Morris (“Mandy”) and Sophie Skelton (“Brianna Fraser MacKenzie”) in Outlander season 7. (Starz)

You’ve played Brianna for a decade now. Is there anything special you do to get into character?

One thing we’re lucky with on Outlander is that the sets are so magnificent and vast. Whether we’re on location or they’ve built a fake village, as soon as you’re on set, you feel halfway into it. It’s the same with me having an American accent and the wig and the clothing – you’re halfway in already, so that does a bit of your prep for you. I know Brianna inside out now, so honestly, it’s quite easy to just stream into set. But to stop myself from coasting, I do research. And there were a lot of things I felt I could channel from my own life into Bri this season, so that helped.

Is there anything in season 7B you’re really excited for people to see?

I really enjoyed the scenes with Chris [Fulton], who plays Rob Cameron. That was a really fun dynamic. And as I say, because I spent a large amount of the second part with the kids, it was nice to have some adult energy. I really like his way of working. He’s quite similar to me in that you just don’t know what you’re going to get, and every take could be completely different. We really bounced off each other, and it kind of felt like being in a play, especially because some of our scenes were quite physical. There are a few more modern day action sequences from Brianna, too, which was a different form of stunts than we’ve done before. So I’m sure people will enjoy a little injection of 80s fight scenes.

Is there anything you can tease about Outlander season 8?

As ever with Outlander, there will be some reunions. There are probably going to be some deaths. The heartstrings are going to be a little bit torn… One of the most exciting things about it is that you’ve got so many old and new faces back. It just feels like a really big ensemble, and I think that that’s such a magnificent way to go out. It’s like a big bang.

Any standout moments from rehearsals or filming?

It’s quite rare that a lot of us get to do scenes together, so the dinner scenes where we have a large amount of the principal cast together are really fun. It always feels quite sentimental because they’re rare, and we never know if that’s going to be the last one. That wasn’t necessarily different, but season 8 had the extra layer of upcoming loss. But they’re always just lovely because Outlander is heavy, you know! We work in really tough weather conditions. We do long hours, we do long weeks, and we’re pretty much just in the dark, wind and rain of Scotland all the time. So when we get these indoor scenes where it’s really intimate, there’s candles, it’s all of us together, they’re really fond moments. It feels like you can really just relax and enjoy the day a little bit more, as opposed to battling all the elements constantly.

Are there any locations from filming that have stood out as a favorite, or anything that you would go back to in your own time?

The Clava Cairns are so beautiful. When you go there, honestly, it sounds quite corny, but you can feel the weight of the land. The air is dense. Not in a heavy way, but you can almost feel the energy of the history there. And the land is just so quiet. There’s always a beautiful moon or a beautiful sunrise. We actually had one scene there where the moon looked too fake. The real moon looked too fake! They had to blot it out and put a fake moon in, because they were like, ‘no one will believe this is real’. It’s always windy and icy cold and it’s brutal, but it’s absolutely stunning. Especially when we do night shoots there, the calm and the quiet and the stars… It’s just surreal.

Outlander is coming to an end, but the universe is going to continue in a different series. Are you excited to watch it? How did you feel about that when you heard the news?

It’s a funny thing with the prequel coming out, because we were on our final season when they filmed, so it was very different energies, having the two side by side. They’re all coming in fresh, whereas we’ve done 10 years of this. We want to make sure that we see it through and do it justice. We really wanted to make sure that our attention wasn’t split, so I don’t know too much about the prequel.

I know that there are rumors of some other spin off series, too, and I know Diana might have written some other spin off books. It’s one of the biggest shows in the world, so I’m sure that those series will do super well. It’ll be exciting to see if there are any mini Briannas that spin off. It would be very interesting to see who takes her over at some point.

Sophie Skelton (“Brianna Fraser MacKenzie”) in Outlander season 7. (Starz)

Looking at future projects, are there any genres you’re craving?

It’s not necessarily about genre for me; I think it’s more that I’m looking for completely different characters. A different accent, a completely different time period for a while, let’s get rid of the corset for a bit! But honestly, loads of different things. I started in musical theater on stage, so to do something in that realm would be amazing. I also love really gritty dramas – psychological stuff. Something like Black Swan would be the perfect merge of everything.

Have any of your other projects stood out to you as a career highlight?

