#and once i have a job again and my own fun money?! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 6 months ago

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“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison

Allison:

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

12K notes · View notes

mountainsandmayhem · 27 days ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 8

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. WC: 5.5k TW: I will put them below the cut for those who want to avoid spoilers. This is more of an original character, there have been some descriptions of reader throughout the series. A/N: How can I make a note when I have words?! I'm just so grateful for how many people have fallen in love with this story this year. It's crazy to me that I posted my first fan pic on December 23rd 2023, expecting about 3 people to see it and waking up to 100's of notifications. 2024 has literally been whirlwind, I've made so many wonderful ladies here and have grown more and more confident in my writing abilities. Thank you @lotusbxtch for being my forever beta for this series (probably an unhealthy crutch, but so be it haha). Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for letting me bounce ideas off of you and giving me a new insight to how sweet girl or Joel would think. @mermaidgirl30, @alltheirdamn and @littlevenicebitch69, what would I do if I couldn't scream about this story with you?! Ok eww, I'm done being sappy. Enjoy! Dividers and headers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: use of sex toys (vibrator and butt plug)

You

When you walked into your small apartment on Sunday, Odette was wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. She looked you up and down with a knowing smirk. It was pretty obvious based on the way Joel’s sweats and hoodie hung off your body that you were with a man all weekend. So, after she agreed to keep it between the two of you, you told her absolutely everything. It was freeing to finally be able to discuss Joel with one of your friends. The two of you spent almost six hours going over every detail of the last few weeks, and after ordering pizza and splitting a bottle of rosé, you had all the validation you needed. He loves you. And you love him, too.

As the weekend rolls into the week, you still have not come down from your happy, little Joel Miller-shaped cloud. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he is it. You have never let your walls down with someone like you have with him. It was always easier to just do it on your own; you could always count on yourself. For the first time in your life, you can confidently say that you’re ready to let that go. It’s time for you to let someone take care of you for once. When he texts you on Monday to make plans for the following day, you decide that you’re going to tell him how you feel.

When Tuesday finally comes around, you practically skip up to his house. You have a duffle bag of items in one hand: your outfit for this evening, make up, and a change of clothes in case you spend the night. Wearing his clothing home was fun and all, but you won’t be doing any sort of walks of shame again. Clasped tightly your other hand is your company-provided caddy full of cleaning supplies. Just as you’re about to place the supplies on the front step, the large front door opens.

“Hi, Freckles,” Joel's voice coats every inch of your skin in warm honey. He shines an absolutely knee-weakening smile down at you. As per his usual JMKink attire, he’s in perfectly fitted black dress pants, expensive looking black dress shoes, and a pressed, crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and your mouth waters at the way his bare forearms look.

“Hi,” you beam up at him, not holding back your ear-to-ear grin as you glow under his attention. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“I have to leave soon, but I have something for you.” He steps out onto the front steps and grabs everything from you before you follow him inside. You change into the white keds that Jamie gave you on your first day at Maid Discreetly before heading towards where he’s standing in the kitchen. There are three boxes on the kitchen island; two small black ones and one white one that you recognize immediately. He pushes that one towards you first.

“This is your new iPhone,” he says with a wink and you feel your cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” you say shyly.

He shakes his head, “No, thank you for not fighting me on this. That cracked screen...”

“I know,” you say, raising a hand to stop him. You deepen your voice, “It’s a hazard, sweet girl.”

He laughs like he did that night at the Shibari class, deep and from his gut; it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and your heart swells at the possibility of getting to hear that laugh for the rest of your life. “Exactly. These other boxes…well, they’re for you, but also for me.”

You raise your eyebrows curiously as he slides the smaller of the two black boxes across the smooth marble of the island. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as you pull the top off of the first box. Sitting on a bed of white tissue paper is a small metal plug with a pink heart-shaped diamond on the end.

“Mister Miller! Scandalous!” You gasp, feigning shock and surprise.

He laughs again as he asks, “Is that ok?”

“Very much so,” you respond with a smile before opening the next box, which is slightly bigger than the last. A black, U shaped piece of silicone sits in the box, along with a small plastic rectangle that looks similar to a key fob. “What’s this?”

“That, my sweet girl, is a remote vibrator. I was thinking that maybe you could wear both of those while you clean my house today. I can control that with the remote from a close distance or from my phone anywhere in the world.”

Every hair on your body stands on end as your clit throbs in excitement. “Yes, I would really, really like to do that!”

“Good girl,” he says with a wink, holding a hand out to you. His fingers link with yours and just the slightest touch from him sends sparks up your wrist and straight to your racing heart. He grabs your new toys and leads you up the stairs. Your giggle is laced with arousal when you come to a stop in his enormous ensuite. After placing the toys on the counter he pulls you in, his free hand cupping the back of your neck before he slams his lips into yours. He kisses you hungrily, and you meet his energy, kissing him back as if you’re drunk with passion. His teeth nip your bottom lip as he pulls away. You’re so insanely, maddeningly in love with this man that you almost forget how to stand as he steps back.

“Take off your pants, sweet girl.”

You do as he says, eagerly unbuttoning your company issued black dress pants before sliding them down your legs. He stops you before you remove your thong, breathing out a heady ‘fuck’ before hooking his thumbs through the bright pink lacy waist band and sliding them down your legs.

“Put your hands on the vanity and bend over for me,” he instructs with bated breath. He watches your reflection in the mirror, looking right into your soul as always, as you follow his instructions.

You smile lovingly at him, clocking the way his throat works as he swallows hard at the sight of you bending at the waist, pushing your ass out for him. “Fuck, how did I get so lucky? All of this, just for me?”

“Just you, Joel,” you breathe, slipping your bottom lip between your teeth.

He slides open a drawer and takes out two small bottles before turning on the water. He pops the top of one bottle, using the contents to wash both toys, then steps back behind you with the second bottle in and the plug in his hands. A warm laugh leaves your lips, “Always so prepared, Mister Miller.”

“With a pretty little thing like you in my life, I better be.” He clicks the top of the lube open as he continues, “Ready? I’ll go slow.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you coo, your body thrumming with the anticipation of his touch.

“I know you will. No safeword right now, okay? Just say stop, and I will.” He spreads the lube around your tight ring of muscle with his thumb. Every muscle in your body goes slack under his attention and you sigh as your lashes flutter against your cheeks. “Good girl, just relax for me.”

After a few minutes of teasing you with the pad of his thumb he switches to the plug. The cold metal makes you jump. He reassures you by squeezing your hip as he murmurs, “You’re ok, baby.”

He swirls it gently at first, slowly applying more and more pressure before it slips in on its own and you whimper at the feeling. “Does that feel okay, sweet girl?”

“Mmm, yes,” you smile at his reflection in front of you. The amber glow of the LED lighting behind the mirror accentuates the honey flecks in his eyes. Everything about the way he’s looking at you feels overwhelming. It’s like when you first step foot into a hot tub on a cold winter's night. The sting of the swirling water is almost too hot as you sink further in. For a second you consider getting out, but then every single cell in your body adjusts and you can’t imagine not being wrapped in that heat.

“Now this one,” he says, holding up the black u-shaped vibrator. He adds a bit of lube and then guides your hips further back with one hand before kneeling. Your pussy clenches against nothing as you glance over your shoulder seeing him on his knees behind you. He practically whimpers, “God, Freckles, this pussy. She’s so gorgeous.”

A shy smile turns your lips upward. Joel starts to work the toy inside of you and you gasp out a moan. He moves the bulbous head of the toy back and forth until it slips in on its own accord, just like the plug did. Your breathing quickens at the pressure on your g-spot and clit; the toy isn’t even on yet and it already feels so good. Joel’s lips sponge against the globes of your ass, then your hip as he stands. “Are you ok, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you respond, your breath catching in your throat as you stand.

“Good. Now put your clothes back on and get to work.”

Before you can bend to pick up your discarded clothing, he pulls you into his arms and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is so soft that it steals your breath, and you almost blurt your feelings for him right then and there. He keeps one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other snakes up your body until his large palm cups the side of your face. This kiss, compared to the one from earlier, is different in every way. Where that one was rough and passionate, this one is gentle and almost lazy; a content moan rumbles from his chest. Before pulling away, his warm tongue swipes sweetly across yours.

“See you later, honey,” he whispers, then kisses your forehead and walks away.

Honey, he called me honey. Everything about the last few seconds feels so goddamn domestic, and your potential life five years from now flashes through your mind.

You're standing in this bathroom, getting ready to head to the law firm you work at. Joel, no longer just your dom but also now your new husband, puts a fresh latte on the counter for you, then helps you with the clasp of your necklace before kissing that sensitive spot behind your ear. ‘See you later, honey’.

The rev of Joel’s Jag pulling out of the garage snaps you out of your daydream. You get dressed and walk back downstairs while opening the Maid Discreetly app. To your surprise, cleaning Joel’s office isn’t the first task. Instead, you’ve been asked to wipe down the kitchen, then vacuum the main floor, stairs and upstairs rooms, and finish off by dusting his bedroom. All of it seems very doable in the next four hours, and just when you think you’ll probably be done early and have time to properly get ready for your night out, Mister Miller reminds you that he has the remote to a very distracting detonator.

The first few times the vibrator comes on it’s subtle, just a light buzzing against your clit. It’s enjoyable, almost like a tickling massage, but after almost an hour and half of being gently teased at random you can feel your frustrations start to reach a boiling point.

You: Mister Miller, you’re torturing me Joel: Oh, sweet girl. We’ve only just begun. You: *pouts* Joel: That’s not going to get you what you want. Be a good girl and get back to work. I have a meeting.

You check off the kitchen and main floor tasks and then move to the stairs. You decide to start at the top, sitting on the stair below it and scoot down to save your back. You’re also hoping that the pressure on the toy will make it strong enough that you can finally come. Joel turns the vibrator on again and you whine out in frustration when your plan fails. The slight hum against your clit stops and you mutter something about Joel being a sadistic bastard under your breath and continue your backwards ride down the stairs. As you reach the halfway point the vibrator comes to life at an intensity so strong that you drop the hose of the vacuum and dig your nails into the plush carpet of the stair tread.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, squeezeing your legs together as he brings you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds quickly, and just as it’s about to take you, the vibrations stop.

Joel: You better not have come You: Please, Mister Miller. I was so close Joel: Not yet, babygirl

Joel continues this throughout the afternoon. Every ten minutes or so, the black u-shaped torture device inside of you comes to life; always at different intensities and for varying times.

Torture device might be a bit strong, the discarded box of feelings says from the back of your mind. We both know you’re enjoying it. You don’t know when she decided to come back, but at least she’s keeping you honest.

It’s been about three hours by the time you get to your last task of the day. The vibrator buzzes gently as you grab a duster and head into Joel's bedroom. You bite back a smile seeing his bed, the white fluffy sheets neatly tucked in. You can’t help but run your fingers across the soft duvet, remembering how it felt against your skin, remembering how he felt above, behind, below and beside your naked body.

Joel: You doing ok? Do you need to use your safeword? You: I’m okay, Mister Miller. I REALLY need to come, but this is the best day I’ve ever had at work.

When 3:30pm hits, you’ve finished everything in the app, and are so wound up from being teased that you’re fighting from taking the vibrator out and making yourself come. Everytime the vibrator comes on, you break out in goosebumps, the hair on your body standing on end, but when he turns it off, your cheeks flush in frustration and a wave of heat rolls through you. You know Joel will take care of you when he gets home and sees how badly you need it. He talks a big game, but you see the way he folds when you beg.

Joel: I’ll be home in about 40 minutes, Tommy won’t shut up about concrete. You: I need to come so badly, Mister Miller. I’m throbbing, please! Joel: Soon. Just breathe, sweet girl. You can do this.

You need to distract yourself, and you know Joel’s office usually gets pretty dusty, so even though it’s not on your list, you grab your cleaning supplies and slowly open the door. It’s as it usually is: small piles of papers on the desk and a few things out of place on the book shelf. You put the books back and dust the shelves, then run the duster over the blinds before cleaning the window.

Joel: Goddamn, he’s still going on about fucking concrete. How’s my baby doin? You: Horny, I’m trying to distract myself

The vibrator comes to life at the lowest setting. Once again, it’s not enough to make you come, just enough to tease and taunt. You could cry at the frustration of it.

You: That’s not helping, Mister Miller Joel: What’s not? You: Hilarious. Please? Joel: Nope. I love watching you come, hearing the whiny little gasps you make, so not until later

You move towards the desk. Just as you reach to tidy the stack of papers, the vibrations against your clit hit at an intensity you haven’t felt yet today. You fall forward, gasping for breath, as the papers scatter to the floor. You’re about to fall into the pleasure, feel those waves of nirvana that you so desperately need when the vibrator turns off and you’re left with nothing. You bite back an agitated yell.

Joel: See you in less than half an hour, sweet girl. You better not have come. You: I didn’t. I promise.

You’ve never read anything on Joel’s desk before, but you notice a familiar emblem on the first piece of paper you pick up. It’s a short, handwritten note, and as your eyes scan the few sentences, your heart leaps into your throat as your stomach simultaneously falls to the floor. You read through it once and then twice, trying to make sense of the information in front of you. After blinking hard a few times, you read it again.

You feel like you’re being ripped in two.

Joel, Thank you for your generous (and anonymous) donation to the law library. I’ll be sure to find her application and review it myself. See you at the club's anniversary party in a few weeks.

You flip the note over and back again, reading it through one last time. It’s not signed by anyone, just black ink on eggshell white, the University of Austin letterhead at the top. The letter and the room start to spin. You stumble towards his desk chair and breathe through the wave of nausea that hits you; your mind reels at what you’ve just learned. Anger, disbelief and sadness all push against your prefrontal cortex, fighting to be the winning emotion. You want it to be anger – anger is so much easier to deal with. Yelling and telling Joel to fuck off would make you feel so much better, but overwhelming sadness and disappointment ultimately become the victors.

He doesn’t believe in me.

The realization feels like knives along your skin. Everything he said about how you could do it, or that you’d get in…that was all bullshit. He paid for you to get in, and then – and this is the part that hurts the most – he made you believe that you did it all on your own. Your lungs feel like they’re filled with glass as you force yourself to take slow, controlled breaths.

He doesn’t believe in me.

Tears prickle behind your eyes but you force them back. You will not cry, not when you’ve been through this before and came out stronger. Your parents didn’t believe in you, and you proved them wrong, graduating early and making it on your own in Texas for the last four years.

I can prove Joel wrong, too.

You shut your eyes tight. You don’t need him; you don’t need anyone. But if that’s true, why does his sexy smirk flash behind your eyelids? The glass moves from your lungs to your veins; everything hurts, and you scold yourself for letting him get this intertwined in you.

Never again, you tell yourself. Stick to your plan. Law school. Get in with a good firm, pass the bar and become partner; then worry about a love life.

You walk to his bedroom, removing the toys and cleaning them off before changing into the black leggings and beige crew neck sweater you brought. You gather your hair into a claw clip and head downstairs. With your bag by the door and the letter still clutched in your hand you lean back against the kitchen island and wait for Joel.

He doesn’t believe in me.

Joel

The drive home feels like it takes forever; granted, Tommy talking about fucking concrete for almost an hour felt longer. At dinner tonight, he’s going to explain from the beginning. He prepares himself for the worst, for your anger or hurt. He won’t be able to live with himself if he’s hurt you, but anger he can deal with. He knows it’s selfish, but you yelling at him over this would make him feel better.

Finally, he turns into his neighborhood. The sight of your slightly rusty SUV parked on the street spreads a familiar warmth from his heart to his toes. Mine, he thinks to himself as he pulls into his garage. He knows you’re going to be so tightly wound from all the teasing you endured today, and he plans to very slowly unwind you before you go for dinner. The way you fall apart for him is so beautiful, and after almost four hours of being brought to the edge over and over again, he can’t wait to have your writhing and shaking with a simple flick of his tongue against your clit. But first, he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin while occasionally clicking the vibrator on at its lowest setting. He almost trips over your bag as he comes into the house, and when his eyes meet yours, he knows something is wrong.

“Baby?” His voice cracks in concern at the look on your face. He mentally runs through the rolodex of facial expressions he’s seen from you, and he hates that he can’t place this one; it’s not anger or sadness, and it most definitely is not excitement or curiosity. Your soft lips are turned down in the corners, arms crossed and eyes soft. “What’s wrong?”

Your arms uncross and you hold out the letter he should have shredded weeks ago.

His stomach does a free fall. Disappointment. The look on your face is disappointment, and that is so much worse than anger or sadness.

Fuck.

You

Joel walks towards you with slow, measured steps while carding a nervous hand through his curls. You force yourself to continue breathing, fighting against the tears that threaten to appear. He takes the letter from you and rips it in half; you drop your eyes, watching as the two halves of paper flutter to the ground and then slide away from each other along the marble. You shake your head at the symbolism of it, hugging your arms tightly against your body again.

“I thought you believed in me,” you say, trying not to sound as gutted as you feel.

“I do, sweet girl,” he says, stepping so close that his black leather dress shoes line up with your socked feet. You look up as he continues, “I swear I do. You - you got in on your own. Please, just let me explain.”

His eyes line with tears and moments that you overlooked over the last few weeks playback like a movie. The first day in this kitchen he said he knew the dean of admissions. The flash of anger when you went to the Shibari night and his response of “all of them?” when you said you didn’t get in. The way he insisted you open the letters before the anniversary party. He knew, he fucking knew all along that at least one university would accept you. Dread settles in your stomach, turning the shards of glass under your skin to icicles. Berkeley.

“Did you pay off Berkeley, too?”

“I didn’t pay anyone off.” He’s calm but firm in his response, which just seems to piss you off more.

You roll your eyes, gesturing to the ripped paper on the floor and scoff. “Did you pay off Berkeley, Joel?”

The two of you stare at each other for a few heartbeats, and you don’t back down as more tears gather along his bottom lash line. He shakes his head in defeat, burying his hands in his pockets and breathing slowly a few times before whispering, “No.”

“Why would you do this to me? This could have ruined my entire career.” You try to keep your voice calm, but how dare he stand in front of you holding back tears.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I wasn’t - I just…I’m sorry,” he flounders.

“Why, Joel?” Your eyes dance along his face. You aren’t sure what justification you're looking for or hoping for. The dream of staying here died the moment you picked up that note, but you can’t go to California without knowing why he did it.

He opens his mouth, shaking his head slightly and then closes his mouth. He takes a deep breath through his nose, blinking away the tears. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Freckles. I should have told you, I was going to tell you tonight. That donation isn’t the reason you got in…you did that on your own. I just…well, I just sped up the process. And I’m so sorry you found out like this.”

You scoff again. “I thought my consent was the most important thing to you.”

His eyes widened in shock. “It is, sweet girl.”

“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life, Joel. And I certainly didn’t ask you to speed along the process. What happens if I become a Supreme Court judge and someone finds out that you bribed a university to get me?” He goes to speak, but you raise a hand to stop him and continue. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t bribe anyone, because that’s exactly how this looks and you know it. You wouldn’t be looking at me like a guilty puppy if you thought what you did was right.”

His hands come to cup your face. The warm coffee eyes that usually dance rhythmically around your face are replaced by shifting dark glass beads laced with fear and loss. The warmth you normally feel when he touches you is gone. His eyes flick to your lips and then back to your eyes before he speaks.

“Freckles, I lov-”

Your still raised hand covers his mouth, clamping tightly to his face to stop him.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat and keeping your palm pressed to his soft lips. Your heart pounds behind your ribs in response to what he was about to confess. If he tells you what you so desperately wanted to hear just hours ago, you know you’ll crumble. You’ll let him take you up to his bedroom and apologize in a way that only he can. You’ll spend the night planning how you can do long distance while you’re in California. You’ll let him interfere with the plan…again.

“Don’t say that to me right now, I can’t hear that.”

He nods into your hand slowly, his eyes soften, and you try to memorize every bit of amber in his otherwise black brown eyes. This will be the last time he looks at you like this, and the realization seems to suck the air out of the room. You wish you could bottle up how it makes you feel when he looks at you like that; the way it comforts you and shuts off the narrated to do list in your mind that’s always growing in your mind.

“Joel, if…if you feel that way, then you’ll let me go,” you tell him, voice just above a whisper. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the heat of it warming your hand. One of his hands leaves your face to wrap around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away or step back out of your grip. Instead, he runs his thumb in small circles along the soft, smooth skin there, and you swear you can feel the whorls of his thumb tattooing themself on you, trying desperately to stay with you forever.

“You’ll understand why I have to go to Berkeley now,” you continue. “I have been working so hard for this. And for years, I have been doing it all on my own. I’m so close, Joel…so close to finishing what I started when I was, like, seven years old. So, please, I’m begging you…please do not finish that sentence.”

You drop your hand from his mouth, his grip going weak as he lets you slip out of his grasp. He looks small, almost deflated in front of you as he stumbles back a few steps. The silence between the two of you feels heavy.

It’s over. Whatever this was, or could be, is over, and you both know it.

When he finally speaks, it’s a sad whisper. “What about when you’re done?”

“A lot can change in three years, Joel,” you respond, mostly to extinguish the flicker of hope in your chest. It’s better for you to push him away now than to hope that he’ll be there when you graduate. No one has ever been there for you, and this is proving to be no different. You step around him and head to the front door, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as the tears threaten to reappear while you get your shoes on.

“Freckles, wait.”

You close your eyes, facing the door with your hand on the matte black knob. His dress shoes click on the shiny marble before his large hand comes to rest on the door beside your head. This is the exact position you were in after accidentally catching him in his office. You keep your eyes glued to the door and after a sniffle, a quiet clearing of his throat and a whispered, heartbreaking ‘fuck’, he continues.

“I really am sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. “This is not how I wanted this to go, but you know what you need and I respect your choice. These last few weeks have been so much more than I could have imagined, more than I deserve. You have brought me back, sweet girl. I know you probably don’t believe a word of what I’ve said tonight, and that’s ok, but with you, I felt that pull that I’ve been waiting for. I felt it the minute your cleaning caddy fell to the ground and I locked eyes with you. If you were anyone else, I would have let you run out of here and then had you fired. I chased you and I’ve been chasing you ever since, even though I know you are meant for more and that this could only ever be temporary for you. This was always going to be the end for me and a well-deserved, hard-earned beginning for you.”

He takes a shaky breath in and you open your eyes, but you don’t look back at him. “Regardless of all that, I meant what I said in my office that day. Starting this with you would be it for me. A lot can change for you in three years, and I want you to experience everything in California. But for me, it’s you. It will always be you.”

Your chest feels like it’s going to cave and your knees threaten to buckle. “I have to go, Joel,” you grit out, forcing your voice past the boulder that’s formed in your throat.

“I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl,” he whispers, dropping his hand and stepping back. The heat of his broad body and leather-and-ash scent disappear from behind you, and it feels like you’ve been plunged into freezing, uncharted waters.