I just finished quite a tricky shoot during the strike, a small independent movie called Row. It’s about the first team crossing the Atlantic Ocean, and semi based on a true story before it goes a lot more thriller-y. I’m playing this blonde hippie-ish girl from Surrey and filming was going to be in Malta, so I was like, ‘Yeah, cool, this is different to Outlander. Different accent, I’m on a boat in the middle of nowhere, but it’s Malta, great!’ There’s one scene where she’s in a bikini on the boat. Sounds fantastic! Then a couple of weeks before shooting, they said, ‘because of the strikes and everything else, we’re actually going to film it in John o’ Groats’ – which is pretty much the most northerly part of the UK. We had super bad weather – 100 mile per hour winds – so we had to stop shooting a lot and we got behind. We were just on a rowing boat in the middle of a water tank right next to the ocean on a cliff. It was intense. But honestly, I think the film is going to be beautiful. It looks really gritty. It’s so fun to play something different. I’m excited to see it.

Who has been your favourite actor to work with in the past?

I worked with Nick Cage ages ago, which was great. He was so lovely to me; that was a good shoot. On Outlander, working with Tobias Menzies was amazing. It was great to work with quite a lot of seasoned actors like Maria Doyle Kennedy, too.

Which co-star did you learn the most from?

Caitríona is amazing. She knows how to fight for her cast and crew, she will make sure that everyone’s looked after. There’s often a lot of hierarchy in TV and film. She’s number one, and she could easily stomp that around, but she doesn’t. She puts everybody on a level playing field and treats everyone the same. I really respect that.

Do you have a dream role?

I love biopics. I love going down a rabbit hole of research and having to perfect little tics that the real person has. I was thinking about La Vie en Rose the other day, the Edith Black one with Marion Cotillard. Something along that route would be really cool. And hey, if there’s ever an Audrey Hepburn biopic, I would love to do that.

Who is a writer or director you’d love to work with?

Jesse Armstong and the Duffer Brothers. I think their writing is just so smart. It flows beautifully, and it’s just so gritty.

How do you find balance in your personal and work lives?

Not sure if I’ve mastered that yet! I’ve always been a very hard worker. Even as a kid, I’d be in ballet every day, and 1000 hobbies. I’ve always managed to fit more in a day than most people. I’m not very good if I’m not busy, so I am trying to manage the shut off between the two now by writing music, doing art and playing piano.

How can we all live a little bit better?

Do small acts of self care for yourself all the time. Someone said it to me recently, and I hadn’t really realised it was a thing. They were like, ‘you’re very good at doing little things that set you up for success for your future self’. It sounds so silly, but it’s the smallest things, like putting stuff away the night before so you don’t wake up to a dirty kitchen in the morning, or just biting the bullet sometimes because you know that it’s going to matter more to your future self than it might do now. Small acts of kindness to yourself. Career wise, it’s so easy now to look on Instagram, for example, compare yourself and just feel shit, frankly. I just have this daily reminder: put on your blinkers and win your own race.

Sophie Skelton Recommends…

I’m currently watching… Shrinking

What I’m reading… The Best Minds by Jonathan Rosen

The last thing I watched (and loved) was… Poor Things

What I’m most looking forward to seeing… Gladiator II and Conclave

Favourite film of all time… Good Will Hunting and Uptown Girls

Band/singer I always have on repeat… Taylor Swift

My ultimate cultural recommendation… Talking to different cultures about how they celebrate the festive season.

Cultural guilty pleasure… Going to the pub for a roast every Sunday – the bottle of red with it is the guilty part!

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storm-angel989 · 5 months ago

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Vox and Val don't know how to hold babies. They get handed their newborn to get some bonding in and they're all "ok what now? I just hold it? Where do I put my hands?" Until Auntie Velvette gets sick of their bullshit and physically rearranges them into a proper baby holding position because "you don't have to hold them out so far away from you, they're not contagious" and "anything they have, you're gonna catch real soon anyway"

Ok that's my contribution for today

Hi friend,

Oh I love this idea! My biggest struggle with this one was “where do Vox and Velvette and Valentino get a baby?” (because there is no baby store, let's be real) so it took me a while to chew on what I think is an entertaining situation. I hope you enjoy it!

<3 Mandy

Valentino didn’t hold babies. Not in life. And certainly not in death. In fact, he didn’t think the idea of children had ever been discussed in his relationship with Vox and Velvette. And when his phone rang and Asmodeus' voice called him, Vox and Velvette to his restaurant in the lust ring, the last thing he was thinking about was kids.