You get in your car and drive, unsure of where your final destination will be. After driving around Austin for a while, you find yourself parking outside of the Maid Discreetly office. You take a minute, deciding what you are and aren’t going to tell your best friend before heading in. Jamie’s office is impeccable as always, not a single smudge on the glass desk as she types on her laptop, looking effortlessly perfect.

“Hey, babe!” she says with a smile as you cross the threshold.

“How’s your dad doing with the California office?” you say, trying to act casual.

“Oh my god!” she practically shrieks as she jumps up from her chair. “Did you get into Berkeley?”

“That depends,” you say, raising one shoulder. “Does he have a job for me there?”

“Holy shit!” She runs around the desk and wraps you in her arms. How she can move like that in stilettos is beyond you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break an ankle,” you deadpan. The weight of what just happened with Joel almost dissipates. Jamie pulls back to look at you, her eyes scan your face and you feel exposed.

“Why aren’t you more excited? What’s wrong?”

Shit.

A sob leaves your throat and you collapse into Jamie’s open arms. She pulls you into her office with one arm and closes her door with the other, then leads you to the couch along the far wall. As soon as she gets you seated, you manage to explain everything between sobs and very unattractive nose blowing.

This is supposed to be one of those exciting moments of your life. You did it: you got into the school you always dreamed of and you're moving to California; a place you always felt most at ease in. Yet, it’s all clouded over by having your heart wholly shattered by a man that you actually thought was going to be the love of your life. Someone who showed you he cared, showed you that he’d always be there.

But it was all a lie.

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strawberryvanillafrosting · 1 year ago

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success life story ♡

heyy i'm here to share about my success story, the beginning is only before i started manifesting and about when i just started, all my success are on the very end of the blog, so feel free to skip directly at it if you're not interest by all the rambling !

have a good read ☆

michiko is so pretty, i've literally been told so many times i looked liker <3

the old story that i don’t live in anymore

okay so before i didn’t hate my life, at all, but i just found very dull and so poor of entertaining like it was just too fucking regular and repetitive.also a bit depressing. i thought of myself of such an unlucky girl before and i was like affirming all the fucking time that i was unlucky and guess what? everything really used to go the way i didn’t want it to go every single damn time and i’d be like i knew it im so unlucky boo-hoo.

same for the money i would just go every single fucking day rambling to my friends how poor i was and how i wanted money so bad and the same story every single fucking for days, weeks, months.

i really wanted a new appartement and my own room cause i used to share same room as my sister and it really was getting on my nerves, i had no privacy and place for myself. the apartment was small, my mum always kept complaining about it and then she would argue about my dad about it but the reason why we couldn’t move out despite trying for several months was cause my dad had whole lotta debts and my mom had a really low paying and hard job she was exhausted and, it was quiet hard to see them being this unhappy and they still tried their hardest to make us happy so i really wanted to get back at them.

about social life i had very few friends and barely went out, i'd say probably one time a month. and i really wanted to get that life of the party, and those big ass friends group and also i was crazy desperate about having black friends cause i am black and literally the only black out here without none of black friends and i felt pretty left out like wtf am i the only black girl with no black friends cause all of them (that's so dumb tho.. ) were friends and gets invited to the most fun hangouts and i was embarrassingly jealous of that and also complained a lot about it…and kept asking tf was wrong with me.

STRONGLY on this one : i wanted a relationship so bad and i kept hating and being sad to those couple on tiktok’s. one time i actually cried cuz i wanted a boys’s love so bad like i was craving it so bad. i was in such despair state before..cringy ahh ☠️

i used to be rlly insecure about my looks too even tho at some moments i felt more confident, i kept comparing myself and waisting dozens of minutes enumerating my "flaws ". i knew about manifestation but not really about law of assumption , for me manifesting was really all about listening to subliminals, method and scripting. we all once knew that phase yeah? i used to manifest from time to time but then would just give up again,since i was not seeing results and so on. so useful wow.and then there’s the others things like mediocre grades, poor family health, just constant tiredness and fatigue feeling,

tw : mention of being depressed,sh,ed, : felt empty like life had absolutely no meaning, suicidal thoughts, tried to end by over-consumption of medication, self-harm and bulimia, constant complaining and NEGATIVE ONLY mindset.

but now, NOW i tell you ever single thing i’ve just listed changed completely like every single damn thing i’ve just listed is no more, it’s out of the date, dead, buried and no longer existing !

it clicked

then at some point at my life i was just like. yk what? fuck i just wanna change it all. then i really like really got into it all over again and for good. no more 1 week i try then giving up cause i ain’t seeing no « results ».

i watched hours and hours of ppl talking about loa (i’m not saying you should do this at all it’s just that i was very under-informed and wanted to know everything about loa)on youtube, shoutout to rita kaminski and hyler who really put me into it and informed me. then i started reading neville’s pdf books, and tumblr blogs, kinda overconsuming but i liked getting myself informed.

and then that’s where everything started and that i got aware of all the power i actually hold. all the things i actually can do just cause of my mind. i wrote down all my wishes in present tense ,like every single aspect i wanted to change/have in my life. and i started fully living in the end like really got myself into and at first of course, wavering from time to time in the beginning. it was pretty easy for me since i was used to manifestation.but what i didn’t do before is persist no matter what and that’s what was really tricky for me in the beginning to persist no matter what and not just give up to bullshit 3D. but when i kept moving forward no matter the 3D and made it facts the only my 4D matters and everything has already happened, ALL and every single wish down to the last one flowed into my life. ONE by ONE every single hour of the day i would get my manifestations down to the last letter i wrote in my notes.every single thing

success storyy

in a matter of few weeks like really 3 week-ish like- 1 month max.

starting off LUCK i’m extremely lucky now every single time i play gambling activities i win. i’ve won insane amounts at scratch cards i think i’ve won in total more than 5’000$. JUST FROM SCRATCH CARDS.and before i started i NEVER EVER WON. now whenever i play there’s not one time that i’ll win absolutely nothing even just a small prize

won huge lottery prize (from 200 to 12k the biggest i’ve won yet)

winning a gambling games, either online or dice rolling luck,bets, bingos etc.. its literally insane every one keep telling that i literally has got god’s blessing (i’m the god guys🥰)

financially freedom, my parents upgraded jobs and i’ve got lots of incomes + the money my parents give me

all the debts my dad had, he got rid of ALL of them and when i tell you mf had a lot of em☠️

move out in a new huge ass condo which is a duplex (like really like i wrote it it’s actually scary how powerful we are..) I’VE FINALLY GOT MY OWN ROOM and we’re getting my desired furnitures and decorating the house i’m so grateful

friends and popularity i think biggest shock for me is really this. like my social life has gone from very paisible to completely fully booked and passioning life. like seriously i’ve been to more parties, concerts, birthdays, and hangouts during the last 2 weeks holidays than in my entire life

got lot of new friends, healthy relationships and quality time passed on lots of fun activities and sm memories

black groups friend. WITH AN S.so thankful to myself to be this good a manifestation i litteraly got into a black friend group of girls and i’ve never felt more at my place and understood this much. and these girls know the black group boys (when i tell you that 2y ago they were the person that i wanted to be close with so bad..also they’re really hot and funny lol)so we hung out with them and i was literally so highlighted and became pretty much friends with all of them !!

my man. HELLO I LITERALLY MANIFESTED MY DREAM RELATIONSHIP? when i met him i didn’t actually realize right on the spot that he was exactly how i wanted him to be and reading back to when i scripted out all the things i wanted at the beginning, everything matched. he’s literally physically and mentally the man of my dream LIKE REALLY. we’re no bf and gf YET cause it’s just a little soon but we see each others super often and we have the best relationship ever i swear it’s giving wattpad. the flirting is crazyyy.

dream bod.from head to toe my desired body. heavy on the lower body all for that azz and wide hips.ive got smooth and clear skin and smell good all the time!! litteraly flawless face + got my braces which suits so much and dimples

plenty of vacations (went to ibiza, usa and dubai )

lenient parents they use to be so strict before i swear its crazy they let me go so easily now, i can hangout without asking 3 days ,like they accept even if i've gotta go in the next hour or if wanna go on trip that's in another country. i can come back home so much later too

attractive & magnetic aura + being really charismatic (everyone i met keep telling me i’ve got this thing that really makes them want me, get closer to me)

good grades without doing much

perfect self-concept - as i kept living 24/7 in the state of wish fulfilled, my self concept only got better making me really know what i’m worth and never wavering/ going back to the old story

whole ass pc set up

all of my desired skincare/makeups/shoes/clothes

and so much more...

outro

i hope y'all liked my blog and that it motivated some of you to NEVER GIVE UP cause y'all are reallyy some powerful mfs and y'all already got all of yours desires !!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ honey kisses, shayama

#manifesting #law of assumption #sucess story #loa success #loa blog #loassumption #neville goddard #self concept #nondualism #void state #state of the wish fullfilled

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mrs-hwangh · 3 months ago

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a boxers heart.

chapter one

Kim Geonwoo x Fem!Reader

Summary: one day was enough to change your lifes forever. Geonwoo is your best friend, you help his mother with her coffee shop and became part of a legendary trio with Geonwoo and Woojin. However.. nothing will ever be the same again after the Smile Company entered your lifes.

wc: 2.1k

an: the story will follow the dramas events. Adjustments were made to include our character into the storyline.. other then that.. watch the two characters fall in love with each other ✨️

Enjoy

______________________________________________

He strikes again! Kim Geon-woo landed a fatal blow on Hong Woo-jins side! Sending him directly on the floor once more!

Will he stand up again just like he did earlier? It definetly does not look like this.

And three! two! one!

We have our winner! Kim Geon-woo won the tournament with an outstanding performance!

This year was truly something else. The pandemic hitting us out from the blue, causing for endless troubles.. These young men however proved us that the struggles we faced, still wanting to organize this grand show off, all of our hard work for making it work.. everything payed off!

We are proud to announce this years winner and to honor every other contestant who took part.

And let's not forget Hong Woo-jin! This finale was special because both of these young men went over their limits to decide the title of this years winner!

Now, have fun and enjoy your time!

Ladies and Gentleman, we'll hopefully meet again on the next years tournament!

The commentators praised the two while the cameraman focused on sharing close ups of the said fighters.

"He won! My Geonwoo won!"

His mothers melodic voice ringed through her small coffee shop, the small Samsung screen showing the broadcast.

"He's the best!"

You joined her cheering, engulfing her into a hug since she awaited you with open arms.

"I'm so proud of him!!"

His mother was the biggest sweetheart anyone could imagine. She truly loved her son and did everything in her power to ensure him a safer future.

You helped her once when she was cleaning up her store on her own.

Other then Geonwoo sometimes, she has no employees helping her to run the shop.. so you decided to offer your help.

It wasn't something you felt obliged to do, you just did it because you enjoyed helping others in general.

Ever since then, you decided to head over her shop to help her with everything, you didn't take money since you were payed well from another job you did sometimes.

With art.

Commissions payed you great.. this was more then enough for you to work for her for free.

"Do you want to head over? I can take over the shift until you return"

You offered but she was quick to decline.

"Thank you but I will stay here, what about you going to see him? I'm sure that it'd make him happy"

She offered you a warm smile.

... should I?

"Are you sure?"

His mother quikly nodded and pointed at the door.

"Enjoy his win together, make this day even more special as it already is!"

You were pushed out of the coffee shop with a gentle push.

She smiled at you as you waved her goodbye.

Now... where would he go after such a big win..

...

Time passed and you decided to just call him, finding him would be impossible otherwise.

'Hey y/n!'

"Congrats woo! You did it!!!"

'Thank you!'

You could hear his chuckle from the other side of the line, but there was another voice

'Hey who is that?'

The second voice was the one of a male, he had company..

"Am I interrupting right now...?"

'No, why? Did something happen?'

'Geonwoo who is this? Is this a girl??'

'Damnit Woojin!'

He whisper yelled that but you had to admit that it was funny.

"No, no don't worry everything is fine.. I just thought of meeting up with you to celebrate your win.. but I don't want to eh.."

'aaaa now I get why you asked me if you were interrupting earlier- No no, do not worry over this, I actually want to introduce you to someone! I'll send you our location, we'd be very happy to celebrate it together, with you!'

You could literally visually imagine his smile as he spoke. Your heart fluttered whenever he spoke.. whenever he smiled.. whenever he talked with you

He may be a boxer, but oh was he pure hearted. If politeness was a person, it'd be him. You need help? He's there. You need a shoulder to lean on? He'll stay by your side until the worst is over.

I'd love to meet him! I'll hurry over!!!

'Whoa whoa! That smil-'

Geonwoo hung up and you made your way to the location he had sent you.

They were eating. Perfect. You'd kill for a good meal now.

"Who was this?? Ohhh man you looked so happy!"

Geonwoo brought his hand to his forehead, resting it while he fought the urge of gifting him a second experience of their fight earlier today.

"A good friend of mine"

But Woojin didn't buy that.. not that easily.

"Yeah yeah.. let's believe that"

He smirked at him while taking the claw to turn the meat around.

Geonwoo was quick to snap it out of his hand.

"Not yet"

Woojin was left confused.

"... what? Hey I'm older, show me some respect"

"But they are not ready"

"I'm hungry."

"They need another minute. At least."

The hungry man wanted to say something but the doors bell interrupted his thoughts.

A girl entered the scene. She looked over the desks until her eyes met his.

"It's her.. from the call?"

Geonwoo nodded. He waved her over as he stood up to greet her and she sprinted towards him.

"Look who showed u-"

"Congrats to our champion!!!"

You jumped at him and hugged him real tight. He was taken aback but swung his arms around you immediately. He chuckled at your action and tightened his grip on you, spinning you around while thanking you. He put you on the ground again after the final spin and that was when you spotted the other man.

Wasn't he his opponent..?

"Let me introduce you to Woojin. Woojin, this is y/n and y/n this is Hong Woojin. We fought earlier at the arena"

You greeted him and complimented him on his fighting skills aswell.

"It's a pleasure to meet you y/n, and thank you"

Geonwoo and you sat down and looked at the meat.

"I think it's ready, you could turn it around no?"

Geonwoo took the claw again and turned the meat, leaving Woojin speechless.

"You disobeyed me when I asked you to do it!"

"It wasn't ready earlier"

"It was!"

"No"

"But-"

"It still needed some time, you see there is a me-"

"That's not fair!"

"It is"

"Okay, cut them now!"

"No"

"Why?!"

"They're not ready yet"

"They are!"

You sat there trying not to laugh, it was funny enough that that Woojin guy tried to make Geonwoo serve that meat while it was clearly not ready.

The trio sat there in silence until you spoke up.

"I think you can cut it now"

"Oh yes it's perfect"

Geonwoo took the scissor and cut the pieces.

Woojin.. well he let his head fall dramatically on the desk, whining that his marine comrad ignored him.

"The world has got to be kidding me"

".. is honesty really that bad?"

Woojin shot his head up and looked at Geonwoos eyes.

"You know what. Let's move on."

You and Geonwoo erupted into a heartfilled laughter and Woojin joined you soon enough.

"Let's raise a toast to the best boxers!!"

"Thank you!"

Said the two in unison as everyone prepared their bites to enjoy their meal after the great day.

"How did you actually meet? Was it after the tournament or during it?"

You were curious, Geonwoo never mentioned Woojin before after all.

"He waited at the hall asking each of his victims to go and eat with him."

Woojin said, side eyeing your friend.

"I thought that he was fooling me at first but he was serious about that" "Ahh yes that sounds like him"

You looked over and lightly hit Geonwoos shoulder.

"I'm glad you asked him, he seems like a fun guy"

Woojin felt a sense of pride as your words left your mouth, grinning widely.

"How did you actually meet Geonwoo?

"Well.. I came across his mother's coffee shop and I help her out ever since then. He happened to enter the shop while I was refilling something. Which was kinda funny because he thought that I was stealing something and oh did he get mad"

"He? Mad??"

Woojin may have only met him today but that.. that guy was more then honest and polite throughout the whole day.. him and mad didn't feel right in the same sentence.

"Oh yes."

You stood up, took a stable stance and mimicked Geonwoos face.

"Who the hell are you?"

Geonwoos eyes widened. Your voice was lower, you did something with your face that did not look like him at all.

"It wasn't that ba-"

"Answer now or I'll call the police"

Woojin nearly choked on his glass of water when you tried to copy his voice.

"Okay but be honest! How would you've reacted if a stranger was roaming freely in your mothers shop?!"

Geonwoo stood up for his defense, attacking your sides while he tickled the hell out of you.

"Wait wait w- sto-op!"

Your laughter filled the place as you tried to free yourself of his attack.

"No."

"Geonwoo!"

He continued his merciless attack until you were both gasping for air. He because he couldn't get over his laughter and you because of the tickling.

"I am feeling like a third wheeler right now"

Woojin put a fake pout and you literally became breathless.

"Woo please-"

"Okay, you shall be forgiven"

"Thank you for your mercy, your majesty"

This is how the whole afternoon went by, you three bonding with each other, exchanging stories and experiences while the restaurants owner regretted their life's choices.

What nobody of you all knew was the sudden visitor.. a man dressed in a suit.. visiting Geonwoos mothers coffee shop to offer her a deal.

It seemed too good to be good, a startup company offering to help the ones in need?

"Thank you so much sir"

"She signed the paper and gave it to the man."

"I have to thank you miss"

"Woojin.. are these original?"

Geonwoo pointed at Woojins shoes, your gaze followed his finger as you spotted the said shoe.

But.. it does look fake.. no?

"Yes. 1.2 Million won"

Geonwoos eyes widened at this.

"What?! That's the rent of our coffee shop!"

Woojin chuckled and shook his head. Your friend looked at you in disbelief.

"Did you hear that??"

You nodded but waited for Woojin to say something..

"Bro.. these are fake"

Thank god.

Geonwoo was relieved upon hearing that.

"It's obvious if you look at the cap, it's shinier. The true ones don't.."

Their voices blended with your surroundings as you took in the scene.

Late night walks weren't rare but this one.. this was somehow special.

The two continued their talk until they realized that you were walking behind them.

"Hey y/n!"

They took a few steps back and swung their arms around you, holding you in their middle.

"You're so small.. we nearly lost you"

Woojin said and you jokingly punched him.

"I'm sorry Mt. Everest"

The three of you continued the chatter as you walked through the streets.

Woojin went to his home at some point leaving you with Geonwoo alone, on your way to the shop.

"Today was quite a handful huh"

You joked, but you had a point.

He won the match, he found a new friend, your trio got created and the restaurant owner now knows about the marines divisions.

"Haha yes.. thank you"

He turned to you, locking your gazes.

"You coming over after the match. It meant alot to me"

"Well.. you're my best friend after all, I'll always be there to support you"

Geonwoo was speechless but his smile was priceless.

"Now let us surprise your mother, I bet she's thrilled to congratulate you on your big day champ"

He nodded and you two arrived at the shop where his mother was. "My Geonwoo! You did it!!"

She sprinted to him and hugged him, really proud of her son. Her eyes then shifted to yours and a warms smile appeared on her face.

"Did you celebrate the win?"

"Yes!! The other fighter.. Hong Woojin was also with us. It was real fun!!"

"I'm glad! Now let's go home everybody"

You three closed the shop and made you way to the apartments.

A black car drove past you as you walked further into the street.

Geonwoo and you looked back at it but the plate was unknown to the both of you.

You turned around again, joining the topic his mother was talking about.

But little did you know that this day would change your life's forever.

#woo do hwan #kim geunwoo #hong woo jin #bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds #geonwoo x reader #dohwan x reader #woodohwan x reader #bloodhounds x reader

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gotta-winwin · 12 days ago

Text

𓆩🖤𓆪 ... falling in love through songs pt.1

⭐ starring: vernon

💌 genre: fluff, light angst

💬 preview: you really wished someone would've told you that the rockstar you'd be photographing for on his tour was Hansol from school. Yes, that Hansol. Your ex-boyfriend Hansol.

tw/cw: rockstar!vernon x photographer!reader, second chance romance, exes to lovers, sworn enemies to lovers, forced proximity, a cheeky joshua, lots of banter, allusions to sex, weed + alcohol

🪽fic rating: pg/16+

☁️ masterlist & a/n: here i am once again with a vernon fic, but this time to kick off our 500 followers event! this one is based on the song heart out by the 1975, one especially close to my own heart. i know i said the release date was the 20th...but inspiration struck and i have zero patience when posting fics. enjoy!

p.s thank you so much to @lovetaroandtaemin and @chugging-antiseptic-dye for beta reading !

this is a part of my 500 followers event

“Hear me out.” Joshua spread his arms as if to hug the air in front of him. “The two of us, on tour, in a tour bus, a fat paycheck.”

You pursued your lips, biting back a smile. His proposition had sounded tempting even over the phone, where he had offered you a photography job on the tour he was managing, a spot on the bus and front row seats to every show.

“It’ll be fun!” He continued, driving the nail in further. “The guy I manage- he’s a chill dude, great rockstar. You’d get along great.”

“What did you say his name was again?” You asked, looking over the contract he had given you one more time.

“Vernon.” Joshua nudged your arm, pushing you to sign. “C’mon. It’ll be like the old days again, bandwagoning across the country in the name of making art.” He placed the last words in air quotations as he smiled. “And the paycheck doesn’t hurt.”

“Not at all.” It was a ridiculous amount of money. “When do we start?”

Clapping his hands, Joshua looked joyous to have you along. “First concert’s tomorrow, right here in New York. It starts at 8, but come earlier so you can meet the band first. I’ll introduce you to Vernon- oh, he’s going to be so psyched to see you.”

As much as you loved his enthusiasm, the jitters of having such a high profile job was catching up to you, once again reminding you just how high the stakes were. You needed this job, for the money, for the recognition it’d give you - you needed it all.

Flashing Joshua a bright smile, you nodded, looking more confident than you felt. “Great. I’ll go home, pack my things, and see you tomorrow!”

“Alright, sunshine.” Joshua chuckled as you struggled to put your coat back on, your childhood nickname rolling off his tongue like second nature. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“This was not the fucking deal, Josh.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you stared, open-mouthed at the boy in front of you, decked out in silver chains, ripped jeans and sporting a backwards baseball cap. He all but screamed rockstar, yet you keep circling back to the fact that-

“Hansol?”

-the fact that you knew him. Very well, in fact.

“Y/N?”

He seemed just as astonished to see you, eyes darting suspiciously towards Joshua. “This, is my tour photographer?”

“This?” You cried out indignantly, turning to Joshua as well. “Did it just not cross your mind to mention that your rockstar happened to be Hansol from school? You lied to me!”

“Well-” Joshua put his hands up in defence, the large grin on his face betraying how much he was enjoying the moment. “Surprise?”