“What does Ozzy want with the three of us?” Velvette asked as she watched the rolling hills of fire pass by as they jumped from ring to ring.

“Fuck if I know,” Valentino replied as he took a drink of wine. “Any idea, Voxxy?”

“No,” Vox replied without looking up from his phone.

Velvette sighed in annoyance. “Well you two fuckers are no help.”

Both ignored her. Several minutes later, the limo pulled up outside one of the biggest restaurants in all of hell. As soon as they stepped out of the limo, they were escorted back to Asmodeous’s office.

“Who's a sweet little baby? Yes you are, yes you are!” Asmodeous’s voice floated out from behind his office doors.

“Huh, didn’t expect him to have a caretaker kink,” Vox muttered. “Hey, ow!”

Valentino elbowed him, hard and gave him a writhing look.

“We don’t judge,” he said sharply. “Especially not Oz.”

“Judge what? Huh?” Fizzeroi’s voice floated as the doors opened. “Come in, dumb little…”

“Alright, that’s enough Fizz, calm down, you’ll scare the baby,” Ozzy said firmly. “Come in you three.”

The V’s exchanged glances but stepped inside. Of all of the sighs they expected to greet him, Asmodeous holding a tiny pink blanket wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list. Hell, for that matter, it wasn’t even on the list.

“Congraduation’s Valentino, you’re a father,” Asmodeous said as he stood up.

Vox and Velvette stared at Valentino in disbelief.

“That isn’t possible,” Valentino argued. “I always use protection, I…”

Azmedous stood up and walked across the room.

“In nineteen seventy three you made a deposit to a sperm bank. Upon your arrival in hell, our agents were supposed to destroy every single source of your DNA on Earth. It appears someone fucked up I mean…uhn…” he looked down at the baby, “made a mistake. This little girl is a product of that. And with her mother in heaven, she’s yours.”

“Wait, her mom died? Who was she?” Valentino demanded, taking a step back away from Asmodeus.

“She did. And went to heaven. But as you know, unbaptized babies?” Asmodeous made a slashing motion across his throat. “Not welcome upstairs. And upon this little one’s arrival, I went myself and personally destroyed the rest of the vial. But there is no mistaking, she’s yours. And by the contract you signed, she’s your responsibility, just like any other child who falls who has parents in hell. And I know you want to honor your contract.”

Asmeodous’s normally lighthearted voice dropped to a dangerously low tone. The fire that surrounded him perked up, and even Fizzeroli jumped from his shoulders.

“Give me,” Velvette said quickly, stepping forward.

Asmodeous shot Valentino and Vox a look, but carefully handed her the tiny pink bundle.

“We’ll take her,” she declared firmly. “Valentino will honor his contract. Do you have a diaper bag, or formula or anything?”

Instantly, Asmodeous relaxed. From beneath the desk, he pulled out a pink bag and dropped it at Valentino’s feet.

“I put a sleep spell on her, so she should stay down the entire way home,” he told them. “But she’s going to be hungry when she wakes up. Formula is in the bag, along with diapers and a few extra things.”

“Great,” Velvette said as she looked at the pink bag with distaste. “We’ll get a more stylish one in time, come on boys.” With those words, Velvette turned and walked confidently out the door.

“Do you think they have any idea of what they’re doing?” Fizzeroli muttered as he watched the retreating figures.

Asmodous shrugged. “We’ll check on it in a few days. Make sure Valentino truly does uphold his end of the contract.”

Back in the limo, Velvette carefully cradled the newborn to her chest.

“There should be a carseat,” she declared. “Vox, get out your phone. Make a list of the things we’re going to need to keep this thing alive.”

Valentino and Vox stared at her.

“What? It’s either keep it alive, or Valentino breaks his contract and Asmodeus…”

“Yeah, no I get that,” Vox interrupted. “But we, I really never took you for the motherly type.”

“Oh fuck you, I’m motherly,” Velvette snapped. “Now get the phone out and start making a list.”

By the time they arrived back at the penthouse, the spare bedroom had been transformed into a workable nursery.

“It’s basic, but I can do the design later,” Velvette told them as he looked around.

In her arms, the baby began to fuss as she opened her eyes.

“She’s probably hungry,” Velvette said to them as she turned and walked out to the kitchen. “One of you, hold her while I make a bottle.”

Both stared at her in confusion.