“Joshua!” Both you and Vernon yelled out, anger escaping as the two of you contemplated whether or not throttling Joshua would be worth the consequences.

“I am not staying on a tour bus with her.” Vernon pointed an accusatory finger your way. “Especially not for four months. I’d rather throw myself off a cliff.”

“I’d rather chop off my own finger and eat it.” You hissed back, equally disgusted at the idea of sharing your space with him.

“Contract’s signed.” Joshua shrugged, his eyes dancing with mirth as he watched the two of you glare daggers at one another. “Jeez. It’s like the air in here could kill or something.”

“I do not want to breathe the same air as him.” You stabbed a finger at Vernon.

“I hope you choke on it and die.” He punctuated the last word with fervor.

“Ditto.”

Joshua let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m starting to regret this. Were you guys always this...stabby?”

“Yes.” Chan poked his head out from the green room. “Ever since they broke up they’ve been literal bitches. Whatever happened to hey, Chan, we’ll still be friends! This won’t break the friend group apart!” He frowned, disapprovement evident on his face. Time still hadn’t erased the betrayal he had felt when the two of you broke up, killing their friend group with suffocating silence.

“Whatever.” Vernon muttered, turning away, shoving his in-ears back into his ears. “Stay away from me.”

“With the utmost pleasure.”

You had to begrudgingly admit that Vernon looked good doing his thing onstage. Vernon. It was still odd to even call him that, when you had known him your whole life as Hansol.

Raising your camera, you followed his every movement onstage, staring at him through the viewfinder. He looked almost iridescent under the lights, shining alongside his jewel-encrusted microphone as he rapped, commanding the stage.

“He’s doing well.” Chan slid up behind you, cradling a bundle of wires in his arms. Your entire high school friend group seemed to have conjoined once again, following Vernon on his tour as various supporting crew members. You supposed all the credit went to Joshua, who had been the only one to keep in contact with everyone else.

You hummed, eyes still trained on Vernon.

“Remember when we used to make fun of this? Vernon onstage?” Chan shook his head in mild disbelief.

You could remember it as clear as yesterday, leaning against Hansol in the school courtyard as your group laughed, thoroughly amused by whatever rap he had performed that day. “Everyone told him it was impossible.”

“Except for you.” Chan looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” It was surreal to see him thrive in a life you had basically built with him. You were at his first audition, every coffeehouse show, sitting by him in each shabby and rented studio. “I never thought he’d get this big, though.”

The sheer size of the crowd had been overwhelming at first. You were greeted by the venue’s cheers when you had entered, taken aback by the crowd and by how many fans Hansol had gained. There were fans waving banners, glow sticks, and various trinkets dedicated to him as they cheered, already excited despite the main act still being backstage. It was a bitter pill to swallow: the idea that he was so beloved.

“Maybe you should forgive him.”

You whipped your head to look at Chan, insulted by his suggestion. “I’m not forgiving him.”

“He’s changed!” Chan protested. “He doesn’t actually hate you, he’s just- being stupid.”

Rolling your eyes, you recalled all the times Hansol had hurt you. “I am not forgiving him.” You repeated, more firmly than the last.

“Y/N.” Chan’s eyes pleaded with you. You knew the youngest member of your group still believed in fairy tale endings, but this was harsh reality, and Chan needed to learn that.

“He broke up with me, Chan.” You turned back to the camera, ending the conversation. “I’m not forgiving him.”

“Hey, man.” Joshua moved Vernon’s headphones off his one ear, catching his attention. “Haven’t you tried…just talking to Y/N?”

Vernon let out a deep sigh as he turned to face him, rolling his shoulders back as he mulled the idea over. “What’s the point? We just end up fighting either way.”

“Yeah, but try actually talking to her. Nicely.”

Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed. “How do you do that?”

“Boy.” Joshua pushed Vernon’s forehead with a finger, shaking his head disapprovingly. “How did you even start dating her in the first place? Be nice. Ask questions. Sound interested. It’s not that difficult, Non.”

Vernon had to begrudgingly admit that a part of him did want to speak with you without a fight. He was longing to experience the kind of conversations you had shared with him before, splitting open your heart and baring your soul to one another without fear of judgement. Conversations long forgotten by now.

“I’ll talk to her.” Vernon promised Joshua, moving his headphones back and returning to his laptop. “Don’t worry.”

Joshua nodded, glancing over at Chan, who shot him a knowing look, pointing his chin towards the bunk beds, where you were sitting, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

“Hey.”

You looked up to find Vernon staring down at you from his spot on the bunk ladder, hands clutching the rails as he balanced himself on the third rung.

You greeted him with a noncommittal grunt, hoping he’d leave you alone. The amount of tour photos still to be edited on your laptop was overwhelming, and you were in no mood to fight him today.

“Whatcha doing?” Vernon followed up with a question, rocking back and forth on the spot, a lazy drawl in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden interest. “Editing your photos.”

He leaned down for a better look. “They look good.”

“No.” You sighed, your shoulders sagging a bit at your words. “The colors are off, and the saturation- I can’t get the lighting to behave.” Waving vaguely around the photo where his face was, you sighed again. “It’s not doing you any justice.”

“Are you saying I look good in person?”

Yes. But you’d never admit that. Coughing as you tried to save face, you shot him a heavy side eye. “No, I’m saying it makes you look uglier than you actually are.”

“You still fucked this ugly person.”

“A stupid teenage mistake I’ll never make again.”

He fixed you with a withering stare.

“Are you done now?” You asked, moving your eyes back on your work. “You should leave, unless you want me to release these with you looking ugly.”

Vernon hopped off the ladder, muttering something about why he even bothered trying in the first place.

“Hey.” Joshua invaded your space next, poking his head into your bunk. “I saw you talking to Vernon.” A meddling smile crossed his face when you swore under your breath.

“Nothing special, Josh.” You pushed his head away from your laptop. “Stop trying to stir the pot.”

Ignoring your statement, he continued. “How was it?”

“The conversation? Bland.” You grimaced. “Vernon? Same old, same old.”

Joshua frowned. “Meaning…what exactly?”

“Same inflated ego, same dumb face.” You looked up from your laptop once again. “Look. I really need to get this done. So-”

“I got it.” Joshua squeezed your hand before climbing back down, an amused smile on his face the entire time. “Just play nice, alright?”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you returned to stare at Vernon’s picture, hating how perfect the universe had allowed him to be.

The air was biting and cold as you stepped off the tour bus for the first time in eight hours. Placing down your bags to stretch your legs, you contemplated whether or not it was really worth it to spend a night off the tour bus if it meant rooming with Vernon.

Both Joshua and Chan had insisted it was the only sleeping arrangement that would make sense.

“I am not sleeping on the couch.” Vernon announced as you both stepped into the hotel room.

Throwing your bags on the floor, you let out a guffaw. “You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“I don’t care where you sleep as long as it’s not next to me. Also, I’m showering first.”

You looked up from your bags to see him sporting a shit-eating grin, already making his way to the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“Bitch!” You yelled after him, growing more annoyed when you heard him laugh behind the door.

“How original.” He called back, the sound of the shower turning on reaching your ears. “Don’t try and peek.”

You scoffed, setting your things on the countertop. “I’m not stupid enough to blind myself.”

“Bitch.”

“Who’s unoriginal now?”

Cringe pooled into your stomach as you replayed the immature spat you just had with him.

Joshua’s words from the previous night echoed in your mind as you listened to the sounds of Vernon showering, mindlessly unpacking your bags for the night. You’re both adults now. Just talk it out. Play nice.

Perhaps he had a point about the two of you being adults now.

“Y/N!”

The sound of your name coming from his mouth jolted you out of your sudden epiphany. Turning, you spotted a dripping arm poking out from the bathroom, the door opened to a crack.

“I forgot to grab my clothes.” Vernon mumbled, his ears pink as he poked his head out, eyes pleading with you. “Can you-”

Play nice. Fighting everything in you to not laugh, you nodded, moving over to his suitcase to pull out his clothes, pointedly avoiding eye contact as you handed it to him.

A snort escaped you as the bathroom door slammed shut.

A thoroughly embarrassed Vernon stepped out a few minutes later, his hair dripping water onto the carpet, his eyes cast downwards as he made his way to the work desk in the corner, setting up his laptop and the various pieces of equipment he used to produce.

“I can hear you laughing.” He mumbled as he sat down.

Your shoulders shook with the effort to keep quiet. “I’m not laughing.”

“I can see your shoulders shaking.”

Pulling a chair to sit a few ways away from him, you watched as he began to work, the sight bringing back old memories you thought you had forgotten. Watching him produce late into the night as you laid in bed, the dimmed lights of his laptop keeping you company.

“What are you working on?” Your voice was soft, quiet, gentle. An olive branch.

Vernon moved his headphones to the side, glancing at you before returning attention to his multicolored launchpad. “Music.” He restrained himself from adding the duh he knew was unnecessary.

“New song?” You leaned in for a closer look.

Vernon’s lips twitched, knowing full well you couldn’t understand what you were looking at. “Old one. Wrote it a couple months before we graduated high school.”

You hummed. “Can I hear it?”

He seemed surprised at your request, his fingers pausing as they hovered over his mouse. “Sure.”

With trembling hands, he removed his headphones to place them on you, adjusting them until they fit snugly over your ears.

You got something to say? Why don't you speak it out loud Instead of living in your head? It's always the same Why don't you take your heart out Instead of living in your head? It's just you and I tonight Why don't you figure my heart out? It's just you and I tonight Why don't you figure my heart out?

Vernon’s voice dripped like liquid gold into your ears as you sat and listened, entranced by the melody and taken aback by how nostalgic the music was. This was the Vernon you had known. None of the current rockstar bravado you had seen him display onstage. The Vernon singing in your ears was the same Vernon you had fallen in love with, baggy jeans, unkempt hair, a knack for telling bad jokes. This was Hansol.

The music ended as you faced him, catching him staring at you already.

Vernon had always loved watching you absorb his music.

“Heart out is special.” He mumbled, knowing the words wouldn’t be heard by you. “Wrote it about you.”

The idea had sparked within him one night, after realizing that maybe he just wasn’t a man of many words. How he longed for you to just take apart his heart and understand him that way.

“Hansol-” You started, taking off the headphones and placing them on the desk in front of you. “We need to talk.”

He nodded. “I-” I still love you. The words caught in his throat.

“I’ve been thinking about what Joshua said. About us being adults now.” The words spilled from your mouth as you finally bit the bullet. “He’s right. We’ve been bickering like children when we should just talk it out. Talk it out, and then we can both move on. Leave the past in the past. Walk separate ways.”

There was something about the way he was looking at you that made your heart putter to a stop. “But I don’t want to walk separate ways.”

“What?”

His eyes met yours as he repeated himself. “I don’t want to walk separate ways. I want to walk together.”

Rage coursed through you as you stared at him, appalled by how simple he was making it out to be. “You can’t say that.” You blurted out, standing up and pointing a finger at him. “You have no right to say that.”

“Y/N-”

“No.” You cut him off, your tone hard, feeling your eyes well up with sudden tears. “You have no right to say that. Not when you were the one who was cruel.”

“I wasn’t-” He protested once more, only to be cut off by you again.

“You broke up with me.” You reminded him, your voice holding a steely edge. “Over text. And then you blocked me with no explanation. You made me suffer for months before we graduated- and then you just left!” A stunned laugh escaped you as you relieved your past together. “You have no right to ask for more.”

“Y/N, please.” Vernon grabbed your hands, clutching them tightly in his. “I- I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Why did you break up with me?” You asked, a question that had been killing you all these years, rotting away as it sat, unanswered.

Vernon opened his mouth and nothing came out. He closed it and looked away.

“Of course.” Something between a sob and a laugh echoed from your lips as you pulled your hands away. “You haven’t changed at all, Hansol.”

Vernon watched you walk away, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. He picked up his headphones and continued to work, ignoring the ache in his chest as the music blurred before him, fresh tears clouding his sight. Vernon knew you were right. He hadn’t changed. All these years and he was still a coward, owning a heart filled with a hundred things to say to you but a mouth that refused to help.

Vernon couldn’t help but look your way as his concert progressed into the night, sneaking glances towards your section as he plastered a look on his face that he hoped passed as ‘chill.’

He hated how your camera seemed to be pointed everywhere except at him.

Although Vernon would never admit it, he could still remember all the times he had been the focus of your shots, smiling at him from behind your camera as you chided him to stay still. His insecure teenage self had always hated being the center of attention, but now that he had grown and learned what it was like to lose you, he found himself missing once being your muse.

Perhaps it was time for him to speak out, he thought, as he watched your eyes flitter across the crowd.

Why don't you speak it out loud Instead of living in your head?

A sickening pang landed in his stomach as he lowered his microphone, his own advice seering through the front of his mind.

He had to tell you that you had never stopped being his.

The tour bus reeked of alcohol and puffs of weed as the band relaxed after their last show. Declining to drink, you sat next to Chan, keeping a watchful eye on the group as their designated sober friend.

You hated how painfully aware you were that Vernon was missing. It was a habit you still couldn’t kick -- how you still seemed to be hot wired to notice him first, even in a crowded room.

“Y/N.” Joshua poked your ribs to catch your attention. “Vernon’s looking for you.”

Frowning, you scooched away from him to avoid the liquid that was sloshing dangerous from his cup. “Why?”

He shrugged. “He’s waiting outside.”

You found him sitting on the curb, a few meters away from the bus, scuffing his feet against the gray asphalt. An empty can of beer sat by his side.

“Hansol.” You could tell from his composure that he was drunk. “Let’s go inside.” Walking closer, you tried pulling him up by his arm, failing as he continued to sit.

Vernon let out an unintelligible grunt.

“Hansol.” You repeated, suddenly getting a strong sense of deja vu. “We’re not children anymore, Han. I can’t keep picking you up each time you crash out.”

He looked up at you with red eyes, an all too familiar pout on his face. “Y/N.”

“Hansol.”

“Remember how we used to play two truths and a lie?” He suddenly asked, echoing the countless times the two of you had played the game for fun. “We never finished.”

“What?” Your throat suddenly felt awfully dry as you recalled the instance he was referring to. That one time you guys had played, just a few days before your break up.

“We got interrupted halfway by my mom. I never got my turn.” He frowned when he realized you were still standing, your hand gripping his arm as yours dangled loosely by your side. “Sit down, let’s play.”

“You’re drunk, Hansol.” You reminded him.

Shaking his head, he insisted once more. “Let me finish.”

There was nothing you could do but humor him, and you had to admit, you were curious as well.

Vernon exhaled loudly before speaking, his breath hitting the air in wisps of smoke. “Okay. Two truths and a lie.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands.

“I broke up with you because I didn’t love you anymore. I never actually wanted to be a rockstar, not initially at least. And-” He paused, breathing deeply once more. “I’m still in love with you.”

You felt your lungs constrict and explode.

“You’re drunk.” Standing up, you pried your hands apart, throwing his back into his lap.

Vernon nodded, his eyes unfocused as he stared at some spot on your jeans. “Guess.”

“Hansol.” Your tone sterned, knowing he was a few seconds away from passing out or throwing up. “Vernon.”

Maybe you were the one who felt like throwing up.

Because you knew none of the things he just told you could possibly be true.

Vernon knew he had done something wrong when he woke up with a splitting headache, his ears ringing as he rolled out of bed. He had barely regained his bearings before Chan barged in, pulling the curtain that separated his bunk from the world apart.

“Vernon, Y/N’s leaving.”

A lighting bolt shot through his spine. “What?”

“She told Joshua she can’t do it anymore. Something about having enough photos for tour posts already, so she’s leaving.” Chan stared down his disheveled friend, shaking his head. “What did you even say to her last night?”

“What?”

“She came back looking like she wanted to hurl.”

“I need to go.” Vernon stood up, stumbling to put on his shoes as he unplugged his phone from the charger.

Chan wordlessly pointed him towards your direction.

“Y/N!” Vernon scrambled out of the bus, missing the last two steps down entirely as he ran to catch up with you.

“Hansol-”

“I love you.” He panted out, the words escaping him like a breath of fresh air.

The rejecting words you had been meaning to say caught in your mouth, slipping back down your throat and choking you. “What?”

“I love you. I always have.” He pulled your bags out of your hands. “Please don’t leave, I just got you back.”

“Hansol, I-”

He held up a hand, a wordless request to let him finish. “Let me tell you something I should’ve said years ago, please. Without the games this time. I love you. Hell, I never stopped. I broke up with you because-” He paused.

You half expected him to bail again. To let history repeat itself.

“Because I was scared.” He finished, and you felt your lungs begin to work again. “I was being a stupid teenager who felt the touch of a real lover and got spooked. You were so fucking real and it terrified me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Vernon averted his eyes at your question, chewing at his bottom lip as he thought. “I guess the longer I stayed away the easier it was.” He let out a dry laugh. “You were already so perfect in my memories I didn’t want to risk erasing that by trying again and failing.”

“Why now?” You could feel your chin quivering as tears gathered, awaiting his answer.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He stated simply. You used to hate the fact that Hansol was a simple man, thinking it meant he could never care for you in that deep and encroaching way you wanted.

“You wouldn’t have failed.” You told him, because in your life it had only ever been him. “And I was never perfect.”

“You were to me.” Vernon held out his hand, a wordless request to try again. “You still are.”

You took it with no hesitation, because now, you knew simplicity was just his way of life. And to Vernon, loving you was the simplest thing to do in the world.

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carmenized-onions · 9 months ago

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Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life— Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear x you #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

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lanabitch2 · 8 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss scenarios:How you guys met

Charlie:(Time Line: Pilot

So you were good friends with Alastor or he owned your soul so he just spawned you to help out with the hotel and Charlie was nothing but sweet to you which was why you guys became close friends

Vaggie:(After Charlie found her)

So you are Charlie's sibling and Charlie wanted your help to get Vaggie better to which you did help ,and you and Vaggie bonded during that time which lead to her being a protective friend

Alastor:(During the show,before the Pilot)

So before the pilot he knew because once he became a overlord and came to the overlord meetings he met you another overlord and he didn't talk to you at first so you talked to him first which you and him become with besties especially with Rosie!(wait I should make a group of Alastor, Rosie,and Overlord!Reader!)And now to the show so during the overlord meetings you see him after 7 years while you and Rosie were chatting and she basically pushed you to talk to him again to which you do and you guys became close friends again!

Angel Dust:(Pilot)

You were a sinner who wanted to be redeemed so you helped Charlie with her hotel and in scene where they were in the car,Angel Dust was flirting with you the whole time even if Vaggie was screaming(?) At him,he didn't care

Husk:(Before He lost his soul to Alastor,and the pilot)

You knew him once again because of overlord meetings!You are a overlord again,You and him became friends fast and you would sometimes go to his casino and play cards with just for fun and then Alastor showed up and then Husk lost his soul. During the pilot Alastor has you help to which you do and while at the bar you meet Husk again, his is grumpy towards you but he secretly is glad that he can see you again!

Nifty(THIS IS PLATONIC!):(Pilot)

It was when Alastor just got her out of the fireplace or oven(I've heard both)and she started cleaning the place and at one point she just looked at you and then giggled and then started cleaning again, You knew she was something different

Sir Pentious:(Show)

It was after"It starts with sorry" you 2 didn't really pay attention to each other at first but he then started to try and talk to you which he was super nervous and would say the wrong thing but you were nice to him(cause duh he is sir pentious)and became his friend

Cherri bomb:(Show)

When she just blew up the wall in the hotel and Charlie gave her money to the bar(?),so when you guys were there you started talking to her and she was kinda rude bur in teasing way and after a while she was acting like your best friend

Valentino:(anytime)

So you needed a job so you went to his studio and you didn't even half to say"Can I have a job here." He just goes"Do YoU nEeD a JoB?"*And you just nod so you gave your soul go him and stuff <3

Vox:Anytime

You are just a powerful overlord who works with the Vees and Vox grew a liking to you and was kinda weird but you didn't really care about it and deal with it but you guys are friends(you replaced Alastor?)

Velvette(MA QUEEN!):Anytime

So you were one of her models and she didn't really care for you at first until she saw how much talent you had and she was awestruck so she then started showing favoritism towards you

Adam:(Earth garden of eden)

So after he lost both of his wives to Lucifer,God made him a new wife(or husband but it might start just becoming a female if so then sorry!),you were loyal to him and loved him no matter what(MY HEART OF STONNNNNNNE!)

Lute:(Anytime,and so this reader is female it just makes since of what I'm about to for the reader)

So your are a exterminator and she used not care for you until Adam started talking about you to her and she then started to pay close attention to you,which you noticed after a while and asked her"What?"and she was pissed until she chilled out started talking to you and you guys were chill

Emily(My bestie loves her):Anytime

You were a Seraphim to(I REALLY HOPE THAT NOT ALL SERAPHIMS ARE REALATED!)And she always talked to you when she just wanted to but you guys never really were friends she talked to you when she didn't think Sera would understand so at one point you were like"Wanna be friends?"and she would squeal and be like"YES!YES!"

Saint Peter(I love him and "OH!~"):Anytime

You were a Seraphim and he would sometimes see you when he would see Sera and Emily but you guys never really talked so at one point when you were just alone,he started talking to you which made you guys close

(End of hazbin hotel but if you want me to add more people than you say who)

Helluva boss

Blitzø(Mwah):(Before the whole Blitz and stolas fucking thing for the book)

So you needed a job so you saw IMP and thought *Murder >:)* so you when to work there and he had you meet him in his office and he was like "who do you want dead?"until you telled him you wanted a job and hired

Millie(THICK-um sorry and her and Moxxie are not married atleast not in these preferences but you can request them together!):season 1 episode 5 Harvest Moon Festival

So she knew you from her childhood back in the warth ring and once she saw you again at The Harvest Moon Festival she was overjoyed and so were you and you guys started catching up you ended up just going back with her and started working at IMP

Moxxie(Possum!):Harvest Moon Festival

So you also knew Millie and she introduced you two to each other and he was kinda nervous but you were kind for him to trust you and like the last preference you went to IMP to work there

Lonna(Goth queen):Anytime when she was with Blitz

So you got a a job at IMP and you tried to talk to her but Moxxie is telling you to not so you didn't for a while until you just did and she at first wasn't listening to you until she found out you like some of the same stuff as her and she kinda became your friend

Stolas(Birdy :<):Loo Loo land

So you worked for IMP and Blitzo had you and M&M to come along to protect Stolas and Octavia at Loo Loo Land,After a while Stolas started taking a liking towards you and was like "Blitzy give that one and you still have the book"

Stella(Sorry):Idk

You were a servant/maid for the Goitia family and she was kinda nice to you but was still a bitch

Stirker(I mean!~):Teen times

You were Millies sibling and knew him some what around the ranch and his father so at one point when you were trying to get on a big ass horse and kept falling,he walked over and was kind(I think he was a weet heart in his childhood and teens but his dad messed it all up)and he said"Do ya need help?" He smiled and helped you up and you guys started talking after becoming friends

Asmdeuos&Fizzarolli(IM SORRY I PUT THEM TOGETHER I JUST-UGH!I LOVE THEM BOTH SO SO MUCH SO I WILL GLADLY DATE BOTH!):Anytime

So you were a stripper for them and they never really noticed you until you pulled a amazing stunt(?) So after they had a talk with you and started saying how good you are and that you are probably the best stripper which you became close to them

Verosika(Mommy):Anytime

You one of her BIGGEST fans in hell and on time at her concert when you were shouting "I love you!" She winked at you and after the concert she had you come back stage and she had you join her little group

Vortex(....Well!~):Anytime

So you were part of Verosika's little group,he never really payed attention to you but at one point you started flirting with him and he was pretty chill about it and was screaming on the inside and after that you guys became close

Mammon(Fat Christmas tree that I love!):Anytime

So you performed for him at one point which he really liked you and your style so he had you like work with him and now you are the SIN OF GREEDS pet.Maybe?