“No, I’ll hurt her,” Valentino confessed finally. “She’s so tiny.”

“Yeah, no. How do I hold it? What do I do?” Vox asked.

Velvette rolled her eyes. “You, Vox, look it up. Valentino, it came from you. So you, sit down on the couch. Vox, take notes.”

Valentino obediently sat down on the couch. Carefully, Velvette placed the baby in his arms and Valentino held the child out at arms length.

“No, no not like that. Closer. She isn’t a disease, you won’t catch anything from her,” Velvette admonished. “And if she gets sick, we’re all getting it anyway, so buckle up buttercup.”

Velvette watched as he slowly inched his arms closer. Annoyance flooded through her.

“No, you know what? Unbutton your shirt,” she snapped as she snatched the baby back.

“Fuck you, no,” Valentino retorted. “That has nothing…I’m not…no!”

“Actually, she’s right, it’s called skin to skin,” Vox interrupted as he looked up from his phone, “we should all probably do it. It helps…with their vitals and stuff. Body temperature and heartbeat regulation. Helps them thrive.”

“And I’m pretty sure if this thing dies, Asmodous will consider it a violation of your contract in some way and kill you as well,” Velvette added.

Hesitantly, Valenitno undid his jacket and unbuttoned his black shirt. Carefully, Velvette positioned his hand under the little girl and laid her against his chest. To his surprise, it felt good- natural, almost. Carefully, he leaned back and settled the child comfortably against him.

“Good. Now don’t be alarmed if she cried,” Velvette warned. “She’s got to be hungry.”

As quickly as she could, she hurried off into the kitchen. As quickly as she could, she mixed a bottle and brought it back to Valentino.

“Here, you feed her, Vox,” she directed.

“Oh hell no, it ain’t my kid,” Vox protested.

“We’re in this together, right? Otherwise the empire crumbles,” Velvette said firmly.

The look on Vox’s face told Velvette she had won. She watched as he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Fine, I’m ready,” he said reluctantly.

Carefully, Valentino handed the baby to Vox and Velvette adjusted his arms so the baby was in the correct position. She watched as he gently pressed the bottle to her lips and to Velvette’s relief, she instantly took to it.

“She is kind of cute,” Vox admitted as she suckled frantically. “Are you hungry, little girl? She needs a name, right?”

“Let’s call her Reader,” Valentino suggested. “It was…well, it doesn’t matter. I’m her dad, I get to name her, right Velvette?”

“Reader,” Velvette said slowly. “Yeah. I like it.” With a swish of her skirt, she turned away. “I’m going to make some design notes for the nursery. Yell for me when she’s done eating, she’ll need to be burped.”

“Great,” Vox muttered as he looked at Valentino. “That ones on you.”

“We’ll all be doing it,” Velvette yelled over her shoulders. “She’s a member of this family, we take care of each other. Period.”

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kbagraces · 1 month ago

Text

No Time to Die LN4

Lando Norris Mafia/Gang AU

As much as we try to suppress the stigma, strong women will continue to be perceived as intimidating until you learn to love us.

PART 4 Reflections

My vision and hearing was in and out the whole journey to Lando's hide out flat in London. My body was slumped across the back seats of his car, my head resting in Mandi's lap, her delicately moving hair out of the concerning gash on my head and then holding her jacket back on the wound. I felt like i was under water, i could hear talking from the front of the car but not words. Mandi didnt utter a sentence.

I felt the car stop and i was lifted out of the car. The cold midnight air stung, i could finally make out what they were saying, Mandi demanding, "Careful. Careful. Would you be careful!"

That means that Lando was carrying me, another thing he can hold over my head. Brilliant.

"I am being fucking careful." His voice rattled against my body. I wanted to snap, no one talks to my best friend like that. But once again it came out as a groan and a huff.

I was lowered down, i'm unsure whether its a bed or a sofa, but its soft as hell either way. My bpdy is drifting off again, im either passing out or falling asleep but this time i dont care to fight it.

I wake up alone, the sun peaking through the blind. A duvet drapped over the bottom half of my body. I'm in the most baggy joggers and an even baggier t shirt. I'm sure these aren't clothes myself or Mandi packed.

My head stinging, i raise my hand to touch my injury, jagged stitches across where the gaping wound once was. The amateur skills screamed that it was the work of Mandi, having stitched up a few of my wounds in her time, but at the end of the day shes not a professional

I lift myself out of the bed, another vampire like room in front of me dark walls dark furniture is this man allergic to colour?