Beeulzubub(slay queen bee!):anytime

You were at one of her party's and she started talking to you and was like acting like your best friend and after she like gave you her number,you guys started hanging out

So I forgot Lucifer so!

Lucifer(eat me out please):when he visits the hotel

So when he visits he noticed you were like a parent to Charlie and he wasn't mad about it because she needed a parent figure(Alastor:I'm a roach-wait no nifty!)*and he stared talking to and was like "new Lilith?" In his head

My oc's

Helen:Anytime

So you came to her bar and she caught interest in you and would start talking to you and be kind flirty while also being a sweetheart and then you guys meet again at the hotel

Dawn:anytime

You were also a model for Velvette like her and she noticed how good you are and wanted you to teach her and so you did and then you guys met again in the hotel

THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO HAVE READ THIS!<3

THANK YOU FOR 57 LIKES( Is that what their called?)

THANK YOU FOR 168 LIKES!I'M REALLY HAPPY!LOVE YALL!<3

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jellybonbons · 10 months ago

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Calm husband x Assertive wife headcanons

DI!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

A/N: heavily inspired by safa and fahad’s relationship from dubai bling.

Leon with a wife who is a bit of a firecracker—she's got that bratty streak, a stubborn side, and isn't afraid to speak her mind. But beneath all that, she's also incredibly understanding, compassionate, and fiercely loyal (only to him and her loved ones).

After all he's been through, he's looking for someone who can keep him grounded, bring him back down to earth, or just take charge in the relationship. He wants to be pampered and taken care of.

Leon, who's all about going with the flow, has this "it is what it is" mindset, but you, his wife, are the one who calls the shots on his behalf. As Leon grew older, he stopped giving fucks except for his darling wife.

Take driving, for example. If someone cuts him off, he's the type to shrug it off. But you? You're the one with road rage, ready to give them a piece of your mind. And when his order gets messed up, he'll just eat it, but not you. You'll be marching up to the manager, making sure he gets what he paid for because, hey, it's all about getting your his money's worth.

"Sweetheart, it's fine, really," he said, offering a small smile.

"No, it's not. You specifically said no chilli. And what do they do? Add it in anyway. It's like they're gunning for you," you replied, clearly irritated and a tad dramatic. Poor white man can't handle his spice.

Sometimes you'd push the limit, and he'd have your back. But once you're home and out of the public eye, he'll give you a lecture about where you went wrong. It might take you a minute to actually hear him out because, let's face it, you're stubborn. But he's got his tricks to make sure you eventually listen, if you know what I mean.

People might raise eyebrows at your marriage because you two are total opposites. They whisper nonsense behind your back because of your straightforwardness and confidence, and that's something Leon doesn't let slide. That's when he gives a damn, because nobody gets to badmouth his wife.

"I heard Leon's wife is quite controlling. Poor guy can't even make a decision without her approval," someone remarked, their tone condescending.

"Excuse me," Leon quickly interjected. "Let me make one thing clear: my wife is not controlling. Decisions in our marriage are made together, as equals."

“And if I hear anyone disrespecting her again, there will be consequences. Understood?" His tone was firm as he addressed his subordinates with a hard gaze.

"Yes sir," the subordinates replied hastily, scrambling to return to their tasks.

This might have been the only instance he'd wield his authority as the top agent, but it was a line he wouldn't allow anyone to cross.

What really makes your relationship click is the mutual respect and understanding you both share, along with your shared drive and ambition. You get that his job can eat up a lot of his time, with weeks and even months away from home, and sure, it gets to you sometimes. But he's pretty good at making it up to you (material gestures and physical affection).

Leon really appreciates how you get his career demands, and he's all for you pursuing your own career path too. He'd rather see you doing your thing than stuck at home while he's away. However, if and when you decide to have children, he might lean towards the idea of you being a stay-at-home mom, though ultimately, he respects it's entirely your decision.

As for that tracker thing, it's not about being controlling; it's more about being protective. With him going on those risky missions, you like having a way to keep tabs on him and make sure he's safe. At first, he wasn't too keen on the idea, but when you explained how it eases your mind, he kinda got it. Plus, it's kinda fun to mess around with it sometimes, right?

“Hey, where'd you sneak off to earlier?" you asked with a mock sternness, tapping your foot as Leon entered the room. "Your little dot disappeared for a while there."

Leon raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about? I've been right here the whole time."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Oh really? Because according to the tracker, you vanished into thin air."

A grin spread across Leon's face as he produced a cup of boba from behind his back, "I may have noticed a certain someone was feeling a bit down, so I thought I'd surprise her with her favourite pick-me-up.”

“Aw, Leon!” you exclaimed, jumping on him and nearly causing him to drop the boba and possibly break his back in the process.

#leon kennedy x reader #death island leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons #death island leon #✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

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buckys-little-belle · 10 months ago

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Im scared to but my first Barbie, but I really want one! Sooooo bad. Can you maybe write Steve and Bucky meeting a she/her reader in the Barbie spot in a store and being nice to her? Maybe buying her a Barbie and some clothes? And they are just nice?

Barbie Aisle Buddies

Stucky x Shy!Little!Reader (She/Her Pronouns Used)

Warnings - The reader is generally a worry wart so she has a bit of 'panic' and worry during this fic, it gets resolved by the end and fluff ensues after her worry.

Notes - I honestly pulled inspiration from a fic I had written a while ago about a shy reader in a toy aisle, so I hope it's okay that I made the ready shy. This is also pretty short! But also so cute!!! Also I know it can be scary going to a store and buying toys but I promise you it's okay! I have bought so many Barbies and Barbie toys like clothes, and I described a Barbie I own in this story! Don't let worry eat you up, go buy the Barbie! Trust me when I tell you it's worth the worry, having fun dolls that I get to play with and dress up is so fun and I don't regret getting them! You only live once bubba, don't let the worry get you down for too long! I hope you get a Barbie soon!!! <3

SFW - Keep all interactions with the post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ .

Y/n had been hyping herself up for a month now. Twenty dollars in her pocket, and a determined state of mind were all she had as she walked up and down the Barbie aisle of her local grocery store. It was a small selection of dolls, yet so overwhelming at the same time.

Some dolls had different jobs, chef, doctor, fashion designer. Others had fancy outfits or animal sidekicks. It was hard to pick just one doll, but seeing as she only had enough money for one doll, she knew she had to pick just one.

"Hello." A man's voice broke through her overthinking, a man stood just a few feet away, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, some worn out sneakers on his feet. He looked familiar, though Y/n couldn't place just where she had seen him before. "I'm Steve." He smiled, turning to look at the same shelf she had her eyes on previously. "It's hard to pick one, isn't it?"

"Um." Y/n panicked, trying to remember the excuse she had made up regarding why she was in this aisle. Did she land on 'getting a toy for a friend's kid' or 'I have a birthday party to attend'?

"Steve!" Another man's voice called out. This time a man dressed all in black, combat boots and gloves included, planted himself a few feet away. "Hi there, Doll." He smiled, Y/n couldn't help but smile back, the man's charm winning her over. "Which one do you have your eye on?" He asked as he scanned the shelves, hands crossed over his chest, looking at the plethora of choices like he too was thinking about getting one.

"Oh, I'm not, I'm just, you know, a, I don't, I." Y/n began stuttering, trying to get out an excuse, any excuse, to make them believe she wasn't buying a Barbie doll for herself.

"Dolls don't have an age, Doll." The man without a name chuckled. "If you're looking for a Barbie to play with I would suggest one that comes with a few items." He began pointing to a few sets she had looked at, but sets that were over her budget.

"I like this one." Y/n quickly grabbed a doll she had her eye on. She was a chef and came with a pan and what looked to be a fried egg. She had a chefs hat and coat, and looked fun enough, but the biggest pull was it was the only doll with accessories that was in her price range.

"She'll need some everyday clothes." Steve squatted down to a lower shelf, rummaging through some small containers for a set of clothes.

"I can't, I just. This is all I can get." Y/n smiled with a hint of self conciseness. Admitting you didn't have a lot of Barbie money to strangers wasn't the end all be all, but at the same time it still felt extremely venerable.

"Well, Doll." The unnamed man with a smile full of charm spoke again. "It's your lucky day then." He pulled the cart Steve must have brought closer to the shelf. "Pick whatever you want."

"What?" Y/n shook her head taking a step back, confused as to what he meant.

Steve was the one to speak up this time. "You don't know who we are, I'm guessing." His smile was softer, more gentle. "I was formally known as Captain America." The truth felt like a weight had been lifted off Y/n's shoulders, her happy to know that she wasn't crazy for thinking he looked familiar.

"And I'm his sidekick, Bucky Barnes, formally known as The Winter Soldier." Mr Unnamed added on.

"Oh." Y/n nodded her head, taking in the two men, even more confused as to why they were wasting their time in a local stores Barbie aisle with her. "Sorry for bothering you."

Y/n was ready to dash with her doll, worried that the super soldiers she just met would grow tired of her quiet demeanor. "Doll." Bucky called out, his voice commanding yet it still had a joking tone to it. "Come back here and pick at least four things."

"Buck." Steve whispered loudly.

"Steve." Bucky said back, his tone condescending. "Doll, please let us but you some dolls. It would make our day." She still hadn't turned around and had half a heart to run, yet for some reason she turned around and took a good look at the shelf.

There really were some sets she'd love to have, like the farmers market stand and a little dog set, and Steve was right, her doll needed everyday clothes. "You won't make fun of me?" She asked, worry surrounding each word.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Steve put his hand over his heart, an action that made her giggle.

"I'm Y/n." She finally gave them her name, a small smile breaking past her worried expression.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/n." Bucky and Steve said at the same time, the three of them laughing.

"Which outfit do you think your doll would look best in?" Steve held out a few options, letting Y/n ponder over them as Bucky tried to convince her to pick the Barbie camper as one of her choices, as if she had a spot for such a big play set.

"I like this one." She pointed to a package that help a blue dress, pick shirt, and jean skirt. The shoes were cute too, and she got excited at the idea of dressing her doll in the outfit.

So there they all stood, Steve and Bucky trying to convince Y/n to get super expensive things, and Y/n trying to figure out how she got so lucky to have two super soldiers worrying over her new doll collection.

#buckys little belle #anon #age regression #age regression fic #little!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers age regression #steve rogers x little reader #steve rogers x little!reader #bucky barnes x reader

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violetrainbow412-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Day 5: acorn

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

This is kind of flangst if you squint, but the idea came to my mind and I thought it would be really cute. One of my favorites, enjoy, and reblog if you liked it!

You and Spencer walked in silence, with only the sound of the orange leaves crunching under your feet. Autumn had undeniably arrived, and you knew perfectly well that this season was a blessing for many children, providing them with leaves on the ground to play with, warm clothes, and tons of candy. Somehow, it was also your favorite time of the year, as it brought back a few pleasant memories you guarded closely in your heart.

“How did he behave over the weekend?”

“Very well, actually,” he replied, happy that you had finally decided to break the silence. In the distance, you could hear the giggles of a child you both made sure to check on from time to time. “We made pancakes, I took him to the aquarium, we drew a lot, and overall, he didn’t throw any tantrums or anything like that. He even asked me to tuck him in.”

“He always wants that,” you said. “Sometimes he makes me read the books you give him.”

“And he asks me to sing him lullabies you taught him.”

You both fell silent again.

It wasn’t often that your ex-husband’s days off aligned with yours, and the truth was that you both only sought to see each other when strictly necessary. Many times, Jason spent weekends with his father, and when Spencer had the chance, he would take him to school and other activities.

As a father, you couldn’t complain about him. He tried his best after the divorce, as if wanting to make up for something, and you both made sure to keep arguments away from Jason’s ears because the last thing you wanted was for your son to suffer because of it.

It had been somewhat complicated explaining the dynamics of your post-divorce life to Jason, as he didn’t understand why his father, whom he loved so much, had to move to a new apartment. Spencer had tried to be as kind as possible when talking to his son, not wanting him to feel, even for a second, the abandonment Spencer himself had felt from his own father. He called him all the time, bought him an endless number of things, and made sure to have him with him whenever work allowed.

Work, work… that damned work.

“That’s just how he is,” you said simply.

A cold breeze filled the air, and you tucked your hands into your coat pockets, just as your husband did. Once upon a time, you might have held hands to deal with the cold, but now that was unthinkable.

“He also told me he already has a costume for Halloween, right?”

“He wants to be Sherlock Holmes. It was between that and Albert Einstein, but he went with Sherlock because he said his job was similar to his daddy’s.”

Spencer let out a chuckle that was stifled in his throat and looked in the direction of the little boy who was hopping around in the leaves, already too dirty from the nature of the park.

“Do you need money to buy the costume? I could ask JJ where they sell some, or…”

“It’s okay, Reid. I’ll probably make it myself or ask my mom,” you murmured, shrugging. “But he wants you to take him trick-or-treating.”

“I’ll try. But you know with cases… it’s unpredictable.”

“Explain it to him, not me,” you muttered seriously.

Honestly, conversations between the two of you were almost always uncomfortable. Sometimes Spencer tried to find a normal or interesting topic for you, but you rarely carried the conversation forward. Other times, you wished you could ask him about things that really mattered—his mental state, his feelings, or simply what was happening in his life—but you had no idea how to go about it.

That’s why you both preferred to talk only about Jason.

“Look, Mommy!” your son suddenly shouted, throwing a bunch of leaves into the air and laughing when they fell on him.

“How nice, baby,” you responded with feigned excitement, somewhat relieved that your son was having fun.

You both stood there watching the little one, and you could feel your ex-husband’s gaze from the corner of your eye. So many years of knowing him, of loving him, had allowed you to detect when he wanted to say something but didn’t dare. Sometimes, you still felt guilty for being able to read him so easily, and you had no doubt he felt the same, especially with that eidetic memory of his helping him.

“Jason talked to me about Christmas the other day,” he began, seemingly gathering the courage to speak. It had to be something important if he had taken the trouble to bring it up. “Has he mentioned anything to you about the presents he’ll ask Santa for?”

“Not yet, but he’s usually happy with whatever he gets. We can ask him later what he wants or tell him to write a letter for something specific, but I think some of the other gifts could be a chemistry set or art supplies; his teacher says he’s shown a lot of interest in both.”

“I see,” he murmured, nodding slightly. But he didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. “He said something interesting to me the other day. I just wanted to know if he had told you about it already.”

“Maybe if you tell me, I can answer,” you said without looking at him, trying to stay calm.

You had a suspicion of what your son had talked about, but you didn’t want to make a mistake. And Spencer felt exactly the same.

There was silence again for a few minutes, which felt like an eternity, and then he spoke:

“He told me this year he doesn’t want to ask Santa for anything because he wants to save his wish for something special,” he began. He paused for a moment and then continued, “I asked him what it was, and he didn’t want to tell me, so I suggested he could write a letter even though it was still early. He did, and after I put him to bed, I went to read it. There was a drawing and some words written in a messy but legible way. It said his only wish was for his mommy and daddy to be together again.”

By the middle of the conversation, you already knew what it was about. By the end, a few tears had welled up in your eyes.

“I know. He tells me that often,” you confessed, feeling a tightness in your chest. “And I never know what to say.”

“Have you thought about remarrying?” he suddenly asked. It was barely a murmur, but enough for you to turn to him in evident surprise. “I mean… with someone else. Or maybe having a boyfriend?”

“Jason takes up most of my time, and work takes up the rest. I don’t think there’s an opportunity to even consider it,” you said seriously. Since the divorce, neither of you had thought about the possibility of Jason having a stepfather or a stepmother. “What about you?”

“Never. I believe marriage is a pact you make only once in life.”

What was he trying to do? Was he criticizing you? Was he hinting that he saw the possibility of living together again?

“Well, that way Jason won’t be confused. At least until he grows up.”

“Don’t you think he needs a father figure?”

“What do you think you are then?”

“A permanent figure,” he clarified. “And a mother figure at the same time. We worry about ourselves, but we never thought about how this would affect him.”

“Of course I thought about it, Spencer. That’s why I asked for the divorce.”

Low blow. And a painful one.

“Listen, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’m not trying to justify myself. But it’s been two years, and I think I’ve changed enough to prove to you that I’m not a bad father.”

“I don’t need proof of that. I know you’re not,” you said firmly. But when you spoke again, your words were harsher. “But I can’t trust that you’ll be a good husband.”

“I was before.”

“Yes, but then you ended up in prison. And you decided your work was worth more than your family.”

“That’s not true,” he exclaimed, clearly offended. “You and Jason have always been my priority, even now. I live only for you, and in return, you abandoned me when I needed you the most.”

“Spencer, stop blaming me. I had to choose between taking care of you or raising my son. Our son. So I sacrificed my marriage to make the best decision for him. We came second.”

“But divorce doesn’t have to be forever,” he insisted, stepping in front of you to make you look at him. “If you want, we don’t even have to sleep in the same bed. I just… I just want us to live together again. For Jason. I think he deserves to have a complete family because I know how hard it is not to have one, and I don’t want him to go through the same thing.”

You were finally talking more than you had in months. But to be honest, you wished it wasn’t happening. He took one of his hands out of his pocket and reached up to touch your cheek. You were freezing, and it became a fervent desire to lean into you and lose himself in your lips.

“Spencer, don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need to think with a clear head. And you’re just clouding my judgment.”

“Why does it have to be a decision you make with a clear head?” he said, sounding hurt. “I’m not a stranger; we once loved each other. I still love you.”

His other hand came up to cup your face, and you placed your hands on his wrists, trying in vain to push him away. You didn’t have the strength, neither physically nor mentally, to do it.

“Spencer, nothing guarantees that getting back together will make us happy.”

“And nothing guarantees that it won’t,” he murmured, pleading. His fingers stroked you gently, and you felt yourself succumbing to temptation.

You were looking into his honey-colored eyes again, and you realized that was one of the things that hadn’t changed despite all the years; they still looked so sweet, so docile toward you. And suddenly, you felt as in love as the first time, and that terrified you. Loving meant the fear of getting hurt again.

You were about to say something when a shout caught your attention, making you think for a second that something had happened to your son. Luckily, it was just him trying to get your attention.

“Come play! Please!” he said politely, with that persuasive little voice he was already learning to use.

“We’re coming, my love.”

The conversation was interrupted by that activity, and although Jason asked why you were crying, you reassured him, blaming the cold in the park. As the minutes passed and you two began to follow your son’s lead, the mood lightened. You even reached a point where you were genuinely having fun, the three of you together, and it was undeniable that your little boy was brimming with happiness.

“A squirrel!” Jason suddenly shouted. He loved animals, so he didn’t hesitate to get closer.

“Careful, honey,” Spencer hurried, always the more fearful of the two of you. “It’s not a good idea to touch squirrels, even if they look cute. They’re wild animals and could bite or scratch you if they get scared. Plus, they can have bugs or diseases.”

“But I want to pet it! Can I, Mommy?”

“When Daddy says no, it’s a no.”

Your son pouted, pretending to be upset, but looking as cute as any 6-year-old. Your ex-husband tried to cheer him up by crouching down to his level.

“Better let’s observe what it’s doing. What do you think it’s looking for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, there. In its little hands.”

“An acorn!” he exclaimed happily. The squirrel was picking some off the ground and putting them in its mouth, filling its cheeks. “Why is it doing that?”

“It’s storing food for the winter. It buries them in a safe place, and then when the snow falls, it looks for them to eat.”

“There are more over there!” your son said, pointing with his little finger. “There are three. Do you think those are its mommy and daddy?”

“Maybe, son.”

“They’re like us, right?” he smiled.

You looked away from them because you didn’t want to meet Spencer’s eyes if he turned, and you only heard him laugh.

“Yes, maybe they are.”

Jason watched the animals for a few more minutes, and then he got distracted by a nearby hot chocolate stand. Spencer bought a cup for each of you, which felt wonderful. During the time you all sat on a bench to drink it, with Jason in the middle of both of you, you could sense the furtive glances Spencer gave you, and unwillingly, you did the same toward him.

Jason played for so long that the sky darkened, and he was completely exhausted. By the time you hugged him, ready to head home, he had already fallen fast asleep. And although his presence was evident in theory, you were once again effectively alone with your ex-husband as you approached the car.

He offered to drive to avoid waking your son, and then he opened the passenger door for you, where you settled in, trying to make Jason as comfortable as possible. Halfway through the drive to your apartment, there was an awkward silence that couldn’t even be avoided with music because Spencer had forgotten to fix the stereo.

You struggled to admit it but, to be honest, you hadn’t had such a bad time that afternoon. You were genuinely happy about the family moment you shared, and proof of that was how you clung to who you would always see as your baby, smiling as you watched him sleep so peacefully.

Spencer didn’t expect you to speak during a red light.

“We can meet up to spend Christmas together as a family. Stay in the same apartment, open presents together, and all that,” you said, not looking at him, trying to focus on anything else to avoid him “And it’s too soon to make such a drastic decision, Spencer, like going back to a practically married life. But we can think about it and decide after the new year.”

Despite your indifference, he knew you were being sincere and not just giving him false hope. And he also knew that he would work twice as hard to win back your trust, forgive your mistakes, and, with some luck, recover your love. You hoped you had the strength to forget what had happened and see Spencer for who he was now, not for who he had been.

“I’m glad you said that. And I agree,” was all he replied.

When you got home, you both made sure to leave your son comfortably asleep in bed, and as an extra favor and a show of commitment, you stayed a long time watching him sleep, as if trying to preserve that childish image forever. You didn’t say anything when Spencer wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and he pretended not to notice that you leaned into him, resting your head lightly against his chest.

All you could think was how you hoped time would be kind to you and allow you to eventually rekindle the love you once had and offer it to the beautiful child lying in front of you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2024 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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