Walking, or more like waddling, out of the room i attempt to gain some balance. I walk down the hall to the kitchen gasping for water.

I turn around glass in hand to spot Lando's body stretched out over to sofa, legs hanging off the end. He's on his phone scrawling through whatever nonsense is on there.

"Morning." I announce, theres no way he didnt hear me come in.

"Morning, how's my favourite liability!" He attempts to joke, looking up from his phone. His eyes taking in my obvious dishevelled appearance and body clad in what i've deduced to be his clothes.

"I'm going to pray that it wasnt you that dressed me in your clothes?"

He grins, a huff coming from his nose as he sits up , eaning foreward, elbows on knees. "I should be so lucky."

"Excuse me?"

He ignores my question, "Mandi both bathed and dressed you, i just left the clothes on my bed. Your shit was in my car and i couldnt be bothered to get them."

I hummed in response, sitting down at the island. My fingers rotating over the top of the glass, feeling slightly awkward due to his eyes not once leaving me.

"Where is Mandi?"

"Her and Nat went to service the car, get her filled up, tires changed... cleaned."

Odd how it wasn't him and Nat, odd that Mandi also thought it was a good idea to leave me here, shes up to something.

"How long will they be? I want my clothes."

"They'll be back soon."

"You've got a real starring problem you know that." I feel uncomfortable being so judged? Admired? I cant tell which.

"So ive been told."

"Good to know you make all women uncomfortable and its not solely reserved for me."

He gets up from his seat, now leaning opposite me across the island in the kitchen. His irritating, signature smirk painted on his mouth.

"I make you uncomfortable?" His mouth now feigns a mocking pout, "Do i make you nervous too?"

I scoff, unfolding my arms, imitating his stance and leaning across the table, a few inches between our faces and hands nearly touching, "no one makes me nervous."

There was a thick tension in the air, neither of us willing to move. There was a twinge in his eyes, ones that usually are blank with zero emotion are now twinkling with what i assume is resentment mixed with a little bit of lust.

"Morning!!" Natalie beams in her usually sunny voice. Honestly, how someone so doom and gloom as Lando made such good friends with such a ray of sunshine ill never know.

Lando's body stands tall and rigid once hes aware of their presence. Neither of us sure how long they'd been there. His eyes blank once again, although certainly embarrassed that he was caught off guard.

I catch a glance between him and Natalie before he shakes his head.

"Nice outfit." Mandi cackles, mockery laced in her tone.

Lando, serious as ever claps his hands together, "now we have the car can we all get ready and get this shit show on the road. You have 10 minutes meet back here and we'll get a plan together."

Natalie and Mandi leave to what i assume are their individual rooms. I head over to the front door retrivbeing my bag which mandi brought in.

"I won" i said as i brushed past Lando.

I'll have no man try and intimidate me or even worse believe they have a hold over me!

We all enter the kitchen once more. Taking a seat around this cursed table.

"So we have ordered a plane from Dover straight to Barcelona, there one of my drivers will take us to a safe house to sort who's going where and doing what." His eyes scan us, ensuring that were listening. Lingering on me before continuing.

"Nat, you're driving to Dover. I am going to tap into Ferrari and Keegans data to see what their plans are they seem like they are biggest threats as of right now. Mandi, you can sit there and look pretty and y/n you can attempt to do that too." He laughs at his own joke, a little too hard. Asshole.

We all head to the front door, Mandi grabs my arm pulling me back to walk at her pace.

"You know you can cut the sexual tension with a knife between you two" Her eyebrows quivering up and down suggestively.

"Are you kidding?"

"Not at all, youve got the big bad Lando Norris wrapped around your little finger. Turn on the y/n charm, I beg of you! Make this trip interesting."

"As if running away from your brother who took over of you old gang isnt interesting." She can't be serious right now. Surely?

We hang back at the front door, out of earshot as they load upo the car.

"Come on he fancies you, you fancies him, why don-"

I raise my hand to her face in rejcetion, covering up her mouth.

"Firstly, shut the fuck up. Secondly i do not fancy him."

"You so do"

"Do fucking not."

She rolls her eyes "okay okay you don't."

We make our way to the car, Nat revving it in impatience. As Mandi opens her door, she whispers, but loud enough for me to hear,

"You so do."

#lando norris #f1 #ln4 #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris mafia au #lando norris gang au

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